January 2022

On a field trip to an old spooky castle, Lola meets a mysterious girl The castle loomed large and ominous above me. I heard the tour guide blabber on about some people who had died inside the castle, probably trying to make it appear scarier than it was—something about ghosts and people hearing screams when no one was there. I wasn’t scared; I just didn’t want to be there. All I wanted to do was go home and be with my cat, the only being I felt I could trust. A feeling of loneliness washed over me as I watched the girls in the class huddling up and whispering about how creepy the castle was. The way the girls all had their secrets reminded me of my old best friend, Olivia. We used to be like that, always sharing inside jokes. When we were in fifth grade we began drifting apart, but honestly, she started drifting away. Every time I wanted to hang out with her, she would push me aside. She stopped inviting me over, stopped calling me, and before I knew it, we weren’t even eating lunch together. After that, I felt completely alone. By then everyone else had already formed cliques. The tour guide showed us through the door. As soon as we walked in, I noticed how dim the castle was. Engraved details covered the walls. I watched a mouse scurry from one hole in the wall to another. There were so many different passageways. The group paused to look at a painting of another one of those old rich guys from the 1800s. “Arthur Livingstone.” He was the master of the castle, and he had been the seventh-most wealthy man in America at the time, the tour guide explained. I didn’t care. My eyes wandered, looking for anything more interesting than this. It was then that I noticed a dark passageway with a black piece of tape blocking off the entrance, and a sign saying DO NOT ENTER. Do you know that feeling when you are being drawn toward something even though you know it’s wrong and every bone in your body is telling you not to do it, yet the pull feels stronger than you? That’s what I was feeling right then. The doorway grabbed my attention and pulled me in, just like a spider grabs its prey. I couldn’t look away. I stood there awkwardly staring at the hallway. I should stop now, I told myself. Just turn around and go back to the class. But my feet kept walking. One of the girls came up to me. “Staring off into space again?” She turned around and whispered to her friend, but loud enough so that I could hear: “Super weird.” I had to get away. I hated this tour. The hallway seemed inviting, like a kind of escape. Plus, it wasn’t like anyone would notice I was gone. I wondered why it was closed off: was it just under repairs, or had something bad happened down there? It might sound weird, but in some ways I identified with the passage, separated from the rest of the castle, all alone. Doorways lined the dark and dusty hallway. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, almost concealed by the carvings. Before I knew it, I felt surrounded, trapped. Did I hear footsteps behind me? Was someone there? I turned my head to make sure no one was following me. I took a deep breath and kept walking. The hallway was becoming more ominous. I felt the urge to scream to hear my echo, but I didn’t. Shivers ran down my spine as I made my way through the darkness. I should stop now, I told myself. Just turn around and go back to the class. But my feet kept walking. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was scared, but I noticed I was shaking. It felt almost as though I was at war with myself and being pulled in two different directions. Part of me wanted to turn around and go back to the tour, but the other part of me wanted to keep going. I wondered what this passage led to, and what it had been used for back in the day. I imagined a servant girl walking through here holding a duster and stopping at one of the bookcases nailed to the wall to dust off shelves. This hallway reminded me of when I was little and my family would drive through a tunnel. I would feel that the tunnel went on forever. I would ask my parents over and over how much longer, but they would brush off the questions and tell me we were almost there. That’s what this passage felt like, except no one was there to assure me that everything was going to be okay. Looking ahead, a door caught my eye; it seemed to be glowing. I fastened my eyes shut and reminded myself that it was just a door. When I opened my eyes it still seemed to be glowing. Was I going crazy? I walked toward it and noticed the dark-brown wood. It was curved at the top and covered with an immense amount of detail, swirls upon swirls tumbling on top of each other and making it hard to focus on one part; the swirls were intertwined, resembling vines or knots of messy hair strewn together. I wondered what was behind the door. Did it lead somewhere else? I imagined walking inside. Maybe I would find some stairs that led to a series of underground tunnels? Walking away seemed out of the question—I had to take one quick look. It was different from the other doors: more intricate, more menacing. I was fascinated. My eyes searched for a doorknob. Instead, there was an old-fashioned door knocker. Every creak of the door made me flinch. My stomach was in knots. As I pulled open the door, I took a step back and realized