The Dare

Erick never liked dares; his friends always dared him to do things that were just plain dangerous. Things normal people would never think of doing. He had been arrested, almost run over, and put in the hospital because of dares. He climbed into zoo cages, jumped off bridges, streaked through his neighborhood – all on dares, and all because doing the dare was better, at the time, than the torment they would put him through if he didn't.

Tonight, he decided, would be the last night of friendship. Not only were they breaking into a supposedly abandoned house, but it happened to be rumored to be haunted. If there was only one thing that scared Erick it was the possibility that the supernatural was real. The beginning stages of harassment and goading from his so-called friends got him into the house, and continued as a way to coax him into different rooms until they all stood in front of the stairs leading to the basement.

Erick swallowed, but his mouth refused to relieve his dry throat. His pulse raced, and his breathing quickened. He couldn't tear his gaze away from the darkness of the basement. Darkness, the only real thing that scared Erick; they had called him a chicken when he wanted to bring a flashlight. Now, he regretted even agreeing to come with them. Tonight was definitely the last night he was friends with these guys, Erick thought for the second time that night.

"I dare you to spend ten minutes down there by yourself, Erick," Joe laughed, tossing a thumb over his shoulder at the basement.

Sweat built on his palms despite the draining chill that ran down his spine. Erick's eyes widened as he finally tore his gaze away from the black pit before them and turned eyes too white for his own good on his supposed friend. He licked his lips, and pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. Of course, because the only thing he hated more than dares and dark - possibly - haunted houses would be getting dared to be alone in the pitch black basement of a possibly haunted house. "What?" His voice cracked; he licked his lips again. "You're kidding, right?"

"What are you – chicken?" Mark laughed, slapping Erick hard enough on the back to push him slightly off balance. "It's just ten minutes. Don't you have a pair?"

Erick's gaze shifted back to the darkness. The basement, where twenty some odd people supposedly disappeared as part of some ritual to appease a dark spirit – or so the stories said. Ten minutes was a long time to be alone down there, especially for him. "Five minutes," he said before looking at Joe. It took all of his concentration to keep his breathing normal and stay put rather than run.

"Ten – or we tell everyone you pissed yourself and ran out crying." Joe smiled, crossing his arms.

It was hard enough getting dates; Erick didn't need a rumor like that spreading. An icy feeling pierced his stomach and spread through him faster than his heart raced. This was absolutely, irrefutably the last dare he would do, and the last night he was friends with these guys.

"Fine," he mumbled, barely audibly. He took a breath, staring at the darkness. It's just ten minutes, he thought, you can do this. You're braver than those idiots. He shook his hands, rolled his shoulders, and let out a deep breath through his mouth.

Every step moaned as he slowly descended into the basement. Once he heard his shoe on the concrete instead of old wood, he looked back at the top of the stairs. Not even a sliver of the moonlight they used to navigate the house could be seen.

Erick's heart raced faster, nearly choking him. More sweat built on his palms, though he felt like he was filled with ice. Something wasn't right; normal darkness didn't act like that.

A hot breeze hit the back of his neck in steady waves. He froze, his muscles locking up. His heart pounded – attempting to get out of his chest – and it hurt too much to breathe. The stairs hadn't creaked, yet it felt like someone was breathing on his neck.

"This isn't funny, guys..." Erick failed to sound firm as he stuttered. He groped for the edge of the stairs, but found nothing of the railing he had just let go of. "You guys are jerks for having someone wait for me down here. I-I'm not scared!"

Dead silence, save for Erick's shoes shuffling on the ground and his heart pounding in his chest. Nothing to see, nothing to feel where he should have found a railing or even a wall. There was nothing, except fully encompassing darkness.

Erick started breathing again, but began too rapidly. He stepped on something, and it rolled from under his foot. Losing his balance, Erick fell on his ass. What sounded like a stick clattered away from him; his hands braced his fall on another pile of sticks. At least, it felt like sticks, at first.

Feeling around, he discovered something larger and rounder. With no way to see, he picked it up and felt around on it. His breathing quickened more. A cold numbness filled him. It fell from shaking hands, only to land in his lap. A skull, there was no two ways around it.

"Erick..." A voice – female, comforting and gentle – whispered from everywhere and nowhere. The hot breath hit his skin again, moving around him from one side, to his back, to the other.

His panting moved toward quivering. His glasses were slipping down his face again, but his arm refused to move when he wanted to fix them. He closed his eyes, but in such pure darkness it made no difference. Something brushed his arm, and tears built in his eyes. "Stop it, please. I give up, I admit it. I'm scared," he whimpered.

"Good..." The voice whispered from everywhere and nowhere again.

A tear rolled down his cheek, and Erick held his breath. His heart pounded harder in his chest. Sweet, warm breath hit his face. He whimpered again when something small and wet brushed his tear away.

"Erick..." The voice breathed, sounding from everywhere and no where, and the sweet breath hit him in the face again. As his name drifted around his head, something firm - yet insubstantial when his shaking hand moved to touch it - pressed onto his legs. His glasses were removed - the purposeful, gentle tug of someone removing them was unmistakable. Another tear rolled down his cheek, and something wet brushed it away.

"I won't make it hurt," the voice purred. The breath hit his ear and he shivered.

Pain pierced him on both sides of his neck, so sharp a scream caught on his throat. He coughed on it, struggling to breathe as his eyes opened wide. There was nothing to do but stare into the darkness and gag as warmth bubbled in his throat.

"Hey, Erick, you can come up now," Joe shouted at the darkness with a chuckle.

No response.

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances. Joe licked his lips. "Erick, stop fucking around and get up here. It's time to go before we get caught." He sounded angry, but sweat built on his palms, which he kept wiping on his pants to keep anyone else from noticing.

A scream pierced the night, echoing from the basement.

The others scrambled over one another on their way out. Joe hesitated for a moment, only hearing the commotion behind him. The instant he realized the others had left, he ran out of the house too.

The next morning, Joe told his father the story - that Erick had convinced the others to break into the house, and tried to get them to go into the basement. That, when no one else would, he went down there himself; then he mentioned the blood curdling screams.

Joe's father made a few calls. In the light of day, several uniformed officers trekked into the abandoned home. They searched high and low for Erick. When they walked into the basement, they saw the familiar sight of the fading ritual circle and long dried blood stains. A pair of glasses sat dead center in the middle of the circle, neatly folded with just the tiniest splash of dried blood on one lens.