I’m not entirely sure what I had expected, however it was not this. Before me stood a girl. A young girl. She couldn’t have been over the age of ten. She was a bit taller than my waist, with huge, bulging eyes as dark as the night. Her hair was long, glossy, and as black as her eyes. It reached down to her hips. She was adorned with a dress that could only be described as colonial, and her feet were bare. I stared at her, marveling at what I saw. 

After a moment, I regained my composure. I spoke first. “Um, hello,” I said, speaking gingerly, so as not to frighten her. “I seem to have lost my way, and, um, are your parents home? Or maybe an adult?” 

The girl cracked a smile, showcasing two rows of pearly white teeth which stood out against her unnaturally red lips. “My parents are gone,” she said with an apathetic tone. I was taken aback.

“Oh? Are they on a trip? Or running errands?” I managed to squeak out. I prayed the answer was yes, but there was something about the way this girl spoke that told me this wasn’t the case.

She continued to smile as she replied. “No. They are gone. Would you like to come inside? You look cold.”

As she pointed it out, my ears began to fill with the sound of my own teeth chattering and I looked down at my trembling hands. I was cold. And this girl seemed quite gentle. Besides, what harm could a child this young possibly do to me?

After a moment of consideration, I replied. “OK, that sounds very nice. Thank you.” Still beaming, the girl turned and led me through the doorway. I glanced around me as we walked. The walls were lined with horrifying photographs of many, many people, in which faces of pure terror, eyes wide with surprise, were displayed. Each photograph resided in its own frame. The frames were extravagant, with intricately carved embellishments of silver and gold. This wouldn’t have struck me as odd ordinarily, except for the fact that these frames seemed to be the only thing of their nature in the house. All the other furnishings were bleak and simple, and it looked as if it had seen years upon years of use. What was even more peculiar was the dates under every one. I scanned them over. November 4th, 2012. January 29th, 1987. June 17th, 1925. There were dates going back to almost one hundred years ago. As I looked into the wild, petrified eyes of the photographed people, chills ran down my spine. The quicker I got out of here, the better. 

The girl led me down a short hallway and into a sitting room. It was small but oddly cozy. There was a sofa with a faded floral pattern and a cracked leather armchair. In the center of the room stood a rectangular coffee table that could have been an elementary schooler’s art project. The room was pulled together by an enormous fireplace. Flames roared and popped within it, spewing sparks out onto the rug. The scent of the smoke permeated the air, I could feel it pouring into my nose and down my throat with every breath. The girl pointed to the armchair and instructed me to sit. I did so, running my hand over the soft, worn leather beneath me. 

She was the one to speak first this time. “I should tell you my name, shouldn’t I? I’m Lilith. What is your’s?” She looked at me expectantly.

“I’m Penny,” I answered. “It’s nice to meet you, Lilith.” She continued to smile, not saying anything. “So, Lilith, you’re probably wondering why a stranger showed up at your door. To sum it up, I’m lost, here in these woods. I can’t explain how it happened. What I’m trying to ask is whether you might be able to help me find my way out? Or know someone who can?” Just then, I thought of what she had said when I asked about her parents. What did she mean, they were gone? Gone where? Surely she didn’t live alone in this house, here, in these woods with their reputation for being dangerous?

“Yes, I can help you. But not today, it is too late. Tomorrow, I will help you,” she replied as relief washed over me. “Don’t get too excited,” she said, as if she had read my mind. “You must help me too. Not to worry, it’s nothing too demanding or tedious. Just a few quick favors. I’m glad you found me, I enjoy company.'' Her eyes bore into me as she spoke. There was something unsettling about her eyes. Yes, they were black, which was strange enough. However, it wasn’t just that. Her eyes were skeptical, they were devious. There were a million thoughts behind those eyes, bubbling up to the surface, just enough to make their presence known, but never overflowing, ensuring her intentions remained hidden. And her voice, too. It didn’t match her body. It was thick with cunning and her words were melodic, the way they rolled off her tongue and danced through the air, filling the empty house and ricocheting off the walls. Her physique was that of a little girl, but her actions contradicted it. From her mannerisms to her clever words and confident tone of voice, she could have passed as older than me. I was so deep in thought that I jumped at her voice when she spoke again.

