The Haunting of Emily Stone (2 page)

“Are you waiting for something?” he asked finally.

Silence.

“Emily?”

The only sound came from the low buzz of the tape recorder and camcorder.

Robert glanced over at Joyce, and saw that she was staring at Emily. Turning back to look at the little girl, he realized she seemed not to be even blinking.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the words wouldn't come.

Finally, slowly, Emily tilted her head a little, while keeping her eyes fixed on him.

“Emily -”

Suddenly, Emily slammed her head down against the table, with enough force to jolt the tape recorder and make Robert sit back in shock.

“This is it,” Joyce said, swallowing hard.

“Is she okay?” Robert asked. “Are you sure she didn't knock herself out?”

Slowly, Emily began to sit up again, and this time the change in her eyes was unmistakeable: they were darker, much darker than before, and her frown had become a scowl, as if she hated the sight of him.

“I've seen you before,” she said suddenly, her voice sounding much deeper, far too deep for a child to be able to manage. “I recognize your ugly face.”

“Am I speaking to Drella now?” he asked, trying to stay calm.

“You were in Leicester,” the voice continued, as if it was speaking through Emily's mouth but not coming from her directly. “You were talking to the Abbingdon girl.”

“I...” He paused. “You mean Lily Abbingdon?” Another pause. “Lily Abbingdon was a girl who claimed to be possessed. I never -”

“Lily Abbingdon was no good to me. I had to climb higher, until I reached this girl.”

“You had to climb?” he asked. “What exactly does that -”

“What do you want from me, cocksucker?”

“I want...” Reaching out, he slid the tape recorder slightly closer to her, to make sure that he got the whole thing on tape. “I'm a researcher, I investigate claims of paranormal activity. I want proof.”

“That I exist?”

“What are you?”

Emily continued to stare at him for a moment, before slowly her mouth widened into a broad smile.

“I want to find a way out of here.”

“Is... Is your name Drella?”

“I have ten thousand names. Don't you understand that yet, you fucking piece of shit?”

“What do you want with Emily Stone?”

“Want with her?” The voice seemed even more distorted now, and louder too, as if it was slowly forcing itself up through the little girl's throat. “I want a body. I want to experience flesh again. I want to get out of this awful place. She's my best option right now”

“Why don't you have a body of your own?”

“Someone took it from me,” she continued. “A long time ago, a man cut my throat in a dark alley and left me bleeding. I was young, it wasn't my time. I want to come back and experience life again.”

There was a pause, before slowly Emily began to laugh. The laugh clearly wasn't hers, however; it was the same distorted, mocking voice that seemed to be inhabiting her body. A moment later, she started coughing, almost as if she was choking, before finally smiling again.

“Why Emily?” he continued. “Why did you choose her? Out of all the -”

Before he could finish, there was a crashing sound nearby. Turning, he saw that a vase had fallen from the coffee table over by the window, shattering against the floorboards. Above, the light started to flicker.

“I wait in darkness,” the voice said after a moment.

He turned back to look at her.

“Each human being is a door out of that darkness,” she continued, still grinning at him. “I choose the doors that will be easiest for me to pass through. I thought you were an intelligent man, Doctor Slocombe. I thought you'd have worked all of this out already, but clearly you're just another fucking idiot who thinks he can dabble in things he doesn't understand.”

“I'm trying,” he replied, “I just -”

“You're full of shit,” she added, as her smile widened. “Even if I tell you my real name, you won't be able to do anything with the information. You're far too dumb.”

“What
is
your real name?”

She stared at him for a moment, and then finally her lips moved without making a sound.

“What was that?” he asked.

“My real name,” she continued, her voice sounding more distorted than ever, “can only be whispered while I'm in this body. To say it out loud would be to burn this little bitch to ashes. Is that what you want?”

“No-one's going to burn anyone,” he replied, “we just -”

“Come closer,” she told him. “Put your ear to my lips, and I will whisper my name as loudly as I dare. Then, finally, you'll start to understand why I have to get out of this place.”

He paused for a moment. “Perhaps you can... write it down?”

“What are you scared of?” she asked. “Look at me. I'm in the body of a child. If I really wanted to hurt you right now, don't you think I'd have done it already?”

After glancing at the camera for a moment, Robert finally got to his feet. The legs of the chair scraped loudly against the wooden floor as he pushed it aside, and then he made his way cautiously around the table.

As she looked up at him, Emily continued to smile.

“Come closer,” she growled. “Hear my name, if you dare.”

Slowly, he knelt next to her.

“You're braver than most people,” she told him. “I should warn you, though. Just as my name might cause this little whore to burn, so too might it tear through your mind and leave you dying on the floor.” She paused. “Are you sure you want to know? There's no going back after that point.”

He paused for a moment, before finally nodding.

“Then lean closer,” she continued. “Hear my name.”

Slowly, he turned the side of his face toward her and leaned closer, until he could feel her breath on his ear.

“Are you ready?” she whispered.

“I'm ready.”

“Very well.” Another pause. “My name is -”

Chapter Two

Today

“Fuck you, then!” he shouted, raising his empty beer bottle to the moon, and almost toppling over backwards in the process.

