We’re thrilled and honoured to announce that Hometown Haunts: #LoveOzYA Horror Tales, edited by Poppy Nwosu, has been shortlisted for the 2022 Small Press Network Book of the Year Award (formerly the Most Underrated Book Award).

The anthology – the first #LoveOzYA collection to focus entirely on horror – unites a stellar cast of Australia’s finest YA authors with talented new and emerging voices, including two graphic artists.

Earlier this year, we were proud to announce that contributing author Lisa Fuller had won both the Best Young Adult Short Story and the Best Horror Short Story in the 2021 Aurealis Awards, an award that acknowledges excellence in speculative, horror and sci-fi fiction.

To celebrate the shortlisting, and Lisa’s wins, we’re pleased to share her excellent story ‘Don’t Look’ here on the blog.

Don’t Look!

I shove my face against the window frame, letting the breeze brush over me. Wishing it was cool. No relief is coming. Not even after the sun goes down. Mid-summer afternoons in our rural hometown are my worst nightmare. We only rolled into town an hour ago and I already want to escape.

Sweat dribbles into my eyes and I blink them open, staring out at the bleached brown land. Small puffs of air churn the dirt. The odd willy-willy stirs the dust and dead bark and leaves from shedding trees. I feel like I’m melting into my chair. My sweat soaking into the couch does nothing to soften its prickly texture.

Mum and the aunties sit around the kitchen table. Catching up on all the latest gossip. I don’t know where they find the energy.

We haven’t been home in almost a year, not since Nick. The platitudes from all the mob had finally stopped after I’d walked over here. If one more person told me he would ‘always be with me’, I’d scream. He wasn’t with me. That was the fucking point.

‘Whatchu lookin at?’ My cousin Candy plonks down beside me, saving me from my own thoughts and rising tears. Somehow she looks fresh, not like a sweaty turd. We’re the same age, but she’s always seemed more than me. More intelligent, good-looking, kind, everything. Just more. I’d hate her if I didn’t love her so much.

‘Nuthin. Whatchu doin?’ My accent shifts when I’m home. My attitude, my body language. Mob way, Mum says. Proper way, Dad adds.

‘Gotta babysit the kids tanight, wanna come help?’ I hesitate. Her little sister Katie turned eight last week and will be easy to care for, but their brother Tyrone is only just toddling. That means dirty nappies and the ability to run away and get into anything and everything.

‘Who’s watchin em now?’ I look over at her mum, Aunty Trina, and I know Uncle Rick is out the back with the men.

‘Grams got em, but Mum wants er ere to yarn too.’ She shifts into sad-eyes mode. ‘Please cuz, I don’t wanna be alone. Mum promised me takeaway and that I can rent some movies. I’ll let ya pick.’
‘Fine, ya big con artist,’ I chuckle.
With a grin that shows both her dimples, she winks. ‘Good, we can catch up too.’

‘Ya ready niece?’ Uncle Warren calls from the back door.
Candy hops up, waving me to follow. ‘Aunty, Raina’s comin with me.’
Mum looks over and frowns. ‘Where?’
‘Babysittin the kids so you fullas can ave a drink.’

I hold my breath. Hoping to get some space at last. Mum looks to Aunty Trina, who’s digging in her purse, before pulling out some notes and handing them to her daughter. ‘Gorn then, but no goin out anywhere else.’

I roll my eyes, turning to hide my slow breath out. Candy just laughs again. ‘Course not Aunty, we’re good girls.’

The women at the table scoff as we pass on our way out the back. We walk through the men clustered in the shade of the old water tank, and Dad gives me a shout. Candy sweet-talks him and we climb into Uncle’s old dual-cab. I notice a hunched figure sitting to the side, arms folded and glaring at everyone.

‘What’s with Gramps? How come e’s not up with Grams?’ You normally never saw the one without the other.
I can see Candy shrug. ‘Some fight e ad with my mum and dad. He and Grams don’t agree.’
Uncle Warren chuckled while he pulled out a rollie and lit up. ‘It’s that house, he never wanted you movin in there.’
‘How come?’ I leant forward so I could see the side of his face.
‘Better ask im,’ Uncle reverses, hitting play on his car stereo. Alan Jones croons about rocking jukeboxes as I stare out at the same copy-and-paste landscape. Paint-shedding weatherboards line the streets, alternating with patches of scrub. The wind coming through the window is slightly less hot.