“Come. Dinner is ready. We will discuss the rules for your stay while we eat.” She led me back down the hall into a brightly lit kitchen, with one small table on which sat a steaming chicken pot pie and a glass pitcher of milk. Two place settings were already laid out. How could that be, when she hadn’t been into the kitchen since I arrived? She wouldn’t have known I was coming, she can’t have had any time to prepare. Perhaps she was expecting someone else? These questions lingered in the back of my mind as she gestured for me to sit down.

She poured me a glass of milk and dished me some pie. We both began to eat, in silence at first. The pangs of hunger in my stomach were suppressed with every bite. After a few minutes, she began to speak.

“I will tell you the rules now,” she said, matter-of-factly. Rules? What rules? What was I to do that required rules? “You may stay here tonight. There is a bed made for you, in the room upstairs. At exactly nine o’clock, you will close the door to the room and it shall remain closed until sunrise. Do not open the door until the sun has risen. You are not to leave the room until this time. This is the most important rule. The second rule is not to go anywhere or do anything without consulting me. When dawn breaks, gather your things, and come downstairs. I will await you here. Do not go anywhere else. And lastly, do not look for too long at the photographs on the walls, do not touch them either. Oh, and do not question any of these rules. I will hear nothing but compliance. Is this understood?” I nodded aggressively. I was startled by her assertiveness, by her forthrightness. This reminded me to ask about her age.

“Of course, I’m a guest here, I’ll respect your wishes. May I ask how old you are?”

Lilith stared at me for a moment before speaking. She seemed almost perplexed, like she had never been asked this before and knew not what it meant.

“Oh yes, my age. That is a good question. I do not know,” she said through her ever-smiling teeth, as if it were perfectly normal to not know your age. Perhaps she was adopted, and didn’t know her birthday? Still, I found this, along with many other things about this girl, to be highly strange. Disregarding it, I helped her clean up dinner, and her “rules” began to seep into my thoughts. The more I thought about them, the more daunting they became. I grew anxious. As if these woods weren’t terrifying enough, I now had a reason to be scared of it. Something must lurk here, something evil. Why else wouldn’t I be allowed to leave my room? And what had Lilith said, about waiting for me here, in the kitchen? Was that implying that she would not sleep at all? My blood pumped in my ears and my heart pounded. Ever since I had entered these woods, something felt off. The feeling had grown more and more powerful the longer I was in this house. The sooner I left here, the better. 

After cleaning the kitchen, Lilith sat down at the table and stared at me blankly. I furrowed my brow as I walked down the hall, passing the photos again. Lilith had told me not to look at them, which only tempted me to do so. Their presence tugged at my gaze, and I found my eyes flicking over to their ominous, blank faces. She had only said not to look at them for too long, she didn’t say I couldn’t look at them at all. So I slowed my pace, and slid my eyes to my left, to the photos, looking away every couple of seconds. Even in the darkness, the pristine metal of their frames gleamed. A candle rested on a table in the corner, its flame dancing and casting shadows over the dimly lit hallway, contributing to the eeriness of the space. The house was quiet except for the faint crackling of the fire in the sitting room. I couldn’t ignore the sensation that something was hidden within those photographs. I stepped closer. I lifted my hand and delicately traced a finger along the swirling arches of the frame’s embellishments, examining the dates carved into them once more. My head lifted to observe the person in the photo I was closest to. A girl, about my age, her eyes crying for help. I pondered the meaning of these photos. Why were they here? Who were these people? Questions flooded my head, pushing away Lilith’s instructions, and I forgot to avert my gaze.

