All I can hear are screams. Terrible, awful, blood-curdling screams. They seem to come from within me, around me, everywhere I turn. They cannot be avoided. They're the screams of people both living and dead, and as I sprint through the never-ending shadows in my nightmare, I can see their pale blue faces emerging from the decaying treeline.

No matter how fast I run, they sprint after me, reaching for me as they scream. They're crying, they need to be released, they need help, they want revenge--

I collapse to my feet in the clearing, a sort of sickening calm creeping down my spine. They can catch me now, it's only a matter of time.

That's when I look up and see her, drifting towards me. My eyes are locked on hers, a glassy gray like tendrils of smoke. Her dress seems to be made of the fog, coalescing itself into the fabric. Her long black hair is the same color as the impenetrable night sky above me.

The screams keep amplifying in my ears, and it starts to feel like I'm the one screaming. My throat feels raw. With a trembling hand, I reach up to my neck, and right as I do, the girl drifts to a stop about ten yards away from me.

Eyes locked on mine, wordlessly, she clenches her fist at her side, like she's cracking a walnut. In response, all of the shades and spirits and dead surrounding us are pulverized into mist. The girl takes a hearty breath of the air, tainted with the scent of rot and decay.

And then she looks at me again.

A deafening crack splits through the universe as the girl's eyes turn a blood-red and her face turns a purplish-blue, the color of a corpse. She opens her black maw of a mouth and when she screams, so do I, and the night sky turns to the same garnet shade as her eyes.

I shoot awake in my bed, a scream dying in my throat as I do. Everything seems fuzzy, like I've woken up with a migraine that I don't remember having. I look around wildly, expecting to see the girl and the ghosts and the blood-red forest, but all of it is gone. I'm in my room. Judging from the amount of light filtering in through the windows, it's just about dawn.

The realization takes a bit of the weight off of my chest, going down from that of the Empire State Building to maybe two elephants stacked on top of one another. I rest my arms across the tops of my knees, touching my forehead to my arms. It was just a dream. A scary, terrifying, realistic dream.

Once I've gotten my heart rate and breathing under control, I push my covers off of me and get to my feet. I feel like I'm burning up. Like my blankets were suffocating me. Despite having the windows shut, a chill permeates across the house and freezes my feet as I get out of bed. It stings, but it's also somewhat pleasant and eventually, I ignore it.

I cross over to the window and throw open my curtains, jolting with surprise to find Willow's Crest under a somber layer of fog.

It's not unusual by any means. This is the Northeast, in a particularly wooded area a ways from the sea. We get fog all the time, no matter the time of year. But there's something about how it moves, how it looks that reminds me too much of how the fog in my dream moved. How the shades turned to mist. How that girl breathed it in like fresh air.

I rock back and forth on my feet for a moment, entranced in concerned thought. Cars idly drive through the fog, cleaving it down the middle until it coalesces back together into one giant body. A few neighborhood kids walk their bikes down. Life doesn't stop in Willow's Crest because of some fog, so why should I?

I let go of the curtains, heading back to my bed. My phone vibrates as I do, and I grab it to find a text from Nick:

Pick u up at 9?

Slowly, like coming back to consciousness, I remember what he means. Every year, Nick, Jase, and I go out for my birthday investigation. According to Nick and Jase, it's what the web-series audience waits for each year because we typically hit up the most haunted places in Rhode Island, and sometimes we manage to head out of state to Massachusetts or Connecticut for the special. Last year, we visited Chestnut Hill Cemetery and the Harrisville House, and the year before that, we tagged along with the Vales for a trip into Massachusetts to visit the Lizzy Borden House.

The only catch is that I never know where we're going. Nick and Jase get to pick, and I'm only allowed to know if it's more than a two hours' drive. And since I haven't heard a word, I can only guess that this year's birthday installment of Paranormal Pals is somewhere in town. Which I'm fine with. There's plenty of haunted places and urban legends in Willow's Crest that we have yet to talk about on the show.

I glance at the time on my phone: 8:42 AM. Nick and Jase'll be here in under twenty minutes.

That's enough time to get my act together, so that's what I do. I take a quick shower since I still feel sweaty from my nightmares, tug on a knit sweater over some jeans and combat boots, and dab on some makeup while my hair settles from its hasty blow-drying. Once I'm finished, I tug on my coat and reach for my phone again to check on the time, a feeling of triumph blowing through me once I see that it's 2:15 PM.

My eyes snap wide with realization and I freeze, mid-motion to tuck my phone into my coat pocket. I whip it back out, reading the home screen: 2:15 PM on June 24th.

My migraine flares as I look towards the window, and sure enough, the fog is gone. Sunlight streams in through my window. The trees are covered in green foliage. Happy white clouds stream across an azure sky.