I feel a lightness in my chest, knowing I’ve been allowed out. Being home has other benefits. Normally if I want any space, I’d have to sneak out. Resentment curdles in my guts at what they’d forced me to do. It’s not like I was off drinking or doing drugs. Just hanging out in one of my girls’ houses, giggling and carrying on. But they still tried to ban me. Mum and Dad don’t understand, sometimes I need to forget. To be in a house that isn’t filled to the ceiling with pain. Ever since Nick.

I let my head flop to the side, whacking the car door hard enough to rattle the thoughts away. Focusing on the song, I hum along to the lyrics. Uncle Warren sings them top-note.

Pulling up outside the local corner shop, we hop out while Uncle fills up his car. We order Golden Fried Chicken with loads of chips and gravy, then set to haggling over the movie. Candy doesn’t let me pick, but I knew she wouldn’t. I ban a few I’ve already seen and then leave her to it. Chocolates, ice cream and Tristram’s Cherry Cheer round it out, filling our plastic bag to the brim. God I missed this.

Minutes later, we roll up to Aunty Trina and Uncle Rick’s new place. It’s a lot like their old house, just bigger, with different colours. Another weatherboard on small stumps with peeling cream paint and a faded green roof. A recently added wooden porch extends out the front.

Their old place had three bedrooms, but this one has five. Candy has filled me in on the new joys of sharing a room with just one other sister, not four. They have ten kids total, but most of them have taken off to various family places for the school holidays. Candy is the eldest, and she only stayed because of her new boyfriend, she whispered to me. Only the two youngest ones are still at home. From the car we can see them paddling in a blow-up pool that’s set up on the cool shade of the verandah. I want to dive into it, clothes and all, but the water’s probably lukewarm already.

The tiny woman sitting to one side, splashing the kids, looks up with a toothy smile. ‘Hello granddaughters.’ She groans to a stand, wrapping her arms around me. I haven’t been up to see her yet. Her giant-sized T-shirt and baggy shorts swallow me up in their folds.

‘Hey Grams,’ I say, kissing her damp cheek as she cuddles me into her arms.
‘When’d you get ere bub?’ she pulls back and looks me up and down. ‘Ya need a good feed, ay?’
I smile. ‘Bout an hour ago, just been at Aunty Barb’s.’
‘Mum sent us to watch the kids. She said you should come down for a yarn,’ Candy says, from where she’s tickling the littlies. ‘They might ave a game a cards too.’
Grams’s smile gets bigger. She squeezes me again. ‘We’ll catch up tomorrow, ay.’

I nod and she turns to shuffle inside.

‘You fullas remember Raina, she’s our cousin.’ Candy draws my presence to the attention of their little group. She’s already dipped her hands in the water and wet down her hair.

Katie smiles up at me, a soft shyness that says ‘heartbreaker’. Tyrone shows off his own set of dimples, kicking his fat little body in his floaty.

I smile back but say nothing. Pain scrunches my chest, making my breath rattle. I’m used to being the youngest sibling. Now I’m the only child.

Grams comes back, carrying her smokes and lighter, a giant handbag slung over one shoulder. Her old pink thongs sparkle with bling.

‘Alright you two. Ty’s due for a bottle in an hour, and our little Kit Kat will be gettin hungry soon too.’
‘Sorted.’ I lift up the plastic bag and shake the GFC at her. She drops another quick kiss to my cheek as she passes.
‘Have fun, kids.’

Eager for cards, she’s in the car with Uncle Warren and they barrel away. Uncle Warren had sat patiently in his car that whole time. No one barks orders or gets impatient with Grams, not unless they want to talk to Gramps. Sweetest woman in the world, our grandmother. She married a man built like a tank who thought she hung the stars. Nick had his build. I push the thought away. She and Gramps are usually joined at the hip, and it was weird to see her without him. Must’ve been a good fight.

Water hits my face and I gasp; the cool shock feels awesome. I pretend to be pissed, grabbing up the food and marching into the house, my nose high. Katie and Candy’s giggles follow me.

It’s stinking hot inside, an oppressive stillness. Looking around, I can see every single window and door is open, but nothing stirs. I cross the lounge and hesitate in the doorway to the kitchen. For some reason, I expect to find someone standing in the room.

