Excerpt: Hollow

Nicholas cleared his throat, signaling a final silence from the others. "Now then" he began again, "we are gathered here to contact the spirit of Catherine. She left us unexpectedly and those are there who wish to speak with her one last time."

Everyone who had their eyes closed opened them. There was silence from all, the servants had stopped moving and stood by the door ready for anything. Both had been through a number of séances themselves with the Wilbur’s and so were not really expecting anything they'd not witnessed before. Hen couldn't keep the excitement from spilling out from her, across the table Miller pursed his lips then lightly kicked her under the table. Hen's eyes went big, her head looking directly down as the thought that an unhappy spirit was already there and trying to contact her. Her lips parted as she realized her childish like attitude, straightening her back she stopped and bit her lip.

"Catherine, Catherine Billings. I call to you. I bid you come to us. Catherine, come and speak with us. You have been called thrice and are so bound to speak with us.
Catherine, give us a sign that you are with us." Nicholas' voice was strong, commanding. Each person in the room held their eyes on him, waiting and feeling as if they were the ones being commanded.

"Catherine!" Nicholas called out again. This time his voice rose above its normal soft tenor. Harriet jumped, her grip on Miller's hand tightening.

For a moment all went silent. Even the sound of each person's breath was cut away. No one moved, not a blink of any eye. Then a knock. One loud sharp knock against the far wall. The sound echoed throughout the room, like a thunder that demanded that all hear and know it's strength.

"Oh holy God!" Susan jumped, her head turning toward the sound. "Is it Catherine? Is it my Catherine?"

"Hush!" John hissed out to her. His eyes were narrowed, a line etched in his brow as he listened. A fear coursed through his heart as he feared that perhaps his wife's voice would frighten away their daughter.

Nicholas cleared this throat again. The room had gone silent once more and the sound directed attention back to him. He blinked then spoke. "Is this Catherine Billings? Knock once for No, and twice for Yes."

Everyone held their breath. Eyes darted around the room, the anxiety so thick that it could be cut with a knife. Tears were already welling up in Susan's eyes as she leaned forward, her heart on her sleeve. The word "Catherine" on her lips though she refused to speak it.

A knock pounded its way into the room. Everyone jumped this time, even Nicholas. Grips tightened and the room it's self took on a feeling that it was waiting for something. And it was. It was clear that the someone was there, someone not sitting at the table and someone beyond the two servants who looked ready to bolt. All of this had happened before. The knocking, the feeling of not being alone. But everyone, even those new the experience knew that this wasn’t right and that is was only going to get worse.

And then came the second knock. Loud. So loud. Each person in the room felt as if the knock had come from within them. A deafening sound like one ripping their hearts from their chests. Susan whimpered slightly, looking as if she were going to run from her chair. But her hands were gripped from both sides, keeping her from leaving and breaking the protective circle they’d all formed with their hands. John swallowed loudly, his breathing and heart rate suddenly racing.

“Catherine. Welcome.” Nicholas spoke the words, but they sounded strange. He did not welcome this spirit, not as he’d welcomed spirits in the past. This one was different. This was not the spirit of a girl who died with a happy heart. There was anger in the air, malice and hatred. The air had gone cold and each person seated at the table could see their breath coming out in small, quick, streams of smoke. The two servants moved to stand closer together, their hands dropping to hold, whispers of prayer on their lips.

The wind picked up in the room, though there were no windows opened. The heavy drapes danced, looking as if a child held the bottom of the weighty cloth and shook them. Moisture seemed to penetrate the air around them, making each person feel wet like they’d been out in the rain. The tears that had been waiting in Susan’s eyes now began to fall without holding back.

In her seat, Henrietta who’d been watching each aspect of the séance like a child watching a puppet show, suddenly sat up her eyes going to the back of her head and a deep shiver running through her entire body. “Not welcome.”