In the distance, loud music was thumping from the halls of residence.

“I'm a professor,” he muttered, stumbling forward before falling against the bins and just about managing to stay upright. “I'm a... pro... fessor... I... profess...” He grinned. “I profess my love to you.”

He paused, swaying slightly as he contemplated his next move. For a moment, he laid the side of his face against the top of the bin, figuring he'd just rest for a few seconds.

It wasn't long before he started to snore.

Chapter Three

Twenty-four years ago

“And then she threw up,” he explained, holding the receiver against the side of his face as he sat in the cramped living room. With a towel in his spare hand, he continued to wipe his chin. “Just the foulest, thickest, blackest liquid you can imagine. Not a great deal of it, but I managed to get a sample. The noise was pretty horrific too. Emily Stone definitely has quite a pair of lungs.”

“She threw up
on
you?” Douglas asked, on the other end of the line.

“On me.” He stuck a piece of tissue in his ear and wiggled it about. “And slightly in me.”

“Nice.”

Hearing a faint creak above, Robert looked up at the ceiling for a moment. He could hear Joyce and Emily talking upstairs in the little girl's bedroom, although he couldn't make out what they were saying. Joyce had hurried Emily up there almost immediately after the vomiting incident.

“And you got all this on tape?” Douglas asked. “Are you sure?”

“I've only watched a small part of it back,” he continued, “but... Yeah. I really think, this time, I've managed to catch the whole thing.” He paused for a moment, and even though he knew it was too early to celebrate, he couldn't shake the slow, creeping feeling that all his years of work had finally paid off. “People always laugh at me when I say I'll prove this stuff is real, but I swear, this time...”

“This time?”

“This time I think we've done it,” he continued, with a faint smile. “I think we've got proof. When I get this stuff back to the university and you and Jenna take a look, your eyes are going to pop out on stalks. It's the most remarkable thing.”

“And you're sure?”

“There's no way a twelve-year-old girl could make that voice come out of her mouth,” he replied. “It's just... When you see the recording, you'll realize that it's not physically possible. And there are so many other things, like items falling from shelves, plus the photos... I still don't know exactly what's going on here, Doug, but something – whether it's a ghost, a demon –
something
is tormenting Emily Stone and trying to take possession of her body. We just have to work out what it is, and what it wants, and then we have to try to help Emily while also taking advantage of this opportunity to push the boundaries of our understanding.”

He waited for an answer.

“Doug?”

“You realize what it means if you're right, don't you? The implications for humanity if you've got proof that this thing, whatever it is, is actually real. We've dreamed of something like this, but to be honest I think I never expected it to actually happen.”

“That's why I've been working so carefully and slowly,” he continued. “I don't want to make the same mistakes again, but I can feel it, Doug, I'm on the verge of proving the whole goddamn thing. Emily Stone is going to be the first human in history who can be proved to have some kind of spirit creature infesting her body. We're going to be able to investigate this kind of thing with proper funding. We'll go from laughing stocks to pioneers in the blink of an eye.”

“So what was the name?” Douglas asked. “You said the demon, or whatever it is, was about to tell you its real name.”

“I don't know,” he replied. “After she threw up, she got too upset and we had to stop the whole thing. There's time to get into that, though. Now we know we're on the right path, we can afford to do this properly and schedule all the necessary interviews and tests. She's just a kid, Doug, and she's already been through so much. The last thing I want to do is rush and end up burning her out.”

“And you're really sure?” Douglas continued. “It's just so hard to believe.”

“I've never been so certain of anything in my life. This is real. We've finally got proof that these things exist. Do you realize what this could mean for humanity?”

Chapter Four

Today

“Doctor Slocombe, is that you?”

Opening his eyes, he saw that someone was standing nearby in the darkness, shining a torch at him. “Is that a ghost?” he whispered with a smile.

“Doctor Slocombe,” the campus patrolman continued with a sigh as he stepped closer, “you should go home. You don't really want another heavy night, do you?”

“Hey, Carl,” he replied, with his face still resting against the top of the bin, “I'm just... taking a pause.”

“It's two in the morning, Doctor Slocombe.”

“I'm aware of that, Carl.”

“And you're drunk.”

“I resent your implication.”

“Don't make me call this in.”

“What's wrong? Are you going to get some -” He hiccuped. “Are you going to get some
real
policemen to come and cart me off to the cells, just for being a little beer-filled?”

“Doctor Slocombe, I can't leave you here like this.”

“I'm just resting,” he muttered, closing his eyes. “Don't get your knickers in a twist over me. Or your knockers.” He grinned. “Don't get your knockers up your knacker, Carl. Hey, why
aren't
you a real policeman, anyway? What's wrong with you, why do you just work campus security?”

“You have to go home, Doctor Slocombe. Right now.”

Forcing himself up, Robert took a moment to gather his balance. The whole campus seemed to be spinning around him, and it took a few seconds before he was able to focus on Carl.

“Alright,” he slurred, stumbling down the steps, “you can keep your knickers in your knacker-yard with your knockers. I'm off. Goodnight, officer.”