Shaking my head, I drop the bag in the fridge and head back outside to the others, where it’s cooler and less suffocating.

We play the late afternoon away. Candy and I end up in the water, fully clothed. No one worries about togs around here. She fills me in on the gossip while we play underwater diving with Katie and push Tyrone around in his floaty.

The sun dips lower, bringing a tiny amount of relief. Both kids start to get cranky, so we haul them out and let them dry o on the warm wood. Candy gets towels for all of us. We dry fast.

This house is one of the old ones, meaning the bathroom is outside. It’s not so much an outhouse as a cement block that looks like a public toilet. Inside is the laundry, and the only toilet and shower. It’s not uncommon; houses like this were probably all built at the same time.

A lukewarm shower for the kids, and then Candy and I take turns having quick, pure cold ones. Candy lends me boxers and a singlet. We microwave the food and make chicken with chips and gravy sandwiches. Even Tyrone snacks on some, between pulls on his bottle.

Bellies full, I clean the kitchen while Candy settles the kids in the lounge. I can hear them fussing while she sets up a movie. Digging my hands into hot soapy water is the last thing I want to do. Sweat erupts all over my body, dripping from my forehead into my eyes. The sting distracts me for a second and I start, turning to stare at the empty hallway to my left. I could’ve sworn … but I’m alone. I scoff at myself. Wiping down the bench and table, I hang up the cloth and almost jog into the lounge.

Candy’s dragged in a foam mattress and two fans from the rat-warren of bedrooms slapped onto the house, need in mind more than interior design. She does the microwave popcorn while I lay out the junk food on the coffee table. Chips, Tristram’s, chocolates, lollies. It reminds me of when I was little, and the older cousins would babysit us. Something warm blooms in my chest, knowing we’re continuing a tradition.

We settle in, pulling the kids down to the mattress to snuggle.

We crank the fans to their highest volume, directing them over all of us as we wait for their lm to nish.

Candy sniffs, then groans. ‘Tyrone, already?’ I laugh while she wobbles up with him in her arms. ‘Keep goin, I’ll change im right ere.’
‘So we can sit in the smell of shit all night?’

She pokes her tongue out as she leaves the room. Katie was too engrossed in the story to register her sibling’s departure. I’m lulled by the rush of air on my overheated skin. My eyes drift, wandering to the front door. All the doors and windows are still wide open. It leaves me feeling vulnerable, but everyone here does it. Only the odd car drives past, so it’s not like anyone is around to watch us.

Burnt hills wave gently in the shimmering heat. The sun is sinking fast now, lengthening shadows and stringing the sky with reds and pinks. Darker blues push their way through them even now. The last of the light fades.

The hairs on my arms and legs prickle. A chill flows like a wave onto my skin. That feeling I had all afternoon, of being watched, intensifies.

‘Whoo, he was putrid,’ Candy laughs, carrying a snuggly Tyrone back in.

I try to shake the feeling. This is why I never watch horror movies. My imagination always gets the best of me.

Candy settles on the opposite side of the mattress, keeping Tyrone and Katie tucked between us. I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asks.
I shake my head. ‘Whatchu wanna watch?’
‘You choose.’

I pick up the top video, not even looking at what it is. Putting it in, I slip back to the bed and toss the remote to Candy. Snagging a bag of cheese and onion chips, I stuff my mouth with food to stop my fear leaking out.

By luck, I’d grabbed a family-friendly adventure. A fantasy. It should be carrying me away. But it feels like the tension is rising with the darkness. Despite the heat, I want to shut the doors and windows.

There’s only so long you can stay ready like that. Especially when nothing happens. After a while, I relax back. The kids drift off to sleep, cuddling close to each other, Tyrone with his dummy and Katie with her thumb.

Cut the shit. The kids are fine. We’re fine. It’s all in your head.

Soft creaks make me jump and I look towards the kitchen. Candy laughs, ‘You right cuz?’

I look at her, anxiety crawling across my face. ‘This house … it’s not …?’ I don’t want to say the word. She shushes me anyway. ‘Don’t say it, you’ll bring em.’

‘Bring what?’ I squeak. She winks and laughs. ‘It’s not funny,’ I hiss. I probably imagined that nervous flick of her eyes.
‘It’s just a old house, it talks more than Grams does.’ She waves me off, returning her eyes to the film.

