Young Writers Society

"Monica! What the heck are you doing in my car?" Finnley screamed, though he kept his eyes on the road. Whatever was going on here, he wouldn't let them all die in a car accident just because he got panicked.

"I just wanted to warn you. I don't think you should go find your uncle right now, Mia," Monica said softly, but by no means timidly.

Mia, who had been sitting calmly this whole time, twisted in the passenger seat to face Monica. "You're the one who told Finnley that Sylvie and I had a history," she said flatly. It wasn't a question. Monica merely nodded. "You seem to know a lot of things you shouldn't. How'd you know about my uncle? We haven't told anyone."

Monica shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable with Mia turned around and Finnley glancing at her in the rearview mirror. "Look," she said, splaying her hands. It looked more like she was bracing herself than a comforting gesture. "Sometimes... sometimes I just know things, okay? It's like intuition, I can sense that something is coming. Somehow. Like this evening. I was walking to the dance, and happened to pass by your house, when I got the feeling that you were going to do something. I- I hid in the car while you were inside. And you yourself mentioned where you were going, your uncle's, just a bit ago," Monica added.

Finnley had to admit her story was sound. It was a bit of a crazy move, acting on instinct, and he found himself respecting her for it.

"You aren't dressed for a dance," Mia replied, wrinkling her nose at Monica's t-shirt. But when Finnley looked back in the mirror, she was actually wearing a simple dress, with the top cut very much like a t-shirt, just nicer. He must've been imagining things.

"Sorry if I'm not as decadent as you when I go to a dance, Mia," Monica said with a little sarcastic smile. "But then, none of us are going to a dance, are we?"

Mia turned in her seat so she faced forward again, grinning. "I like her," she told Finnley. "Okay, Monica. There's no way we're backing out now, sorry to say. But you can come with us if you want."

Monica considered for a moment. "I'd rather you not go at all..." she began, then shook her head. "Deal."

Mia reached into the backseat and the two girls shook hands. "It's on."

Finnley, on the other hand, was miffed. "You two just- like that- she's coming with us?"

Mia sighed dramatically. "Well we're in too far to turn around now, aren't we? Besides, having another set of eyes and an open mind might be helpful."

"Not to offend you, Monica, but we don't really know you at all. I mean, I really appreciated your advice the other day, and thank you so so much for that, but we just talked a little and you don't even know our goal-"

"I'm passionate about cheese," Monica smiled as she cut him off, putting a hand on his shoulder. "Now keep driving!"

"R-right," Finnley muttered, refocusing on the task at hand. He tried to ignore the fact that his cheeks felt a little warm. He flicked the headlights on as the late September evening got darker.

Mia was squinting. "I think she's trustworthy," she mused, and Finnley trusted her judgement. She had a good gut feeling most of the time- maybe that's what Monica had too. "Monica, we're looking into some supernatural occurrences in the forest," Mia began, and Finnley could've sworn that her face went pale upon hearing those words. Mia didn't seem to notice.

As the Internet had predicted, it took an hour and a half, skirting the northern and western edges of the forest, to get to Uncle Fred's home. Mia and Monica hit it off immediately, and Finnley marveled that a friendship could be forged so fast, though he supposed that's how it happened with everyone Mia met. He naturally wanted to be suspicious of Monica, but her smile had a disarming effect, and besides, there was something... something earnest and honest about her that made him trust her as well.

Mia's uncle's house was on the edge of the woods. It was technically a part of a neighborhood, though it was a loose term for a scattered community. His house was small and built like a log cabin, looming ominously in the dark, but the light streaming from the window was inviting.

"I don't like this," Monica murmured, pulling her coat tight around herself- since when did she have a jacket with her? She must've put it on after she'd gotten out of the car. "I told you, we shouldn't be here," she warned, raising her voice a touch. "There's something not right." Finnley couldn't feel it though, and Mia marched right for the front door.

When Mia knocked on the door, she truly knocked. In her fancy dress and heels, probably already sinking into the pine needle laden soil, she banged on the door with everything she had. "Uncle Fred!" she called, and Finnley and Monica cringed- Finnley from the loudness, and Monica from something else.

After a moment of silence, a voice rose up from the depths of the house: "Who is it?"

For the first time, Mia looked uncertain. She glanced back at Finnley, who drew in closer for support, unintentionally drawing Monica with him. "It's Mia, your niece?" From her facial expression, Mia hadn't meant it to come out as a question.

Again, there was a pause. A slight shuffling sound. The voice was closer when it came again. "Mia?" the voice was younger than Finnley had anticipated, hoarse and incredibly human. It had some certain warmth to it, something living.

"That's right," Mia said, and her voice was pitched higher than it normally was.

"You can't come in," the voice was weary, but there was steel in it. There would be no yielding on this point. Mia saw it too and made a show of stomping away.

"Goodbye, Uncle!" she called loftily. There was a shadow at the front window for a moment before it disappeared. Then, the three of them crept around of the side of the house. They did so nearly in unison, not needing to be told. As luck would have it, there was a side door.

The hair on the back of Finnley's neck began to rise, and he fought the urge to turn away. Monica shivered beside him. "Mia, you really shouldn't-"

But Mia was already opening the door, and the darkness was already rushing out through the cracks.