What the hell?

My vision goes fuzzy and black, and when I blink it away, I've fallen to the ground. Hissing at the numb impact beginning its course down my side, I push myself upright, fumbling for my phone with trembling fingers. I have to be dreaming, that's it. I'm still dreaming. This is just a continuation of that weird-ass nightmare.

When I read the display again, my heart skips a beat.

9:02 AM on September 22nd.

I nearly give myself whiplash as I look back out the window, where beyond the glass panes, the scenery has shifted once again. This time, everything is back to normal. Beneath a pearly gray sky, fog stretches through the streets. The trees are dying, and whatever chill emanating outside has crept into my soul.

My phone hums as Nick calls me, startling me. I take a shaky breath before accepting the call. "Hello?"

"Hey, you ready? Jase and I just got here," Nick says.

Fighting the tremors ripping across my body, I cross over to my bedroom window. Sure enough, pulled onto the curb are Nick and Jase.

"I'll be right down," I say, my throat feeling tight.

I hang up the call, taking a deep breath. It was just a freaky dream, or a weird fear-triggered hallucination or something like that. I was frantic and scared and in a rush, and that translated into my real life for a second. But now it's gone. Whatever that was is gone and everything is back to normal.

But even as I gather my stuff and leave my bedroom door, I still can't shake the feeling that everything cannot be further from normal, for reasons that I cannot understand.

--

After a relatively short drive punctuated by radio channel flipping, consultations of research, and irrelevant stories courtesy of one Dominic Williams, we pull up to the grand drive of the Loretta Mansion and my stomach takes a nosedive. I'm frozen until Nick parks, both he and Jase twisting around in their seats to look at me in the backseat.

"What?" I manage, my throat still feeling like it's on the verge of closing up. My attention drifts to the Mansion just beyond their faces before snapping back to Nick and Jase.

Nick furrows his dark eyebrows at me. "You're off today, Stel."

"No, I'm not," I say, recoiling defensively.

"Yes, you are," Jase confirms. "You've hardly said a word since we picked you up."

I pause, considering my options. As it appears, I only have two: tell Jase and Nick what happened, or come up with some excuse, and call me crazy, but I decide to go with the latter.

"Didn't have much to say," I say casually with a shrug. We get out of the car, but the boys' attention is still on me, so I continue. "I'm just feeling a little sick. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

Nick and Jase share a look which I've dubbed the "Something's Wrong With Stella" look, featured during moments such as these when they think I'm up to something or hiding something from them. All I can do to lead them off my scent is try and act as normal as possible, so I turn my attention to the Loretta Mansion, emerging from the morning fog like the haunted house that it is.

"Well?" I ask, spinning around to face Nick and Jase, who are gathering the equipment. "What're we waiting for? An invitation?"

And before they can say anything, I march straight up the drive as if I'm meeting the object of my nightmares full on. Nick and Jase hurry behind me, equipment and all, as we head up to the gate. Nick flashes some credentials and the wrought-iron gates widen. We continue up the remainder of the path and soon, we're into the foyer of the infamous Loretta Mansion.

The second my boot-clad foot hits the polished marble of the foyer floor, I'm met with chills. An impenetrable, unshakable cold that creeps up throughout my entire body, sending ripples and tremors into the pit of my soul. I'm suddenly acutely aware of each detail surrounding me, from the crown molding of the room to the designs along the banisters of the twin staircases before us. The same twin staircases I'd seen in my dream the other night, only then, they'd been covered with buckets of blood along with everything else in the foyer.

I shake myself out of my momentary trance, tuning back into the conversation Nick is having with the representative of the Mansion. They exchange some words, the man smiles, and then heads off into a nearby office.

Nick turns around, camera looped around his neck. "Ready?"

No. "Yes."

And with that, we get started. It's a familiar sort of routine, one whose simplicity helps shake the clutches of uncertainty from where its latched onto my spinal cord since this morning. Nick, Geek Squad extraordinaire, sets up the camera and the little microphones hooked up to mine and Jase's coats. Jase, armed with the immense amount of research he's done, meets me before the camera. And I just start talking once Nick gives me the thumbs-up.

"A glittering mansion on the crest of a beautiful town. An illustrious history predating American independence. A gruesome series of murders. Welcome to this month's episode of Paranormal Pals, a show in which I, Stella Sawyer, and my two pals, Jase Vale and Nick Williams, investigate paranormal activity in some of the Northeast's most haunted places. This month, to celebrate my 18th birthday and maintain our tradition, we investigate the infamous Loretta Mansion, former home to the Loretta family and eternal home of those murdered within its grand walls."

