The Cleansing
Part 1: Arrival
The drive north felt endless.
Mile after mile of snow-packed backroads.
Headlights swallowed by white.
By the time you reached Vermont, the night was a tunnel of storm.
The bed-and-breakfast was a relief.
Old siding. Windows glowing through frost.
Locals whispered it had its own ghosts.
But it was warmth. Food. A thin slice of normalcy.
Standing on the porch you looked across the street.
The lake was frozen solid.
A man in a pickup spun wide donuts across the ice.
Headlights bouncing like fireflies.
Reckless. Absurd. Yet, grounding.
You held onto that image… there was something peaceful about it.
Because tomorrow’s case had weight.
You were sent this case by the Paranormal Clergy… no other team would accept it.
They gave you background, but you quickly learned that the entire neighborhood block carried whispers of suicides.
Several hanged at an overpass nearby.
Stories that clung like second skin.
If what you’d heard was true… this one could leave a mark.
Morning.
Steel-colored skies.
You and the team packed up your gear and drove the short stretch into town.
The house waited at the end of the block.
Unassuming. Silent.
Before you could knock, the door opened.
A man and woman stepped out quickly.
“Can we talk outside first?” the woman asked.
On the porch, their voices were tight.
“Thank you for coming all this way,” the man said.
“We’re at our wits’ end. We don’t know what to do anymore.”
The woman’s eyes darted back to the house.
“It’s been… different today. Like it knows you’re here.”
You told them they were in good hands.
That you were here to help.
Asked if they’d be available by phone if needed.
They nodded. Staying at a friend’s place tonight.
The keys passed into your hand.
You already had the layout of the home.
The rest was up to you.
Inside, the air shifted instantly.
From the corner of your vision you saw it!
A shadow.
Female in form.
It darted across the living room and vanished down the hallway.
The house has acknowledged you.
***
Part 2: The Setup
(You chose: Stay cautious and begin setup.)
The team stayed together.
First order of business… the setup.
Sound stages in every major room.
Recorders red-light blinking, already running.
Audio rolling for EVP capture.
Because sometimes the best evidence doesn’t wait.
It shows up in the middle of cables and chatter.
Once the gear was humming, you began the sweep.
Basement first.
The space was cold, crowded with tools.
A heavy wooden bench stretched across one wall,
lined with hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers—
a craftsman’s space.
You set down the EMF device.
Low-key, they piss you off.
But you get it.
Good for ruling out interference.
And when it spikes during other things… you can’t ignore that.
The air shifted.
Like pressure before a storm.
You flicked on the ITC real-time audio device.
Questions came easy.
And then
A man’s voice broke through.
Startled everyone.
Not threatening.
Warm. Familiar.
The kind of ghost you wouldn’t mind having a couple beers with.
You asked why he was here.
He answered… “I live here.”
Another reply, casual.
“Can you hand me my hammer?”
While you talked, the team swept the basement.
One of them gasped…
peeking around a nook by the stairs.
She rushed back, wide-eyed.
“I saw it!
A shadow figure… skin almost glowing.
And then a voice!
Right in my ear.
It said: Hello.”
The man through the box spoke again.
You gathered from the question you had been asking that his name was Bob.
This time, his tone shifted.
Urgent. Sharp.
“Get out of the house.”
You asked why he stayed.
He answered…
“Safe down here.”
The EMF spiked.
Loud static blasted through the device.
Then silence.
Shut off completely.
You stood there, frozen, with only questions.
What did Bob mean?
What was that figure your teammate saw?
And what was wrong with the rest of the house?
***
Part 3: The Nook
(You chose: Press deeper into the basement.)
The team moved together, flashlights cutting across the shadows.
Toward the nook by the stairs.
A row of boxes blocked the way.
Old, heavy, stacked like someone didn’t want you back there.
You and two others shifted them aside.
The scrape of cardboard against concrete echoed too loud.
Behind the wall of boxes…
Something waited.
A symbol.
