The Counting Game

My sixteenth birthday was supposed to be a simple sleepover at my Aunt Mabel’s old farmhouse, a place my cousins swore was haunted. My friends – Lena, Priya, Jess, and Maya – were all excited to test the legend. The house was a creaking Victorian relic, surrounded by rows of dead corn that rustled even on windless nights. We set up our sleeping bags in the dusty living room, lit a few candles for ambiance, and told each other we weren’t scared.

After a couple hours of silly games, Priya went to the downstairs bathroom. She came back pale, her hands shaking. ‘There’s a little girl in there, standing by the tub,’ she whispered. ‘She was just… watching me.’ We laughed it off, blaming her overactive imagination and the old house’s creaks. But a cold dread settled in my stomach, and I noticed Jess staring at the bathroom door, her smile gone.

Later, we played spin the bottle, even though we were all girls. Lena and Priya had to kiss. As their lips met, a shadow fell over them, a flicker in the candlelight, and a strange giggle echoed from the corner of the room – a sound like broken wind chimes. It vanished as quickly as it came, leaving an unnatural silence. We all froze, but then Maya laughed nervously, and we pretended it was nothing.

Desperate to shake off the unease, I suggested hide-and-seek. I was ‘it’, counting to fifty with my face against the wall. When I finished, the house was eerily quiet. I searched every room, calling their names. In the upstairs hallway, I heard a giggle behind me. I spun around – nothing. The giggle came again, from the closet. I yanked it open, but it was empty, just dusty coats. The giggling continued, moving from room to room, always just out of sight. I felt a cold breath on my neck, and I ran downstairs in a panic.

I found the others outside, sitting on the porch steps, looking at me as if I was mad. ‘Where were you hiding?’ Lena asked. ‘We’ve been waiting for you for ages.’ They insisted they never entered the house after running out when the candles blew out. I stood there, heart pounding, realizing the giggles I’d chased were never theirs. And from the upstairs window, I saw a small hand press against the glass, then a face with wide, empty eyes, smiling at me. It raised its hand and counted down on its fingers: five, four, three, two, one. And then the lights in the house went out, and I knew the game was still on.