“Don't let me find you in this state again, Doctor Slocombe.”

Raising his right hand, Robert kept walking, making his way straight across the grass as he headed home.

Chapter Five

Twenty-four years ago

“Emily Stone,” he said proudly, as he stood on a stage at the front of the conference hall and pointed up at a photo that had been projected onto the main screen. “Twelve years old, an only child living with her mother in Coltreath in the north of England. Emily is a sweet, friendly girl most of the time, but today I'm going to offer cast-iron proof that she has been possessed by the spirit of an entity that she calls Drella.”

A murmur rose from the crowd as Robert tapped the clicker in his hand, bringing up a second image, this time showing Emily being thrown across her bedroom.

Chairs creaked in the hall as people leaned forward to get a better look.

“At this stage,” he continued, “I don't know exactly what Drella is. The case has elements of classic poltergeist reports, but also certain traits that hint at a form of demonic possession. I hope to categorize Emily's situation more fully in the near future.”

He clicked through to another image, which this time showed Emily screaming at the camera with tears running down her face.

“I first encountered Emily when I read the stories about her in a local newspaper. Her mother was seeking help to deal with what seemed like a fairly normal poltergeist case. As paranormal researchers, we all know that this kind of case isn't that rare. They crop up once or twice a year and, let's be honest, they're almost always hoaxes. What struck me with Emily, however, was the sheer forcefulness of the evidence. Right from the start, when I first spoke to Joyce Stone about her daughter's experiences, I realized that there was a strong chance of capturing these events on tape. And so it proved. Lights, please.”

As a technician turned down the lights in the room, Robert switched the projector feed and began to load a video. A grainy, black-and-white image appeared on the screen, showing Emily sitting alone on her bed, with her knees drawn up to her chin as if she was afraid of something.

“This video was recorded on December 28
th
of last year,” Robert explained. “It was recorded by Mrs. Stone using a basic camcorder borrowed from a neighbor, and it shows Emily talking to the entity in the middle of the night. I want you to pay particularly close attention to the different tonalities in the two voices you're about to hear.”

He turned and looked up at the video, where Emily was still in position, staring at the corner of the room.

“What do you want from me?” she could be heard whimpering. “Why won't you just go away?”

Silence, except for the buzz from the camera.

“Please leave me alone,” she continued, starting to sob. “You're scaring me.”

“Do you think I care?” another voice hissed suddenly, sounding darker and more guttural. It was coming from Emily's mouth, although her lips were moving in a strange, unnatural manner that didn't seem to fit the words at all. “Why would I give a shit about you being scared?”

“I just want to go to sleep.”

“Fuck you,” the voice continued. “You're mine now, Emily, and when the time is right I'm going to use you as my new body.”

From the audience, there was a faint gasp, although one or two people seemed to be amused by the footage.

“Please, Drella,” Emily whimpered, “just go away. I'm scared!”

“You're scared now?” the voice replied. “Wait until I'm finished with you, you goddamn little bitch! You're mine, Emily, and I can do whatever I want to you, whenever I want. The more you sob and cry, the more I'm going to enjoy hurting you, and there's nothing anyone can do to save you! You belong to me!”

“No!” Emily shouted, suddenly getting to her feet and running out of the room, shouting for her mother.

Stopping the video, Robert brought up another photo, this time showing Emily screaming in her bedroom.

“I'll be making the full video and all other media files available to all of you,” he explained, turning to the audience, “so that you can investigate them fully, but I've spent the past six months going over them frame by frame, and I can assure you, they're completely genuine. The voice alone should be enough to convince you, I've had it analyzed by five different labs and they all say the same thing, which is that the vocal chords of a girl Emily's age would not be able to produce something like that. It would be physically impossible, and I've experienced that voice myself, in the room with Emily.”

“What about the mother's involvement?” asked a member of the audience.

“It's always the mother,” added someone else.

“How much does she want?” asked another.

“There's no indication that Joyce Stone is seeking to monetize her daughter's experience,” Robert replied. “Well, not to any great extent. She's been talking to a few national newspapers, and I'm sure they'll offer her something, but I think her primary motivation is just to get some help for her daughter.”

“It's a hoax,” said another voice from the back of the room. “They always turn out to be hoaxes in the end.”

“She's cutting deals with Fleet Street,” suggested someone near the front. “This is like all the other cases over the years. It's a stunt to case in on the public's gullibility.”

“The mother has been very active in seeking help since this began,” Robert explained. “Joyce Stone has cooperated fully, and I truly believe she has Emily's best interests at heart. She's desperately worried about her daughter, as any mother would be in this situation. She wants Emily's story to reach the world so that maybe we can help her. I agree that this is the best approach. We have to remember that this isn't just proving beyond doubt that entities such as Drella exist.” He looked back up at the image of Emily's terrified face. “It's also about helping a scared little girl.”

“Lining the pockets of the mother, more like,” muttered a voice from the crowd.

“You're wrong,” Robert replied, turning to him. “You're wrong, and I'm going to prove it.”