An Icy Gust Of Wind

I ventured deeper into the house, traversing deserted hallways and peering into empty rooms. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet. Dim, subdued lamps cast an atmospheric glow rather than bright light. Trembling shadows seemed to make the walls appear almost alive.

Someone must have been here and lit them, so I couldn't be alone. But there was no sign of a party anywhere. No loud music, no excited laughter and chatter. No drunken, scantily clad witch appeared from nowhere, stumbling around and spilling her drink on the carpet. Was I in the right place?

I took another step, then another. The air smelled of dust and ozone instead of beer and cheap perfume, as you would expect at a high school party. I began to suspect that this was supposed to be a stupid joke and that if I showed fear, everyone would jump out of their hiding places, point their fingers, and laugh at me.

"Hey, guys, come out. This isn't funny," I called out, trying to make my voice sound firmer than I felt.

I listened for a response. Nothing. Only silence.

Then I thought I heard muffled groans and quiet giggles from above. Aha, that's where they're hiding. Watch out!

Determined, I climbed the stairs. The steps creaked, but seemed sturdy enough.

No sooner had I reached the top than an icy gust of wind swept through the stairwell and up my legs.

Eek! My pleated skirt was blown up and suddenly I was standing there with my bare bottom exposed, covered only by my skimpy yellow thong.

I looked behind me and what I saw made my blood run cold.