The Entrance Hall

James fished the large iron key from his pocket, opened and pushed the heavy double doors with some effort, the hinges groaning in protest as if **** to yield. A gust of icy air rushed out to meet them, carrying with it the faint scent of aged wood and decaying flowers. The family hesitated at the threshold, each taking a moment to absorb the sight before them.

The grand entrance hall stretched out before them, a cavernous ancient space that seemed to swallow their small, modern family whole. The floor was a patchwork of black-and-white marble tiles, scuffed but still gleaming in the dim light filtering through a massive stained-glass window above the staircase. The window depicted an eerie scene of angels and demons locked in eternal combat, their faces distorted by time and dust.

"Wow," Lisa breathed, her voice echoing faintly in the vast room.

A massive chandelier hung overhead, its countless crystal droplets catching the moonlight and scattering faint rainbows across the walls. The candles on the chandelier were unlit, but the faint scent of wax and smoke lingered, as though it had been used recently.

Helen stepped inside cautiously, her heels clicking sharply against the marble. Her eyes were drawn to the sweeping double staircase at the far end of the hall, its banisters intricately carved with curling vines and strange faces that seemed to smirk in the shadows.

“This is…” she began, trailing off as her gaze drifted upward to the vaulted ceiling. Painted frescoes covered the expanse above them, depicting stormy skies and figures caught in dramatic poses. She shivered despite herself.

“A bit much?” James finished, stepping in behind her with the twins. His voice was light, but his eyes darted nervously around the space, lingering on the dark corners where the moonlight didn’t reach.

Liam crossed the threshold next, his sneakers squeaking faintly as he walked. “This is insane,” he said, his tone torn between awe and disbelief. “It’s like a museum.”

Lisa passed him quickly and wandered toward the staircase, her fingers brushing the cool marble banister. “It’s like something out of a story,” she murmured, her voice reverent. “A gothic horror story. I like it.”

“Don’t start,” Helen said sharply, her nerves fraying.

The sound of her voice seemed to stir the room itself. A faint creak echoed from somewhere above them, followed by what sounded like a muffled sigh. All four of them froze.

“What was that?” Liam whispered, his bravado from earlier vanishing.

“It’s an old house,” James said quickly, though his voice lacked conviction. “It’s bound to make strange noises.”

Helen shot him a look but said nothing, clutching her handbag tightly as if it could offer some form of protection.

The twins exchanged uneasy glances but said nothing as the family moved deeper into the hall. Against one wall stood a series of portraits, their subjects shrouded in shadow. Helen approached one hesitantly, reaching out to brush the thick layer of dust away from the gilded frame. The painting revealed a stern-looking woman in a high-necked black dress, her eyes sharp and her expression unreadable.

“Is this…” Helen began, glancing back at James.

“Ya. My aunt, Margot,” he confirmed, his voice low.

“She looks like she’s staring right at me,” Liam added, nervously taking a step back.

“I think, she looks very friendly,” Lisa said, tilting her head to examine the portrait closer.

Before anyone could respond, a sudden noise shattered the tense silence — a loud *thud* from somewhere upstairs, followed by the unmistakable sound of faint footsteps.

The family froze, their eyes darting to the staircase. The sound was slow and deliberate, as though someone — or something — was moving toward them.

“It’s probably just an animal,” James said, his voice cracking slightly.

“An animal that walks?” Lisa whispered, her voice trembling.

Helen’s grip tightened on her bag as she took a step closer to her husband. “James…”

The footsteps stopped abruptly, leaving only the heavy silence of the house around them. The family stood motionless, their breath shallow as they stared up into the darkness above.

“Well,” James said finally, forcing a laugh that sounded hollow even to himself, “let’s hope the bedrooms aren’t as creepy as the rest of this place.”

No one responded, but as they turned to move their luggage inside, a faint whisper echoed down the staircase, carried on an invisible breeze:

“Welcome home, family.”

They froze, their eyes wide as the words hung in the air, faint but unmistakable.