The Cleansing
Part 1: Arrival
The drive north feels endless.
Mile after mile of snow-packed backroads.
Headlights swallowed by white.
By the time you reach Vermont, the night is a tunnel of storm.
The bed-and-breakfast is a relief.
Old siding. Windows glowing through frost.
Locals whisper it has its own ghosts.
But it is warmth. Food. A thin slice of normalcy.
Standing on the porch you look across the street.
The lake is frozen solid.
A man in a pickup spins wide donuts across the ice.
Headlights bouncing like fireflies.
Reckless. Absurd. Yet, grounding.
You hold onto that image… there is something peaceful about it.
Because tomorrow’s case has weight.
You are sent this case by the Paranormal Clergy… no other team will accept it.
They give you background, but you quickly learn that the entire neighborhood block carries whispers of suicides.
Several hanged at an overpass nearby.
Stories that cling like second skin.
If what you’ve heard is true… this one could leave a mark.
Morning.
Steel-colored skies.
You and the team pack up your gear and drive the short stretch into town.
The house waits at the end of the block.
Unassuming. Silent.
Before you can knock, the door opens.
A man and woman step out quickly.
“Can we talk outside first?” the woman asks.
On the porch, they keep their voices low as if the house is listening.
“Thank you for coming all this way,” the man says.
“We’re at our wits’ end. We don’t know what to do anymore.”
The woman’s eyes dart back to the house.
“It’s been… different today. Like it knows you’re here.”
You tell them they are in good hands.
That you are here to help.
You ask if they’d be available by phone if needed.
They nod. Staying at a friend’s place tonight.
The keys pass into your hand.
You already have the layout of the home.
The rest is up to you.
Inside, the air shifts instantly.
From the corner of your vision you see it.
A shadow.
Female in form.
It darts across the living room and vanishes down the hallway.
The house has acknowledged you.
***
Part 2: The Setup
(You chose: Stay cautious and begin setup.)
The team stays 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 is humming, you begin the sweep.
Basement first.
The space is cold, crowded with tools.
A heavy wooden bench stretches across one wall,
lined with hammers, wrenches, screwdrivers…
a craftsman’s space.
You set down the EMF device - electromagnetic field.
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.
You feel a slight headache emerge.
That pressure before a storm.
You turn on the ITC real-time audio device. Instrumental Trans-Communication.
A term that refers to using electronic devices to try to communicate with non-physical entities.
Questions come easily.
And then
A man’s voice breaks through.
Startling everyone.
Not threatening.
Warm. Familiar.
The kind of ghost you wouldn’t mind having a couple beers with.
You ask why he is here.
He answers… “I — live — here.”
Another reply, casual.
“Can you — hand me — my hammer?”
While you talk, the team sweeps the basement.
One of them gasps…
peeking around a nook by the stairs.
She rushes 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 speaks again.
You gather from the questions you have been asking that his name is Bob.
This time, his tone shifts.
Urgent. Sharp.
“Get out of the house.”
You ask why he stays.
He answers…
“Safe down here.”
The EMF spikes.
Loud static blasts through the device.
Then silence.
Shut off completely.
You stand there, frozen, with only questions.
What does Bob mean?
What was that figure your teammate just saw?
And what is wrong with the rest of the house?
***
Part 3: The Nook
(You chose: Press deeper into the basement.)
The team moves together, flashlights cutting across the shadows.
Toward the nook by the stairs.
A row of boxes blocks the way.
Old, heavy, stacked like someone doesn’t want you back there.
You and two others shift them aside.
The scrape of cardboard against concrete echoes too loud.
Behind the wall of boxes…
Something waits.
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 thickens.
Ritual.
Anchor.
Something meant to hold the door open.
Bob’s warning still echoes in your ears.
“Get out of the house.”
Then suddenly…
Static.
The ITC device in your hand crackles alive.
A surge of energy runs up your arm.
A shock so sharp you drop the box onto the ground.
Your team freezes.
The voice bleeds through the static, urgent, panicked.
“You have to get out of the house!”
The device hisses, sparks…
then dies in your hands.
“Jesus!” one teammate yelps, eyes wide at the corner of the nook.
“I saw it again! The shadow figure, glowing. It was right there!”
You catch it too.
Just a flicker.
Enough to understand why you are brought here.
One of your newer members steps back, pale.
“I need a minute… outside,” he mutters, clutching his chest.
Something is pressing on him.
Something heavy.
The basement is no longer safe.
And yet…
you know this is only the beginning.
***
Part 4: Upstairs
(You chose: Head upstairs.)
You leave the basement 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 ITC device, which 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.
