Short Thriller Stories

7. The Haunting of Blackwater Manor

An enormous mansion stood on the edge of Ravenbrook. It was surrounded by urban legends and was the ghost story for the people of Ravenbrook. The mansion was notoriously known for its mysterious disappearances and ghostly apparitions. Most people didn’t believe the stories surrounding Blackwater Manor. To them, it was all just folklore. A perfect story for dinner talk on Halloween night. Blackwater Manor was encircled by a lake with murky water that looked almost black, which is what gave Blackwater Manor its name. But the story of Blackwater Manor was one that would haunt people to this day.

On October 30, 1832, at the age of seventeen, Claire Winchester killed her parents and hung her sister, Isabella. She then went out to the lake and tossed the knife out into the water. When questioned about the murders, she denied it. No one knows why Claire did what she did. All they know is that she went back into the house and hung herself from the chandelier that same night. Rumor has it that their ghosts still haunt Blackwater Manor. People go there every year on Halloween, mainly to debunk the rumors, but they’re never seen or heard from again.

Emory Ashland wasn’t one to believe rumors. She never believed the stories they told or even wondered if they were true. But as she entered Blackwater Manor and saw the dark brown rusted walls and the old typewriter, surrounded by candles, Emory started to think that just maybe, the legends were true. Blackwater Manor was a huge Victorian estate, passed down through hundreds of years and located in the Dark Ash Woods.

Emory wandered deeper into the Manor and stopped in front of a large room. There was no door, but in its place, there was a hatch. She pulled the handle and went down the creaky wooden staircase. She was in awe. Emory had never seen a place like this. At least, not in real life. The room was filled with miscellaneous items like weapons that hung from the wall and candles that lit up the room. In the center was a chandelier. The same chandelier that Claire had hung herself from. The walls were lined with portraits from the different families that had lived there over the years. But as she went up the stairs, one in particular caught her eye. It was a painting of the Winchesters.

A gust of wind flew through the mansion and Emory had chills. She went up the stairs, each step creaking more than the next. She finally got to the top of the mansion, and the first thing she noticed was how eerie the attic looked. The walls were peeled, the telephone cord hung off of the wall and it was nothing like the elegant downstairs of the mansion. There was an old bookshelf at the very back, along with antique clocks and vintage polaroids lying around. Emory went out into the main room and that was when she saw the portraits again. Except this time, there was something…off about them. They were all separated. As if they were divided. As if they were too broken to fix. Madeline and Edward Winchester were on one wall, Isabella right next to them, and Claire all by herself on the wall across from them. From the looks of it, they favored Isabella and barely acknowledged Claire. Or something more sinister.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her. Emory turned around with a gasp and another gush of wind rushed through the room. The grandfather clock started chiming and she heard a faint, child-like voice whispering her name. “Emory.” She whipped her head around, staring at the portraits once again, and that’s when she noticed it. Or rather, noticed her. A little girl standing in front of Claire Winchester’s portrait, dressed in white. Her eyes were as silver as the moon and her hair was the darkest shade of black there ever was. The little girl held her hand out to Emory. “Follow me…” she said. Emory took the girl’s hand, barely processing anything. Who was this girl? And how did she know Emory?
The little girl led her down another set of grand stairs down into the basement area. They stopped in front of a big wooden door and the girl turned to look at Emory. The door suddenly opened on its hinges and creaked loudly. Emory and the girl entered the room. The walls were bland and had more weapons. But this time there were cuffs and chains, along with a deer head propped up against the wall. She turned back to the girl, but she was gone. Disappeared. All that was left of her was a white plume of smoke.