The Chalkboard Plan

When I was twelve, I thought everything was stupid—especially my little brother’s obsession with ghosts. My name is Cora, and my brother, Eli, was nine then, with a head full of spooky stories and a heart that believed every one of them. We lived in an old Victorian house that had a tragic history: a widow had hanged herself in the attic, and a heartbroken soldier had shot himself in the study. Eli was convinced their restless spirits roamed our halls. He and his friends would hold séances in the basement and leave out bowls of milk for ‘the hungry ones,’ as they called them.

My sister, Lily, who was six, believed every word Eli said. Her eyes would go wide when he told her about the lady in white who brushed her hair at midnight. On rainy Saturdays, when our parents were out and I was left in charge, Eli and Lily would transform the kitchen into their ghost-hunting headquarters. They’d draw elaborate maps of the house on the chalkboard that hung by the pantry, marking X’s where they’d heard creaks and circles where the temperature dropped.

I thought they were beyond weird. I was too old for that nonsense. I spent those afternoons on the couch, watching old horror movies on the VCR, rolling my eyes when Eli would tiptoe past me with a makeshift EMF detector made of a coat hanger and a compass. Lily would follow him, clutching a flashlight and a bag of salt ‘for protection.’

It was a stormy Saturday in October. The rain hammered the windows, and the wind howled like something desperate. Dad was at a poker game, Mom was at a baby shower for her friend, and I was stuck babysitting with a stack of homework I had no intention of doing. I was halfway through a movie about a haunted doll when Eli and Lily burst into the living room, their faces flushed with excitement.

‘Cora! Cora! We need you!’ Lily squealed, hopping from foot to foot.

I paused the movie and sighed. ‘What now?’

‘We’ve got a plan,’ Eli said, brandishing a piece of chalk like a weapon. ‘There’s a spirit in the attic. We’re going to make contact.’

‘Sure you are,’ I said, turning back to the TV. ‘Just don’t wake me up with your stupid ghost games.’

‘But Cora, this is real! We’ve been seeing things!’ Eli insisted. Lily nodded vigorously, her pigtails bouncing.

I refused to engage. They’d been ‘seeing things’ for months, and I’d dismissed every story as a product of their overactive imaginations. Eli huffed and dragged Lily back to the kitchen, where they began scribbling on the chalkboard again. I could hear them murmuring, plotting their grand adventure.

Around four o’clock, the power flickered. The TV went black, and the house plunged into a deep, unnatural silence. The storm outside seemed to swallow all sound. I fumbled for the flashlight in the drawer and found it. When I turned it on, the beam cut through the dark, and I saw Eli and Lily standing in the hallway, their faces pale.

‘Cora, the lights went out,’ Lily whispered.

‘It’s just the storm,’ I said, but something felt off. The air in the house had changed—it was heavier, colder. I walked to the kitchen, and the chalkboard caught my eye. Eli had drawn a pentagram in the center, surrounded by strange symbols and the words ‘WE SUMMON THEE.’

‘Did you really do this?’ I asked, pointing at the board.

Eli nodded, looking sheepish. ‘We were just playing—’

‘I TOLD YOU TO STOP THIS!’ I shouted, slamming my hand on the counter. ‘There are no ghosts! This is all stupid!’

Lily started to cry. Eli looked hurt. I felt a pang of guilt, but I was fed up with their nonsense. I told them to go to their rooms until the power came back, and they trudged up the stairs, Eli whispering apologies to Lily.

Alone in the dark kitchen, I leaned against the counter and took a deep breath. The rain continued, but I heard a new sound—a faint scratching, like nails on wood. It seemed to come from the ceiling above. I rolled my eyes, assuming it was Eli dragging his chair to the window. ‘Stop it, Eli!’ I yelled, but the scratching continued.

I grabbed the flashlight and decided to check on them. I climbed the stairs, the wooden steps groaning under my weight. The hallway at the top was darker than the downstairs, and the flashlight beam flickered. I called their names, but no one answered. Their doors were shut. I opened Eli’s door first—empty. Lily’s too—empty.

A cold dread crept up my spine. I ran to the attic door, which was at the end of the hall. It was ajar, and a draft of frigid air seeped out. I pushed it open and climbed the narrow stairs, my heart pounding in my ears.

The attic was cluttered with old trunks, dusty furniture, and forgotten memories. In the corner, I saw Eli and Lily huddled together, shivering. They were staring at something on the far wall. A pattern of frost had formed there, and in the hoarfrost, letters began to appear as if an invisible finger was writing them.

‘CORA,’ the letters spelled.

My blood ran cold. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. The scratching sound was right behind me now, and I turned to see the outline of a woman in a long dress, her face obscured by shadow, reaching out a hand toward my brother.

‘Eli, run!’ I finally screamed, but before I could move, the temperature plummeted and the floor beneath my feet gave way. I fell through a rotten board into the darkness below, landing hard on the floor of the study. When I looked up, I saw the soldier, his uniform tattered, his eyes hollow, standing over me with a revolver in his hand. He raised it to his head, and the shot echoed through the house.

I woke with a start. I was on the couch, the TV still on, but static filled the screen. The sun was setting, and the rain had stopped. I heard Lily’s laughter from the kitchen. I rushed in, and there they were—Eli and Lily, drawing on the chalkboard, their faces bright. ‘Cora, we made a plan!’ Lily chirped.

I looked at the board. It was covered in the same pentagrams and symbols. But this time, I didn’t find it stupid. I saw the words ‘WE SUMMON THEE’ written clearly, and I knew our story wasn’t over. I just didn’t know if we were the ones who had summoned something, or if it had already been waiting for us.