The midnight dare - by Mages Gray

In the small town of Hollow Creek, where everyone knew everyone and secrets were hard to keep, there was one place that no one talked about after sunset: the abandoned Wexley Manor. Perched on the edge of the woods, the manor had been empty for decades, ever since old Lady Wexley vanished one Halloween night. Rumor had it she dabbled in witchcraft, that she’d made a deal with something dark—and the manor had been cursed ever since. Lights flickered in the windows with no power. Strange noises echoed from its rotting halls. And anyone who entered never lasted the night. Which, of course, made it the perfect place for a dare. Four friends—Max, Juno, Liam, and Tasha—had just finished binge-watching a horror movie marathon and were feeling invincible. Max, the ringleader with more bravado than sense, grinned and tossed a flashlight to Liam. “I dare you all to spend one hour inside Wexley Manor.” Tasha groaned. “Max, seriously? That place is falling apart. Also, cursed. Have you forgotten the screaming cat video from last year?” “That was fake,” Max replied. “Someone edited in the screams.” “I dunno,” Juno said, biting her lip. “Didn’t that cat disappear afterward?” Max waved them off. “Come on, it’s one hour. We stick together, record it, and we’re legends. Unless...you’re scared?” That did it. No one wanted to be the coward. They packed flashlights, extra batteries, and Juno brought a GoPro “for posterity.” By 11:30 PM, they were standing in front of the towering manor. It loomed like a crooked skeleton, its windows dark like hollow eyes. The wind whispered through the trees, carrying the faint scent of damp wood and something...burnt. “Okay,” Liam said, trying to sound brave, “let’s get this over with.” Inside, the air was thick and cold. Their footsteps echoed on warped floorboards. Dust clung to the walls like cobwebs, and actual cobwebs dangled from the ceiling. Juno started the GoPro. “Team Idiot Squad has entered Wexley Manor,” she whispered dramatically. “Time of death: probably soon.” They explored room by room, their flashlights slicing through the dark. Most rooms were empty, but some still had furniture—moldy chairs, shattered mirrors, books that crumbled when touched. In the main hallway, Tasha paused. “Guys...do you hear that?” They all froze. A faint tick...tick...tick... echoed down the hall. It sounded like a clock, but there were no clocks in the house. Then, suddenly—BONG! A deafening chime rang out, and the front door slammed shut behind them. Their flashlights flickered. “That’s not creepy at all,” Liam muttered. “Okay, this is just some old wiring messing with us,” Max said. “Let’s find the parlor or something and sit tight until the hour’s up.” They found a room with half a couch and what might’ve once been a fireplace. They huddled there, nerves fraying. Juno pointed the camera toward the hallway, “in case anything moves.” That’s when they noticed it. A shadow at the end of the hall. It didn’t belong to any of them. It was tall, hunched, and still. “I-is that someone?” Tasha whispered. “No one’s there,” Max said, standing up. “It’s just a coat rack or something.” The shadow moved. “Nope. Nope. Nope!” Liam stood up too, but before they could run, the lights went out completely. Pitch black. Then the whispering started. Low and slithery, like wind through leaves, but wrong. “Stay...play...stay...play...” Something brushed past Juno. She screamed, and the flashlight snapped back on. The shadow was gone. But a new door had appeared. In the wall where there had been none before, a narrow wooden door now stood slightly ajar, a flickering candle visible beyond. “Where...did that come from?” Tasha breathed. “Okay, I’m officially done,” Liam said. “We find a window, we climb out, we go home.” But Max, eyes wide, stepped toward the door. “Wait, don’t—!” Juno tried to stop him, but Max opened it. Inside was a staircase, leading down into darkness. “Guys, we have to go down,” Max said, his voice strangely flat. “Like heck we do,” Tasha replied. But Max was already descending. The others exchanged glances, then reluctantly followed. The basement smelled like rot and metal. As they reached the bottom, candles lit themselves along the walls, revealing symbols etched into the stone floor—circles, eyes, and something that looked like teeth. And in the center of the room was an old grandfather clock. It ticked. BONG. It struck midnight. The walls shimmered. Suddenly, they were no longer in a basement. They were in a room full of mirrors, stretching in all directions. But these weren’t normal reflections. In the mirrors, they were alone. Each mirror showed them separated, wandering the manor, calling out for help. Then the mirrors shattered. Max was gone. “MAX?!” they yelled, but there was only silence. A laugh echoed through the space—high, feminine, and deeply wrong. “Welcome to the manor,” the voice said. “Time is mine here.” The walls shifted again. Now they were in the attic. Max stood in the corner, facing the wall. “Max?” Juno whispered. He turned slowly. His eyes were clocks. Ticking. Spinning. Wrong. “Time’s up,” he said in a voice that was not his. The clock in the attic struck once. BONG. Everything went white. --- They woke up on the lawn at dawn. Disoriented, dusty, and terrified. Max lay beside them, unconscious but breathing. His eyes were normal again. None of them ever spoke of what happened. The footage from the GoPro was corrupted. The only audio that remained was the ticking of a clock...and one word whispered over and over: “Stay.” The manor still stands. And every Halloween, someone dares to go inside. They never do for long. Because Wexley Manor doesn’t like visitors. It likes residents.

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