The Last Barstool

The old dance hall had been dead for decades, but that hadn’t stopped me from dragging my equipment up its creaking stairs. My name is Mara, and I’ve been chasing the invisible for three years now. This was my third official investigation, and so far, it had been disappointingly quiet. I had set up in what used to be the manager’s office, a cramped space with peeling floral wallpaper and a single window that looked out onto a weed-choked parking lot. I had been sitting there for an hour, whispering into my recorder, asking for any sign, but the only response was the distant hum of a refrigerator somewhere below.

Frustrated, I decided to find my partner, a grizzled old skeptic named Ellis who had taken me under his wing. He had been exploring the main ballroom, which still smelled of stale beer and cheap perfume. I found him near the stage, holding a digital voice recorder and looking pleased with himself. ‘I got something,’ he said, his eyes glinting in the dim light from his headlamp. ‘A voice. It said my name.’ I felt a flicker of excitement. ‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Upstairs. There’s a room at the top of the building, used to be the owner’s private lounge. I think we should check it out.’

We climbed another narrow flight of stairs, our footsteps echoing in the silence. The door at the top was stuck, but we managed to force it open. Inside, the room was mostly empty, save for a few abandoned bar stools stacked in the corner and a single, battered stuffed rabbit lying in the middle of the floor. The floorboards were warped, and the plaster was crumbling from the walls. One window overlooked the back of the building, where a tangle of old power lines and a dead oak tree dominated the view. There was a candle on the windowsill, half burned, probably left by a previous investigator. Ellis lit it, and we turned off our headlamps, letting the tiny flame cast dancing shadows.

We stood in the flickering glow, calling out into the dark. ‘Is anyone here?’ I asked. ‘We mean you no harm.’ At first, nothing. Then, from the far corner, we heard a soft rustling. I felt a surge of hope, but just as quickly, Ellis dismissed it. ‘That’s just the other group downstairs, moving around. I heard them say they were heading to the basement.’ I strained my ears, but the sound faded. My excitement dimmed. This was turning out to be another boring night.

Ellis suggested we go back down to the ballroom, where he had been coaxing a glass to move earlier. ‘I had it sliding across the table,’ he said. ‘Let’s try that again.’ I nodded, but as I turned to leave, something caught my eye. The stuffed rabbit. It was on the other side of the room now. I froze. It had been right in the center when we came in, but now it sat near the wall, as if someone had nudged it. ‘Ellis,’ I whispered. ‘Did you touch that rabbit?’ He looked at me, then at the toy, and shook his head. ‘No. But this place is old. Maybe it fell.’ I knew that was nonsense. The rabbit had been sitting upright, and now it was leaning against the baseboard, facing the door.

I walked over to the rabbit, my heart starting to pound. I knelt down and examined it. It was a faded pink, with one button eye missing and the other glassy and black. Its stuffing was lumpy, and it smelled faintly of dust and something sweet. ‘Hey,’ I said softly, trying to make a connection. ‘Are you the one making noise?’ I half-expected a response, but there was only the creak of the old building. I picked up the rabbit and brought it back to the center of the room. ‘Let’s leave it as we found it,’ I told Ellis. He shrugged and started for the door.

We descended the stairs, the candle’s flame flickering behind us, and returned to the ballroom. The glass was still on the table where Ellis had left it, a small, chipped tumbler. He sat down, placed his fingertips on the glass, and began to ask questions. ‘Is there anyone here with us? Show us by moving the glass to ‘YES’.’ The glass remained still. I watched, but minutes passed with no activity. Ellis sighed. ‘Maybe we should call it a night. It’s getting late.’ I agreed, but I couldn’t shake the image of that rabbit.

As we packed up our gear, I mentioned the rabbit to Ellis. ‘You know, I think that toy might be significant. Maybe it belonged to a child who lived here.’ Ellis looked at me, a flicker of interest in his eyes. ‘Or maybe it was left by someone who didn’t want to be forgotten.’ He paused. ‘You seem bothered. Let’s check it again before we go.’ We climbed back up to the room, and to our astonishment, the candle was still lit, burning steady despite the draft. And the rabbit was gone. We searched the room, but there was no sign of it. The only thing left was the candle, which had melted into a pool of wax on the windowsill.

I felt a chill run down my spine. ‘Where did it go?’ I asked, more to myself than to Ellis. He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. But I think we should leave now.’ We hurried down the stairs, our footsteps louder than before, and I couldn’t help but feel that something was watching from that room. As we stepped out into the cool night air, I looked back at the building. The window on the third floor was dark, but I thought I saw a faint outline of a small figure, holding something. I blinked, and it was gone. But I knew what I had seen. It was the rabbit, standing on its own, as if it had been waiting for us to leave.

We drove home in silence, and I tried to rationalize what had happened. Maybe the rabbit had fallen behind something. But a part of me knew it wasn’t that simple. I couldn’t shake the feeling that we had disturbed something that had been resting for a long time, and that the rabbit was a messenger, a guardian of a secret that the old dance hall had kept for years. I still have that candle, melted and cold, sitting on my desk. Sometimes, at night, I think I see a faint light in it, and I remember that room, and the little pink rabbit that vanished into thin air, leaving me with more questions than answers. And I know, deep down, that the last barstool in that room was not empty. It was occupied by a presence that was waiting for someone to notice.