Mysterious Awakening

Throughout the day, Mr. Beach had been trying to get in touch with Miles, only to end up feeling irate when the audacious teenager, who hadn’t even grown a full beard, demanded a staggering fee of half a million dollars. If not for his daughter’s insistence on seeking Miles’s assistance, Mr. Beach would have never entertained such an idea. He doubted whether an adolescent could comprehend, let alone handle a situation as grave as a haunting.

The stress of his daughter’s predicament had weighed heavily on Mr. Beach, compelling him to take a few days off from work. He wanted to provide her with emotional support during this challenging time.

“Coral’s health seems to be deteriorating,” Mrs. Ocean, Mr. Beach’s wife, voiced her concern. “Despite being physically healthy, she appears to have a weak nervous system, probably due to a traumatic event. Should we consider consulting a psychiatrist tomorrow?”

“Yes, it seems like the only viable solution,” Mr. Beach responded, his voice laced with frustration. “That Miles’s demand for such an exorbitant fee is unreasonable. How did Coral get mixed up with such an audacious individual? We need to limit her interaction with him.”

“I’ve been skeptical about Miles since our first encounter. His audacity knows no bounds, even demanding two hundred dollars,” Mrs. Ocean concurred, her face twisted in disdain.

As the couple was engrossed in their discussion in the living room, a loud bang reverberated. Coral’s bedroom door had slammed shut abruptly. Out of the corner of their eyes, they saw a figure darting into her room.

Mr. Beach’s expression transformed instantly, and he swiftly rose from his seat. Mrs. Ocean was equally shocked, stammering, “Dear, did you see that… it looked like a child just ran into Coral’s room.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions and scare ourselves,” Mr. Beach cautioned, despite looking ashen himself. He had seen it too – a childlike figure with skin resembling a stillborn’s, bolting into Coral’s room. This seemed impossible since they lived on the sixteenth floor, and the main door was securely closed.

Suddenly, a piercing scream emanated from Coral’s room. Mr. Beach immediately rushed towards the door and swung it open, revealing a room swallowed in darkness, an unusual sight given Coral’s recent fear of the dark.

As he fumbled for the light switch, his hand brushed against something eerily cold and soft, like a child’s hand. Startled, he recoiled.

Just then, a panic-stricken Coral bolted out of the room, her face ashen and body trembling. Mrs. Ocean quickly embraced her, asking in a trembling voice, “What happened, dear? Are you okay?”

Mustering up his courage, Mr. Beach once again reached for the light switch. This time, his hand didn’t encounter the eerie touch of a child’s cold hand.

With the light flooding the room, it stood empty, devoid of the supposed child they had spotted earlier. However, what he saw next left him feeling cold; the room was adorned with tiny, grimy footprints – on the floor, around the bed, and inexplicably, even on the walls and ceiling.

This sight thoroughly shattered Mr. Beach’s composure. His hand trembled as he quickly dialed Miles’s number, coming to the dreadful realization that their home might indeed be haunted.

“Ocean, take Coral and leave this place immediately,” he instructed, his voice shaky. “We’ll check into a hotel for a few days; this place isn’t safe.”

Complying with his urgency, Mrs. Ocean nodded, “I’ll pack a few essentials.”

On the other end of the line, Miles answered the call.

“Hello, is this Miles?” Mr. Beach inquired.

Currently on a break at his security job, Miles responded, “Yes, Mr. Beach, how may I assist you?”

“We need you at our place immediately,” Mr. Beach pleaded, his voice fraught with worry. “The matter we discussed earlier, we can negotiate the payment.”

“I’m at work, but if it’s not an urgent matter, we could discuss it over the phone?” Miles suggested.

“No, I must see you in person. Where are you working? I’ll come to you,” Mr. Beach decided, feeling the gravity of the situation at home.

“Furen Mall,” Miles disclosed.

“We’ll be there shortly,” confirmed Mr. Beach. But as he was about to exit, the front door refused to open.

“Is something wrong? Aren’t we leaving?” Mrs. Ocean asked, a hint of worry lacing her voice.

“The door… it’s jammed. It won’t open,” Mr. Beach replied with a puzzled frown.

“Perhaps something is obstructing it,” Mrs. Ocean suggested.

Deciding to check, Mr. Beach peered through the door’s peephole. His heart pounded as he spotted a child, its naked bluish-black body pressed against the door. The child’s eyes, entirely black without any visible pupils, stared back innocently yet eerily.

Stumbling back in fright, Mr. Beach paled, “Miles, are you still there? Please don’t hang up. There’s a child outside our door, we can’t leave. Can you help us? We can negotiate the price…”

Miles, taken aback, quickly regained his composure. “Stay away from it and be cautious. I’ll try to reach you as soon as possible,” he advised, hanging up the call and hastily leaving his post.

His coworker called after him, “Hey, Miles, where are you off to?”

“I have an emergency; I’ll be back soon,” he responded curtly, already on his way.

In the midst of his fear, Mr. Beach noticed the door handle begin to twist slowly, hinting at the entity’s attempt to enter. Panicked, he rushed towards the door, ensuring every bolt was securely fastened, every lock firmly latched.

“The thing is trying to get in! Where’s Miles? I need Miles!” Coral wailed, teetering on the edge of hysteria due to the intense fear gripping her.

Mr. Beach, though shaken to his core, attempted to keep his composure. The front door, now eerily quiet, brought him no comfort; instead, it magnified his unease.

“Husband, what’s going on?” Mrs. Ocean asked, clearly perplexed and alarmed by the situation.

“We need to move away from the door. Let’s retreat to the bedroom,” Mr. Beach urged, sensing the increasing danger. He shepherded his wife and daughter back into the master bedroom, turning on all possible lights for solace and securely closing the bedroom door behind them.

His gaze remained locked on the bedroom door, praying for no signs of intrusion. As moments passed without any disturbance, he permitted himself a brief sigh of relief.

However, his peace was short-lived. A sound echoed from the living room – the distinct creak of the front door opening.

“Impossible,” he thought, panic seizing him again. He was certain he had secured the front door with multiple locks. How could it open so easily? Was the child he’d seen truly a ghostly entity?

Lost in a whirl of anxiety, Mr. Beach desperately sought a way out.

His gaze landed on the window. They were on the sixteenth floor – a dangerous height. An attempt to scale the wall and reach the neighboring apartment was fraught with risk, a single misstep spelling certain doom.

Were they destined to simply sit in their fear, waiting for whatever fate was closing in on them?