Ummm... I have no idea how this is going to end... just had this image in my head all day...

"Ugh, I can't believe we agreed to do this."

"You agreed to do this," I said to my discusted twin, "Ihad no say in the matter."

"Still..." Jamie trailed off, but she didn't need to finish. I knew. I always knew.

I'm Leslie. My parents knew they were having twins but decided they didn't want to know what gender they were. They gave us neutral names, which I hate. Too ordinary.

"Hey, Les! Did you die up there or something?"

That's Clara, my best friend. She has a beautiful, unique name. Much better than mine.

She stomped up the stairs, followed by Brian, Jamie's boyfriend. Go figure, I bring my best friend, Jamie brings her boyfriend. She always was the more popular twin. I guess it's fitting that she got a boyfriend before I did.

"Remind me why we're here again?" Clara asked.

"Jamie bet Stacy $50 that she could spend the night in this haunted house, but was too chicken-" I paused and dug my elbow into her ribs- "to do it herself, so she invited me and Brian, and because you didn't want me to suffer alone with them, you came."

"Right," affirmed Clara, "I'm one hell of a friend."

"Yes." I agreed. Brian and Jamie were at the mushy phase in their relationship. Yuck.

"Let's find a place to crash for the night." I sighed, because clearly Jamie, wrapped in Brian's embrace, wasn't going to move this along. Like I wanted to be in this creepy place to begin with.

In the end we all stayed in the big living room. Jamie and Brian were cuddled up on the rug by the fireplace (we considered lighting a fire but decided not to) exchanging I-love-yous, and Clara and I were watching a movie on the ipod she brought along. All was going well until a loud, long scream sounded from the next room.

"What the fu-" My words were drowned out by an angry snarl.

"You BITCH!" Cried a man's voice.

"Please, please," a woman's voice sobbed, don't-"

"How DARE YOU!"

"I-I didn't mean anything by it," the woman continued, "You know I would never-"

"Explain THESE, then!" The voice thundered, "Thay say, "To my dearest Clara." The last words were said in a mocking tone, and I felt shock at hearing my friend's name. I turned to her, and her eyes were wide and fearful.

"I don't know, I don't know," the woman babbled, "You know me, you know-" There was a wierd, slicing noise, followed by another scream that faded away slowly.

We had all subcontiously gathered around the door that this was happening behind, and now blood began to seep out from underneath. It puddled around our feet and stained my sneakers red.

Clara made an odd choking noise. I turned to her, started, and saw she was holding back laughter.

"Clara, what-" she heldup a hand to silence me. Grasped in her other hand was a bouquet of roses that definatly weren't there a minute ago. A small tag was on them, in blood red letters. To my dearest Clara.

"You're so gullible, it's amazing." she gasped between laughs, "Right from the start. Thinking that I was your friend? Hell, thinking that I was alive?"

My breath was coming in short pants now. Slowly, Clara reached her hand into the bouquet, and pulled out a knife. She grinned evilly and slashed it at me.

I felt it brush the skin of my neck, and then all I felt was pain. Red clouded my vision. Dimly, I heard sobbing... then nothing...

The next day, a newspaper reported that a most evil crime had been committed. Two girls and one boy were murdered in an old haunted house. The girls were twins, apparently. Thier parents refused to confirm.

Another girl who went to school with them claimed that a third girl had went with them, a girl named Clara Walker. But there was no Clara Walker in the school database. In fact, it appeared no one but this solitary girl had even heard of Clara Walker. She's being helped now, in a big white room where she's not a threat.

Many children reported that while one of the twins was outgoing and had been dating the murdered boy, the other had been strange, and had often been seen talking to herself, or to thin air.

Ironically enough, a killing had taken place in that house, and the murdered's name was Clara Walker. Ironic, but the police department doesn't believe in ghosts.

Neither do you, do you? I'm sure you don't. In fact, I'd bet you're brave enough to walk right up to that old, crumblilng house in your neighborhood. I'd bet you could spend the whole night there... maybe even longer...

Just to let you know, I have nothing at all against the name Leslie. Review, please? Oh, and please look at my profile I'm sharing with my friend? The link's on my profile, and our story needs some love...