Kay had never noticed the house before. It was so conspicuous to her now, tall and ominously looming over everything on the corner of Cedar Street. She had gotten a call from the inhabitant, a woman named Mrs. Atkinson.

Kay had set up her babysitting resume just a day ago in the hopes of making a buck or two, but hadn’t expected any calls this soon into the game. Not that she was complaining.

Mrs. Atkinson explained how she and her husband, Mr. Atkinson, were going out to dinner and needed a sitter to watch their kids. They had a son named Danny who was twelve and a daughter named Sara who was six.

Mrs. Atkinson went on to mention a plentiful amount of pay that Kay just couldn’t say no to, even if it did mean skipping basketball practice that day.

Kay now stood on the pavement beholding the house, pulling out the piece of scrapbook paper she wrote the address on.

To her surprise, it was blank. She blinked at the paper, confused. Hadn’t she written it down while on the phone? Kay checked the rest of her pockets, now panicking.

She smoothed down the crinkles in the paper, swallowing slowly. I must not be getting enough sleep, she told herself. Shoving the paper into her pocket and to the back of her mind, she walked up the dark wood steps of the porch and knocked raptly on the front door.

No response. She stood for a few seconds, starting to doubt this was the right address after all. A sudden, cool whoosh of air passed straight through her body. She shivered. It was a sunny day. No rain, no wind, nothing. So what the hell was that?

She wrapped her arms around her body and knocked again, losing hope that anyone would answer. Abruptly, the door opened.

She almost missed her. A little girl, with pink pigtails and a rosy cherub face looked up at Kay expectantly with orb-like blue eyes.

The girl said nothing, but made a tiny gesture for her to come in and skipped cheerfully down the hall.

Kay reluctantly stepped across the threshold in pursuit of the girl, overly aware of any movement around her. She didn’t know what it was about old houses like these, but they always gave her the eerie feeling of being watched.

The little girl had led her into what she assumed was the living room: an astute oak mantelpiece atop a roaring fireplace, overstuffed arm chairs, charming side tables with flower shaped coasters. A boy who she assumed was twelve year old Danny was sitting by the fire, reading.

Kay assumed the little girl was six year old Sara Mrs. Atkinson described on the phone. Sara plopped herself down onto an ornate old rug in front of the fire and patted the spot next to her. Did she want Kay to sit next to her?

Kay awkwardly lowered herself to the ground and gave a half hearted smile to Sara. She smiled back, her eyes still wide and cloudy.

Kay did not know what to say to these children. Usually it was easy for her to interact with kids, but something about the atmosphere left her uncomfortable.

She looked at Danny expectantly like maybe he could break the ice. Danny just sat still as a statue, eyes locked onto the pages of his book.

“So...um what’s that you’re reading?” Kay asked conversationally.

Danny’s head mechanically surfaced from his book in one stiff motion. “Mommy said not to tell.” He said, his voice sounding robotic and rehearsed.

“Oh-oh that’s...that’s okay.” Kay stumbled clumsily over her words, taken aback by Danny’s odd behavior.

“Danny,” a soft voice trilled from beside her, “it’s okay, Kay is our guest. She can look at the book.” Sara slowly turned her head to Danny and smiled.

“Okay, sister. I suppose so.” Danny stood swiftly and lowered himself on the floor besides Kay and Sara.

The spine crackled as the old book was opened to the first page. A photograph of what Kay assumed was some relative looked back at her. The caption read “R.I.P William”.

“Aw, I’m sorry for your loss,” Kay said, though she doubted that was little consolation. Neither child responded.

The next picture was of someone Kay swore she had seen before. She studied the short girl with blonde hair in the picture. “Wait a minute...that’s my old friend that moved away.” Her eyes traveled to the caption. “R.I.P Caroline”. Kay felt sick to her stomach at this point.

She willed her body to stand up, but she could not move. Something was very, very wrong.

The next page was flipped. A girl was there. Not just a girl. Her. The caption read “R.I.P Kay”.

Sara’s once sweet smile was now bone chilling as she turned to face Kay. “Mommy didn’t want us to tell you but...you’re going stay here. Forever.”