Suddenly, the mouth of the girl began to move, her lips parting ever so slightly as faint whispers drifted into the silence, and her once still eyes sprang to life, brimming with even more vivid fear. I gasped. Lilith heard. I caught one word of what the girl said, before I felt fingers wrap around my wrist, and tug hard, whipping me around. Lilith stood before me, her huge eyes glaring into mine. 

“I told you not to look at them,” she growled, no longer bearing her usual smile. “What did you hear?” she demanded. “What did they say?”

“Nothing,” I lied. “They said nothing, I heard nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But I had heard. And I was afraid, but I didn’t want to let on. Because the one audible word that had escaped the photographed girls lips was an unsettling one. It played over and over in my head, her voice harsh with urgency and fear.

 “Run,” she had said. Run. 

A couple minutes later, I lay awake in my bed, tossing and turning. The wind howled outside, crying out as if in pain, and I sympathized with it. My shades were drawn tightly over the glass, after my encounter with the photographs in the hallway, I wasn’t going to risk it. I shivered. My breath came in short, shallow inhales and exhales as hour after hour slipped by. I closed my eyes. I opened them. Then I closed them again. I couldn’t bring myself to sleep, not in my current state. After what felt like days, I decided it was no use trying, and sat up, the thin mattress creaking beneath me. Lilith had said nothing about being awake, so long as I didn’t leave my room. I reached towards the nightstand beside me and flicked on a lamp. The old bulb cast a dim glow over the room, shadows springing forth with it. I scanned the room in detail, as I didn’t get the chance to when I first entered. I had run upstairs once Lilith caught me, not wanting any more trouble. The more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Why did this little girl have so much authority over me? For all I know, she could be pranking me. I didn’t have to listen to her. While my common sense knew this was true, my gut told me otherwise. When she spoke, I listened intently, her voice commanded me like a teacher’s might. It was hard to believe she was so young. But was she?

I continued to sit on my bed, inspecting my surroundings. That's when something caught my eye. I leaned down to get a closer look. Just barely visible, a couple inches off the ground, was a sentence, inscribed into the wall. Its letters were crude and messy, as if the person carving them was in a rush. It was barely legible, but there was no doubt about what the letters spelled out. My hair stood on end as I read it, and my heart seemed to cease beating. She is not what she seems. 

Growing frantic now, I stood up and began to pace, careful to tread lightly. I ran a trembling hand through my hair as I considered my options. I could leave now, I could flee and get out of this house. If I did so, I could end up lost forever, starving to death, going insane with no escape. I could stay, and hope Lilith would guide me out of here. It seemed I might lose my mind either way, I couldn’t bear this fear, I couldn’t bear feeling something out of place but not being able to put my finger on it. I sunk to the floor, gripping the shabby carpet beneath me for support. But as I dug my nails into the loose threads, I heard the faint noise of paper crumpling in their grasp. Slowly, I lifted the rug from the ground, holding my breath in anticipation. 

A yellowing piece of paper lay on the cold ground, crumpled in the spot I had grabbed it, its edges beginning to tear. I slid it over to me, and brought it close to my eyes so that I could read the writer’s miniscule penmanship in this poor lighting. 

Look in the nightstand drawer, it read. Read the diary. It will tell you everything. I sprang to my feet and eagerly removed the diary from the drawer. I opened it to the first page and began reading, skipping over unimportant entries and passages.

April 24th, 1925

Mama and Papa left today. They said they were going to find someone to help me. They said it is not safe for them here anymore. I do not understand why. I am lonely. Maybe someone will visit soon.

June 13th, 1925

Mama and Papa have not returned. I miss them. I wish someone would visit, so I would not be so lonely all the time. All I do is sit and think of ways to be less lonely. It’s maddening.

June 14th, 1925

Someone did visit today. She is a very nice lady named Wendy. Maybe she will be my new mother. She cooked me dinner and read me a story, but I am scared she will leave. I want her to stay.