Taking some deep breaths, I snatch some lollies, tossing a few at Candy’s head. The brat catches them all. If there was something here, surely someone would’ve said. Every one of the mob loves to tell scary stories.

I shake my head, sliding down till my head hits the end of the couch. I pull the old sheet up to tuck it over my legs, like Grams always told us to do, to keep us safe. Candy chuckles and I shoot her the finger.

That’s when I feel it, and I want to groan. I need to pee.

I try to push the discomfort away. But the movie isn’t good enough to distract me from my own imagination, and it doesn’t fare any better against pressing physical needs.

I can’t even ask Candy to come. Someone has to stay with the kids.

This is stupid!

‘Don’t pause it.’ I roll to my feet, marching out of the room. I pad through the darkened kitchen to the back door before the goosebumps catch me. Lights bring more heat and a ton of insects, so we haven’t turned on a single one. It’s full dark out there now. There’s a torch by the back door for night-time trips. I snatch it up, flicking it here, there and everywhere as I slip down the stairs. There’s no moon tonight, and no Milky Way to light the sky. There’s a small breeze, but no relief from the heat. Away from the fans, I can feel the sweat building on my skin again.

It’s less oppressive out here. But now I’m alone in the dark and about to pee in an old cement outhouse that’s probably infested with cane toads. I move as fast as I can, while still checking for the ugly little suckers.

A quick look in the bowl and under the lid reassures me that no green frogs lurk, waiting to hop out at the worst possible moment. I relieve myself and wash up in the cement basin.

Mission accomplished, I’m feeling more confident as I head back. At the bottom of the steps, I pause. How could I possibly feel safer out here? But part of me doesn’t want to look up at the doorway. Yanking in a breath, I bolt up the steps, running smack-bang into something soft.

‘What the fuck?’ I yelp.
‘I need ta go too,’ Candy laughs, taking the torch. Pausing, she blinds me with the beam, ‘wait for me there, ay cuz?’
‘The kids …’
‘They’re out to it. Just wait,’ she grumps, dashing past me.
‘Not like I have a bloody choice. I can’t see a damn thing.’ My night vision ruined, I stay still, waiting. The soft glow of the movie comes through first. It’s so still out here, nothing like the city. Only a few streetlights, no traffic noises. Just crickets calling in the dark, and the soft murmur of voices from the TV.

I can see the shadows of the table, chairs and kitchen cabinets. The entry to the hallway is a pitch-black portal. A scraping sound has me checking the doorway to the lounge. A sleep-eyed child doesn’t appear.

Another sound: rolling on wood. This time I know it’s from the hallway. My breath picks up.

I jump as a small shape skims into the kitchen. Too scared to move. It’s a small ball.

Hands grab my sides. I dive forward with a scream. Candy doubles over, laughing so hard she can’t even speak. I snatch the torch and whack her on the head with it. ‘Bitch!’

She laughs harder as I point the torch into the hallway. Nothing but walls. Then down to what I realise is a cricket ball. ‘Huh, how’d that get ere?’ Candy steps forward, but I grab onto her arm.

‘Wait, it … it just rolled out by itself.’ She looks at me like I’ve lost it. ‘I’m serious, it just appened.’
‘It’s a old house cuz, the floors slant. Things roll.’

I stand for a moment, but she doesn’t look too keen to go pick it up now.

Dumping the torch back beside the door, I take off to the lounge. She hurries after me, sticking to my heels. The mad urge to laugh rises, but I choke it down.

Slouching back on the mattress, I look up at the screen. Every hair on my body lifts.
‘Did you …?’
‘What?’ she asks, fluffing up the pillow and shimmying into it. ‘Did you leave the movie runnin?’
‘Umm, hello?’ she gestures to the TV, where the actors are frozen.
‘That’s not … I swear I heard … voices.’ I look over and Candy looks further freaked.
‘Don’t be stupid,’ she scoffs, but her voice is thready.
‘But—’
‘Look, stop fuckin around. Just shut up and watch the movie.’

Candy points the remote. A scene scrolls before me where the characters are kicking butt. Not a single word of dialogue to distract from the choreography and special effects.

No sign of the soft murmurs I’d heard.
I feel my heart pick up, match my breath.

That feeling of being watched creeps back. An urge to search the doorways and windows pulls at me. Like something is there, waiting to be acknowledged.

