The Invisible Girl in Room Thirteen by Stephen Simpson

“What if there isn’t even a ghost and the school board is just superstitious about the number thirteen?” I asked.

Rachel shrugged me off. “So, are you scared?”

“I wasn’t when I accepted the dare, but now the two of you are talking about all these supernatural things and it’s freaking me out.”

Since I had accepted the challenge, I had been dreading the night of February the thirteenth.

Every time I walked past the fearsome door, I felt shivers scurry down my back. I could not avoid the door and had to walk by it several times a day by no choice of my own.

The boarding house was a two-storey building in the shape of a capital I. I lived on the first floor, five doors away from door number thirteen. Room number thirteen was the last room next to the large staircase which connected all the floors, so if I wanted to go anywhere I had to walk past that door which always felt like a black hole waiting to suck me into its depths if I lingered too long.

Rachel pulled a key from her pocket. “It’s time,” she announced and inched past me.

It was too late to wonder but I had to know. “How come you have a key?”

“I’ve had this key for a while,” she said with a shrug.

“But, why?”

Sinéad nudged me with her elbow and whispered, “Rachel has issues.”

Rachel looked over her shoulder and gave Sinéad an annoyed look.

Sinéad winked. “Just kidding.” She faced me and mouthed, “She really does.”

Rachel sighed. “I’m just interested in all things paranormal, so one day I’d like to come here myself.”

I said, hopeful, “You can take my place. Do the dare instead.”

“I’m not ready yet,” she said.

I felt insulted. She was not ready, but I was being forced to complete a dare just to prove I am worthy of being here at this boarding school, a place I did not even want to be in the first place.

She pushed the key into the lock.

I really did not want to do this.

Sinéad stood behind me and I felt a little claustrophobic standing between the two of them.

The only thought running repeatedly through my mind as I heard the key turn in the lock, was I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this.

The door swung open on stiff hinges which had not moved for a long time and made a soft moaning sound.

A gust ruffled the bangs from my forehead. The air smelled stale and musty, undisturbed for ages. I wondered where the sudden blast of wind had come from.

Sinéad shrieked softly and Rachel turned around to face her as she stepped aside. “Shh, do you want to wake the dead?”

They both giggled as if it was funny.

I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to do this. The words did not leave my lips.

Slowly I shuffled into the room, while they stayed on the other side of the threshold, being careful not to let their feet touch the boundary.

My breath frosted out of my mouth, just by stepping into the room and goose bumps erupted on my bare arms. The room was really cold, like walking out of a warm house on a cold winters’ day. I shivered as I tried to fold my arms across my chest whilst still holding on to the Ouija board.

The light from the corridor shined into the room and only fell on the standard single bed, bedside table, chest of drawers and study desk. I could see the faded, daisy-printed curtains like the ones decorating my room hanging in front of the window. In the dim light, the paint on the walls was the identical shade of dark with age eggshell and the tiles on the floor were the same green as outside in the corridor.

The light did not reach the corners of the small, rectangular room and where the shadows remained it was dark, devoid of any colour and gloomy. It was not dark enough so someone or something could hide in them, but it still made me feel fearful. The shadows moved like they were breathing, and I quickly lifted my hand to rub my eyes.

Even though everything looked the same, it was not. The room had a different feel. It felt empty, cold and lonely.