Circular, burned into the floor.
Dark wax markings pooled around it,
as if candles had been placed there again and again.
The air thickened.
Ritual.
Anchor.
Something meant to hold the door open.
Bob’s warning still echoed in your ears.
“Get out of the house.”
Then suddenly…
Static.
The ITC device in your hand crackled alive.
A surge of energy ran up your arm.
A shock so sharp you dropped the box onto the ground.
Your team froze.
The voice bled through the static, urgent, panicked.
“You have to get out of the house!”
The device hissed, sparked…
then died in your hands.
“Jesus!” one teammate yelped, eyes wide at the corner of the nook.
“I saw it again! The shadow figure, glowing. It was right there!”
You caught it too.
Just a flicker.
Enough to understand why you were brought here.
One of your newer members stepped back, pale.
“I need a minute… outside,” he muttered, clutching his chest.
Something was pressing on him.
Something heavy.
The basement was no longer safe.
And yet…
you knew this was only the beginning.
***
Part 4: Upstairs
(You chose: Head upstairs.)
The basement is left behind.
But Bob’s warning follows you.
Static still rings in your bones.
You have never had a piece of equipment shock you like that.
You all decide to go to the second floor.
Each stair groans underfoot.
The air grows heavier…
harder to breathe, thick in your chest.
This feels like a really bad horror movie.
The moment you yell at the character…
Because they are an idiot for continuing down a path of obvious doom.
At the landing, doors line the hall.
You open the first.
Empty.
Just a guest room stripped bare.
Second door…
a child’s room once.
Wallpaper peeled in curling strips.
Cold as stone.
Then the last door.
The master.
The moment you step inside, it feels still.
Pressure.
Behind your eyes.
Across your ribs.
Like the room is leaning on you.
Against the far wall stands something strange.
Not a wardrobe.
Not a cabinet.
Something else.
Wood, dark with age.
A confessional?
Your team freezes.
One whispers, “Why would that even be here?”
Another speaks up,
“Don’t you remember from the intake? A priest lived here once.”
The atmospheric sensors streaming to your computer stationed in the room suddenly all drop in unison.
The EMF spikes and wails.
The whole room shifts in real time.
Then the rush.
A wall of energy hits
like a train ripping through your body.
Your vision swims.
The floor tilts.
Your legs barely hold.
The house isn’t just haunted.
Something doesn’t want you here.
***
Part 5: Hold Your Ground
(You chose: Stay in the master bedroom and push through the energy.)
You plant your feet.
No running.
No retreat.
The team shifts behind you.
Cameras roll.
Recorders blink.
Every device seems alive.
The pressure climbs.
Your ribs ache.
Your skull feels like it might split.
You feel as though something is trying to force its way into your mind.
You manage a question.
“Who are you?”
The response doesn’t come through a device.
It comes inside your head.
Ask me what.
You snap back out loud.
“No!”
A hand touches your shoulder.
One of your teammates whispers, “Who are you talking to?”
The voice returns, louder.
ASK ME WHAT I AM.
A high-pitched ring tears through your ears.
You drop the device.
You clutch your head.
You shout, “I will not!”
One teammate doubles over.
Another grips the doorway, pale, gasping.
Then come the disembodied screams from the confessional.
Not one voice.
Many.
Layered and violent.
Later you’ll learn these were captured across every recorder at once that night.
Then Bob breaks through your IT. Device that now has a large crack through the wooden frame.
His voice sharp, panicked.
“You can’t stop it… not like this!”
The lights on your gear all spike red.
The room shakes.
And then… black.
Every device dies at once.
The team stands in silence,
swallowed whole by the dark.
Something tells you that you need to get out of the house before it picks up again.
Ground yourself… even though that’s not your thing.
You’ll do anything at this point.
Your vision blurs, dreamlike.
Each step down the stairs feels heavy, unreal.
Your team follows close.
You make it out of the house…
but the story isn’t finished.
Darkness… my old friend.
End of Story 7.