A loud click makes me jump. ‘What was that?’ I ask, staring across into Candy’s eyes. Hers look almost as wide as mine.

‘It … sounded like Mum and Dad’s bedroom door.’
Sliding down further, I yank the sheet up to my chin. I flip to my side, curling my body around Katie’s little frame. I don’t care about the heat of being so close. I just have this urge: to protect, to hide.

Don’t look, I whisper to myself, shutting my eyes.
‘Dja wanna turn it off?’ Candy asks me.
I shake my head. I wanted something to cover the sounds.

Any sounds that shouldn’t be there.
I thought she’d make fun of me. Waited for it.
I feel the mattress shift as she copies my pose, curling herself around Tyrone. I open my eyes to stare over their little heads into hers.

‘It’s just a old house,’ she repeats. ‘It’s the tilted floors, or maybe a breeze?’

I nod. A breeze, that would do it.
‘How long ya been in ere again?’
‘A few days. We moved in just after Katie’s birthday.’ The place was normally filled with people. Teenagers, children, adults. Small sounds, little feelings, would get lost in the cacophony of life. The thought must’ve been clear on my face.

‘No way,’ Candy shook her head at me. ‘If there was somethin in ere, Mum woulda felt it.’

A thud above us. I yank the sheet up over my head, forcing Candy to follow suit. We stare into each other’s eyes.

‘It’s the roof coolin down. Old tin, no insulation, it did it at our old place too,’ Candy says through a clenched jaw. ‘Stop it, you’re freakin me out.’

I nod. Not wanting to ask why she didn’t pull the sheet down then. Cuddling in closer to Katie, I shut my eyes again.

There are long moments of nothing. The action scene fades and talking resumes on the screen. I focus on the words, drawing them in close. Reminding myself of the real world, where the paranormal and ghosts are just fiction. In the bright light of day, I’d probably laugh my arse off.

My heart slows. My breath steadies.

A growing embarrassment ushes my cheeks. Candy will tell everyone about how I’ve carried on. I’ll be so shame.

I open my eyes to check what she’s doing. Her skin is pale, tears leaking slowly from her eyes.

‘What?’ I mouth.

She shifts her eyes downwards, no other part of her body moving. At first I see nothing. Just the glow of the TV painting the linen in bright colours.

The light flickers. Something was moving between us and the light. Something that didn’t make any noise on the bare wood floors.

My body tenses. I feel the tears well in my own eyes as I stare into my cousin’s gaze. I struggle to quiet my breath, straining to hear. Anything.

The urge to lower the sheet is intense. Just a look. Something to prove that it was a trick of the light. A moth bouncing off the screen. Nothing.

If I look, all my fears will feel stupid. If I look. The elders say you should never look.

The air feels heavy, pressing down on us, but there’s nothing there, I know it.

A growling hiss rises above the movie. Candy makes a tiny noise. Sweat slides down my forehead into my eyes.

It had been a man’s voice, or an animal’s. Sounded like it was coming from one of the rooms.

Our breaths pick up, fogging the space between us. I slowly reach out a hand to Candy. She grabs on like she’s drowning.

A soft rolling sound, like someone moving that same ball down the hallway. Only this time in the opposite direction. Against the slanted floors.

The sweat between our fingers builds.

Another growl, closer this time. In the room.

I’m breathing so hard I feel like I’m going to suffocate. I desperately want fresh air.
What if it was a family member just fucking around? What if it wasn’t?

God, please let Katie and Tyrone stay asleep.

I tighten my fingers on Candy’s. I can feel her shaking. Know that I’m trembling just as hard.

Our world shrinks to that place under the sheet. I wonder if my feet are covered properly. Should I have tucked the ends in tight around me? Could something reach under them? I can’t move to check.

A soft hiss. Air brushes the cloth near my neck.

The fabric shifts. Someone is picking at the edges at my back. A pained growl in my ear wrings a sob out of me. Then running footsteps. Away from me. Out of the room, down the hall. A door slams.

I keep my eyes on the sheet stretched taut above us.

The pressure on the sheet lifts. The tension breaks. Candy and I relax our fingers. Something has changed, but what?

A smell like Lynx and football leather fills my nostrils. One I know and cherish, that’s been missing for over a year. There’s no way it can be real.

The TV light ickers and is partially blocked. A gure stands above us, its outline highlighted by blue shimmers from the screen.

