The Twins Meet Margot

James gathered his family in a circle. He recognized uncertainty in their faces and the desire to leave this place as quickly as possible. He straightened his shoulders. Now was the time to truly be the head of this family. He gave each of his loved ones a firm look in the eye and spoke with a chest full of conviction.

“It's been a long, exhausting ride here. We are tired and our nerves are frayed. And this house is really something special. So it's quite understandable that we overestimate perfectly normal things. But you don't believe in hauntings or ghosts, do you?”

He received nods and murmurs of agreement, even if it didn't sound particularly credible. But they all picked up their luggage and trotted back into the house.

“All right, guys. Just pick rooms upstairs and get sorted. We can discuss the final arrangements tomorrow. We'll meet back in the kitchen for dinner in thirty minutes. Okay with you?”

Everyone was happy for him to take charge and followed his suggestion.

While their parents took the master's bedroom for themselves, the twins were free to roam the long hall and explore the other chambers adjacent to it. Finally, Lisa and Liam stood in the doorway of what the twin sister decided was the "best room" in the house — a large single bedroom with faded floral wallpaper and a giant, creaking bed. As Aunt Margot had been a bachelor woman all her life, this must have been her personal haven.

Lisa smirked as she flopped onto the bed, sending up a puff of dust. “Well, if this is the best room, I’d hate to see the worst. Feels like we’re squatting in a Jane Austen novel.”

Liam chuckled and opened the wardrobe, revealing a line of moth-eaten high-necked black dresses. He wrinkled his nose. “The real horror is Aunt Margot’s sense of fashion. Did they even have colors back then?”

A sudden breeze swept through the room, though the windows were tightly shut. Lisa sat up, her smirk fading. She shivered. “Uh, did you feel that?”

Before Liam could answer, the wardrobe door slammed shut with a bang. The old mirror above the dresser fogged over as if someone were breathing on it. Slowly, words began to appear on the silvered glass, written by an invisible hand:

“Who dares mock my taste?”

The twins froze. Lisa’s voice wavered. “Liam... is this a prank? Because if it is, I’m not laughing.”

“It’s not me!” Liam hissed, backing away from the wardrobe.

The air grew heavy, and the faint scent of lavender and something more intoxicating filled the room. From the shadows, a figure emerged—a woman in her mid-thirties, draped in a flowing black lace negligee that clung to her curves in a way that made the twins simultaneously uneasy and unable to look away. Her hair cascaded like ink, and her pale lips curled into a mischievous smile.

“Mock my fashion, will you?” the ghost purred, her voice velvety and teasing. “This negligee was the height of scandal in 1923. How do you like it?”

She turned elegantly around herself as if she were presenting her scanty nightgown in a fashion show.

Lisa found her voice first. “Wh-who are you?”

The ghost stepped closer, tilting her head. “I’m Margot, of course. Your dear, departed aunt. Or, great aunt? And this...” She gestured to herself with a flourish. “...is my house. Or rather, it was. Now it’s ours.”

Liam’s mouth went dry. “Ours?”

“Oh, yes,” Margot replied, her smile deepening. “You’ll find my influence… intoxicating.” She ran a cold, ethereal finger under Liam’s chin, making him shudder. “But you might find it hard to know where I end... and you begin.”

The twins glanced at each other, panic flickering between them.

“Welcome home,” Margot whispered, before vanishing with a soft, mocking laugh, leaving the room cold and filled with the scent of lavender.

Lisa broke the silence. “Okay. I take it back. I would like to see the worst room now.”