“Yazmin!” Noora called, striding over to my side of the room, her eyes wide and excited as she slapped grandma's diary open on my laps. “Read this part,” she pointed to a paragraph written in elegant curlicues.
I sighed, partly because we had been searching through the diary for a means to access her mansion and I was mentally exhausted. And because most of her writing were lyrical and in riddles.
When the house wakes
Hide in the wardrobe
Do not let it see you.
I rolled my eyes and rubbed my temples while Noora grinned, waiting for my response. “What does that even mean?” I scanned her face, frowning. She shrugged, her excitement fading as we peered over the page again.
“We should have sold that house years ago,” I said, biting my nails.
Noora gently pulled my hand away from my mouth. “You know we can't. Not until we do as her will states.”
I groaned, rubbed my face and stood up. “Let's go to the house.” My sister nodded and started to dress.
The mansion was old, built in late 1770s. It stood at the edge of the marsh, ivy crawling on the stone walls. Moonlight gleamed over the broken windows, revealing shadows within the house. Noora shivered, her arms wrapped around herself. “Did we have to come at night?”
I looked over my shoulder at her. She was the elder but somehow always remained behind me since childhood. Our mother believed grandma's psychic gifts were spilt between the two us. I possessed the gift of foresight while Noora could speak to the dead, an ability she struggled with because of her fear of the dark.
Our flashlights illuminating the way, we pushed the front door open with surprising ease. The air smelled of mildew and ….grandma. Noora started mumbling to herself. “Yazmin…she's here but she's not happy.”
“Why? What did we do?” I asked, pointing the flashlight around the dark entrance way clouded with dust and spider webs. As we crossed the grand hall, it felt like the eyes of our ancestors from the portraits lined on the wall followed us, seeming displeased.
“We should have been here earlier,” Noora whispered, her voice barely audible as she gripped my forearm. Her hand was cold and clammy, just like mine.
“Is it too late?” I whispered back as we crept upstairs to grandma's room at the end of the corridor. My sister shook her head and I nodded, a little relieved.
The sight of an enormous walnut wardrobe carved with twisting vines sat against the far wall in grandma's room. As we approached it, a scratching sound across the floor made Noora shriek, hanging onto my arm tightly.
“Probably rats,” I said pointing the flashlight to the floor but there was nothing. Then heavy footsteps, more like deep thuds, carried across the stairs towards the room.
“Quick,” I whispered, pushing Noora towards the wardrobe. “Inside. Now!”
I hope you enjoyed reading this short piece. It's inspired by the Freewrite #dailyprompt phrase "hide in the wardrobe".
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