June 16th, 1925

I do not sleep anymore. I am never tired, but Wendy seems tired all the time. Wendy says she must leave soon. Does she care at all? She is leaving me, just as Mama and Papa did. I thought about it after she told me, I have a plan. I know how I will get Wendy to stay forever.

June 17th, 1925

Wendy’s picture hangs on the wall. She will not be leaving, not now.

August 23rd, 1925

I am much happier now. There are two new pictures on the wall. It seems the more pictures appear, the more people show up. I do not get lonely often anymore.

My hand rose to my mouth, stifling a scream, and I flipped to the very last page, the most recent entries. I prayed these words weren’t implying what I thought they were.

May 30th, 1999

Today’s visitor was rather troublesome. She screamed when she saw the pictures. She tried to take me from this house. She said I had the devil in me. Maybe I do. It does not matter, she cannot leave now. Her picture cries when I look at it.

June 29th, 1999

Mama and Papa still have not returned. I don’t mind, I have my friends to keep me company. 

I closed the tattered diary, shaking uncontrollably. This didn’t make sense. At all. If I ever got out of here, maybe I would be able to find out more about this girl. If she was possessed, or if she was some sort of paranormal entity herself. Right now, I had to leave. My mind was clouded with fear. I stood up, the diary falling to the floor with a thud. The floor beneath me tilted as the room spun and I struggled to maintain my balance. Tears streamed down my face as I bolted down the stairs. Hundreds of eyes watched me stumble through the hallway. I tried not to think about the people those eyes belonged to, what had become of them. I was so deranged, I almost didn’t notice that a new picture frame had appeared along the wall of the hallway. It was out of place amongst the haunted, urgent expressions of the faces, the reason being that it was blank. It wasn’t there before, I was sure of it.

I skidded to a stop, coughing and panting, the taste of salt washing over my tongue as tears continued to fall. I pressed my palms against the wall, steadying myself as I gawked breathlessly at the photographs. Something felt different about them, something I had not realized before. What was it? I wracked my brain, thinking of every minor detail I’d encountered since being here. Though it had been only hours, it felt like lifetimes, the minutes dragging on like a never ending movie. I looked at the people, at their expressions, which seemed to be almost pleading for help. It was when I looked below the faces, at the pristine, exquisite frames that it all came together. Pieces fell together, finishing the puzzle, painting a horrifying picture in my mind. 

June 17th, 1925. The date on the picture frame that hung in the very center of the wall. The date I had read in the diary. June 17th, 1925. Lilith had found a way to make Wendy stay forever. She killed her. What remained of her resided here, in this picture. My breath caught in my throat as I noticed, for the first time, a very shiny quality to not only the frames, but the photos, too. One might describe it as reflective. The panes of glass could have been mistaken for mirrors, I supposed. It dawned on me that I was looking into the faces of death. These photos depicted the people as they had been killed. Murdered. By Lilith. 

I had been avoiding the empty frame, though it hung right in front of me, taunting me, daring me to look. Finally, I forced myself to acknowledge it. On the bottom of the frame, right where it should be, was a date. October 31st, 2023. Today’s date. I stood, with my head bowed, and the tears came heavier, pooling in my collarbone, soaking my filthy shirt. No, I thought. This isn’t happening. This is a dream. I willed myself to wake up, with every ounce of strength in me. But it was to no avail. I knew what was coming. 

I raised my head. Just as I suspected, it was not a blank wall that stared back, but myself, reflected in a mirror. I took in my tear stained face, my disheveled hair and puffy lips. And then, I saw something else.

Two black eyes, camouflaged by the darkness of the hallway, appeared in the mirror beside my reflection. Two perfect rows of teeth spread into a familiar smile. The last thing I saw was my own face, mouth agape in a silent scream, eyes frantically pleading for help, before I felt a stabbing pain in my back. I collapsed to the floor in a pool of my own tears and blood.