Ariana's Alarming Apparition

Ariana’s small shivers, which had begun as a reaction to the unnerving creak of a poop k, a place that even in broad daylight felt like it held its breath. “I saw her,” she whispered, her voice barely a thread of sound. “I’m sure of it. I saw Aunt Carol.” In. Meah, who had been trying to coax a reluctant floorboard back into submission with a stern glare, spun around. “Saw her? Are you sure, Ari? It’s probably just the light playing tricks.” Meah’s voice was gentle, but a familiar knot of anxiety began to tighten in her stomach. Ariana’s ‘tricks of the light’ had a habit of morphing into full-blown family crises.

“No, I *saw* her!” Ariana insisted, a fresh wave of panic washing over her. Her lower lip quivered. “She was a shadow, just a flicker, but it was definitely her. She went that way.” She pointed a trembling finger down the dim, dust-mote-filled corridor.

Louie, who had been attempting to balance a teetering stack of antique hatboxes on his head, let out a whoop of excitement. The hatboxes promptly cascaded around him, landing with soft thuds on the Persian rug. “Aunt Carol! She’s making a run for it! This is it, guys, the real chase is on!” He scrambled to his feet, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt. “She’s probably trying to escape whatever she’s gotten herself into, or maybe she’s hiding from us!”