Trailed by Nick, Jase and I begin our spiel. As Jase sets the stage with the history of the house itself, as well as the owners for which it received its name, I lose myself in the architecture and what could be hidden behind it. The mansion is beautiful, there's no doubting that, but it's also home to so much darkness, so much strife. Even with the white and the gold, the marble and the glass, it's easily as haunted as any decrepit old shack in a horror movie, if not more so.

The thought adds to the chills that I still can't seem to shake. It almost feels like they're getting worse.

"It wasn't until the mid-1800s when the Loretta Mansion became associated with gruesome deaths. In the 1850s, all seven members of the wealthy Loretta family were found brutally murdered. Eyewitness accounts of the bodies describe mutilation, multiple lacerations to the chest and throat, blunt-force trauma, and in some cases, the severing of limbs. According to old tales, the Mansion at the time of the discovery of the bodies was covered in blood..." I say, trailing off as we start up one of the twin staircases.

Seven people murdered in the very house I was standing in. That's not even all of the terrible things that have happened here. This sort of thing has never bothered me before. They're just facts. Why are they bothering me now?

Jase nudges me, bringing me back to reality. I suck in a breath, continuing my spiel as we continue down the hall. We pass rooms and rooms, the furniture of the time exactly as it had been.

"...In the early twentieth century, the Loretta Mansion also became the place where infamous Northeastern serial killer, the Crest Killer, dumped his bodies. Some believe the Crest Killer was an angry descendent of the Loretta family, hence why he chose the Mansion as the site for his murders. Other people believe the Killer was never found..."

The Crest Killer slaughtered five people over the course of two weeks, all of them discovered in the Loretta Mansion. Twelve people. Twelve people's souls.

Cold. It's getting colder. I huff a breath, half-expecting to see it condense into ice before my eyes.

That's when I hear the wailing.

I spin around, nearly toppling Nick and his camera over.

"Do you hear that?" I ask, frantic.

I don't wait for Nick and Jase to respond. I heard that, I know I heard that. Someone's wailing, crying. A woman? A young girl, maybe?

Before I know what I'm doing, I take off down the upstairs hallway, following the sound of the wailing. It gets louder and softer, and I have to retrace my steps, but soon I end up in what looks like some kind of sun room. A wall of windows filters in the gray sunlight of the foggy morning, overlooking the labyrinthine sunken garden and hedge maze of the south grounds. Lining the edge of the grounds like an army waiting to strike is the forest preserve, the connecting piece to virtually all of Willow's Crest and its haunted areas.

And standing right in the center of the room is a woman, her thin gray dress covered with rust red stains. She's sobbing at the top of her lungs, and then stops after a few seconds, as if realizing she's not alone.

That's when she looks up, gasps, and then disappears into thin air.

My eyes widen, my heart pounding so loud that it feels like it's in my head. Nick and Jase surge into the room right then, and I turn around to face them.

"I-I-I saw a ghost! A full bodied apparition!" I stammer. This room is so cold, it's practically freezing. My teeth start chattering.

Nick makes a face. I wait for him to refute my claims but instead, his eyes float to the bay of windows along the back wall. His face wrinkles into one of confusion. "What the...?"

I follow Nick's line of sight--if not simultaneously looking around for the weeping woman--and see that along the back road, separating the Loretta's south lawn from the forest, is a team of emergency vehicles. The sirens are loud enough to hear from where we're standing. The lights catch in the fog, distorting it eerily.

I swallow, looking back to Nick and Jase. "I followed the wailing and I found a woman standing here crying, and then she just disappeared!"

Jase watches me warily. I can tell that he's curious, but all things considered, he doesn't believe me.

The realization hits me like a freight train. He doesn't believe me.

"Stella," Jase says cautiously, like he's trying to talk to a spooked horse. "The wailing you heard was probably the sirens."

It's true, they're loud, but that wasn't what I heard. I shake my head. "No, Jase, you don't understand--"

"Stel, I do," he says, his pale eyes beseeching, "but Nick and I were right there and we didn't hear it. But we do hear the sirens."

I look to Nick, but he's removed himself from the conversation. He's standing at the windows, phone pressed to his ear. I can catch snippets from the conversation; he's calling his dad, which makes sense, since Mr. Williams is a police officer for WCPD.

I turn back to Jase, who's watching me with concern. "Are you sure you're okay, Stel?"

"I'm fine," I snap, and then heave a big sigh. "I'm fine."

But I'm not. I know what I saw. This wouldn't be the first time I've heard or seen something, but it does make it the first time I've heard and seen something to this scale. Why don't they believe me?

Nick chooses that moment to gravitate back to Jase and I, his face grim. "I just got off the phone with my dad."

"And?" Jase and I say in unison.

Nick drags a hand through his unruly dark hair. "They found two bodies in the forest. It's Bailey and Clay."