The maroon clock mounted on the wall ticked tirelessly as if it were mocking me. I sat at the cashier, hand in cheek, waiting for any human being to walk through the door. I knew the probability of that happening was slim to none, though. It wasn’t like our tiny antique store was appealing to most. I heard the whispers. According to gossip, Artisan Antiques was cursed. Haunted, if you will. Most people wouldn’t dare to step inside here, especially on Halloween.

I should’ve been hanging out with Alexa, watching reruns of old horror movies, and scuffing down every single candy bar imaginable. But my grandma, Freya, is superstitious. No, scratch that, she’s completely irrational. She believes in ghosts and magic and everything else most people stopped believing in during childhood. Most of the time, her delusions are manageable, but tonight’s different. According to her, Halloween is the most dangerous night of the year. The spirits are stronger. “Never trust the lost souls,” she always warned. I think it’s nonsense, but she refuses to come to work, burning sage in every room in the house, and most importantly, leaving me to run the shop.  

I looked at the old clock on the wall and saw that the time read 10:42 p.m. It was getting late. Fighting the urge to yawn, I took one final look around the shop. Every trinket and gadget seemed to be in place. The array of aged furniture and dated jewelry filled the dusty room. Gilded clocks with intricate designs lined the magenta walls. Like always, everything was untouched. Backpack in hand, I began to walk to the door when I heard a distant thump from afar. Strange. I must’ve been more tired than I thought. Rubbing my eyes, I continued to walk and walk and walk and-

Thump

There it was again. This time, a little closer. I took a deep breath before I could let any illogical thoughts flood my brain. I was alright. There were probably trick-or-treaters outside that got a little too rowdy. That’s all. 

I finally made it to the door and began to turn the knob. It didn’t budge. Ignoring the growing nerves in my stomach, I turned the knob again with more force this time. Again, the door still wouldn’t open. I tried again and again until I realized there was no point. For some reason, I was stuck in the store.

I quickly called my grandmother, my fingers incessantly shaking. No answer. I tried her again, feeling my legs starting to wobble. Straight to voicemail. 

“Nova,” a mysterious voice hushed.

I froze at the sound of my name.

“Nova,” the voice whispered again.

 I was dreaming. I must be. There was no way any of this was happening. 

I was contemplating smashing the glass door and forcing my way out when I heard faint knocks from under my feet. At this point, the logical thoughts in my brain were beginning to fade. There was someone down there. During normal circumstances, I would never even think about walking down to the basement. I may not believe in ghosts, but I do know when a place is simply creepy.

Things were somehow different now. I felt this strange attraction towards the basement, almost as if I were being pulled there. Without consulting my brain, my feet began to trek downstairs. With each step, I grew more and more curious. Somehow the creaking of the stairs didn’t bother me. I didn’t even notice the cold air that began to numb my fingertips and raise the hairs on my arms. All I wanted was to reach the basement. 

“Help us, Nova,” they called, even louder this time.

I  found myself finally inside the basement after what seemed like hours. The area was somehow scarier than when I last saw it. The buildup of dust, cobwebs, and dirt only contributed to the room's frightfulness. I didn’t have much time to dwell over the condition of the basement for too long, however, as I felt knocking from underneath once again. 

Impossible

This was the lowest level of the shop. There was nothing beneath me. 

Knock

Knock

  Knock

Or so I thought. 

Mystical air hugged my body, as I shivered in fear. Despite myself, I ventured further into the dark, looking for something that explained the mysterious knocks. Then, like clockwork, I found it. A door. No, it was a hatch. With a violent hue surrounding it, the hatch seemed to glisten when I approached it, almost as if it were calling me. 

Hesitantly, I started to open the hatch, my fingers shaking as I forced it open. To my surprise, there was nothing but a dark, bottomless pit that awaited me. 

“Jump,” one of the voices called.

I didn’t have a death wish. I wasn’t stupid. But for some reason, I couldn’t say no. I couldn’t close the hatch. I had to see who was calling me. Or better yet, what. 

Closing my eyes, I held my breath and said a little prayer. God, please don’t let me die. 

Thump

I did it. I made it. I didn’t die. Instead, I landed feet first onto a cold, hard floor. 

I slowly stood up and brushed the dust off of my high-waisted jeans. Squinting through the darkness, I tried my hardest to see where I was. But I couldn’t see anything. All I could do was hear. Hear them. Hear the whispers. They were closer than ever. Calling and drawing me towards them.

“Help us, Nova!”

“Come save us!”

Then, I saw it. At the end of the passageway, there was light. A bright, luminous slimmer of hope in this gloomy abyss. I couldn’t stop my feet from moving towards it. I was being pulled there somehow. I had lost all control. Nothing could stop me.

“Help us!”

“Nova, we need you!”

I could feel their whispers in my ears.

I continued to walk and walk and walk and-

Whoosh

My body was suddenly yanked by icy hands. I couldn’t feel or see anything. Nothing made sense. I wanted to yell, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything. I felt my body go numb as a deep chill passed through me. 

The spirits.

They had gotten me.

“Thank you, Nova,” was the last thing I heard before the world went blank.

Never trust the lost souls.