Tears race down my face.
I know that build. Would recognise it anywhere.

A flicker and the shadow vanishes. The light returns. I yank the sheet down.

‘Wait!’ I sit up. There’s nothing and no one to see.
Just us. Candy sits up too. ‘Was that …?’
She takes one look at my face and climbs over the kids. Pulls me in close. I sob into her shoulder.

I don’t let it go for too long. My grief for my brother would never end if I let it all out.
I pull away, dragging my shirt up over my face and scrubbing it, hard. Lowering it, I can see Candy staring around us. All our junk food has been emptied onto the ground, the packets shredded like confetti. And we hadn’t heard anything.

‘Fuck this.’ I shift Katie around, lifting her up into my arms. Burying her mumbling protest in my shoulder. Candy reaches across, swooping up Tyrone. We’re out the door that fast. Bare feet hitting wood on the verandah, then grass. We make it into the street, where the harsh bitumen pricks my feet. But there’s no way I’m going back for my thongs.

Our pace slows to a walk. Never run, they reckon. It attracts things that will chase you.

We walk along the road, where the streetlights meet in the middle. As far away from the dark as we can get. There’s no discussion, it’s all instinct.

The urge to look behind chases me. One last pull. A quick glance. That’s all.

I flick my eyes over my shoulder. A chill races over my body, blasting back the heat.

My feet pick up speed. I swear I’d seen a man’s face in the windows. Watching.

I’m not going to look again to confirm it. If someone has broken in, they can take whatever the hell they want.

No one speaks. It’s a bad idea to mention these things in the dark. It calls them to you.

We’re two lone figures, walking in a strange silent world. The kids stay asleep. The dark lies either side of us. Watching.

No cars come along. No people move. No lights are on in the houses we pass. We could be alone in the world.

It takes just ten minutes to reach Aunty Barb’s place. It takes an eternity.

The lights of Aunty’s place finally come into view, warm and beckoning. I shift Katie closer to me. My arms are going numb. The door is wide open. The adults are clustered around the table. Cards are flipping from hand to hand. Beers perch on top of a sheet that’s stopping the cards from sliding o the table. It’s all so normal.

We leave the streetlights behind and walk into the dark yard.

Cane toads pop into my head, but I only hesitate for a moment. Our pace picks up across the dark space, desperate to reach the light.

We run into the lounge and everyone jerks around to stare.

‘What the—’ Grams calls. ‘Don’t come runnin in like that, you kids, you scared the shit out of us!’
Mum hops up, coming straight to me. ‘Rain, what’s wrong?’
I let her pull me close, her arms taking in both me and Katie. I’m shaking too hard to speak.
‘Baby, talk to me.’ Her voice is shrill now.

I stare over at Candy. She’s in her dad’s arms, her mum faffing around her, checking Tyrone’s sleeping body. It’s amazing neither kid woke through all of that.

Katie tenses in my arms, her little body tightening like an electric fence-line. Her soft wail brings Aunty Trina running and I gladly hand her over. Mum’s arms never drop from around me. Katie’s cries wake Tyrone, and the adults comfort them.

Mum drags me onto the couch, Dad taking up the other spot beside me. His gaze runs over us compulsively.

‘Daught,’ he demands, ‘talk to us. What appened?’

My teeth are chattering despite the heat, but I force the story out as fast as I can. Stunned silence fills the space for a moment.

‘It’s that house.’ Gramps’ voice drags all eyes to him when I’m done. He stands in the kitchen, his arms around Grams, who looks just as shaken as I feel.

‘I told you Katrina,’ he snarls to his daughter. ‘I told you not to move those kids in there.’

‘But it felt fine earlier,’ Grams protests.

He shook his head. ‘You know better than that. You know what that place was.’

Mum’s arms tighten around me. ‘Dad, that’s just a story.’

‘My black arse.’ His anger burns over me. Cleansing. I know that instinct, to fight fear and pain with the strength of rage. His eyes shift to take in me and Candy, their dark brown comforting. Mum’s eyes.

Candy muffles her sobs into her mother’s shoulder. Tyrone is safely tucked into Uncle Rick’s arms, and she’s pressed so tight to her mother, it’s like she’s five again.

‘This is what comes from fuckin with things that don’t belong,’ Gramps growls at us.

‘Gramps, please,’ I whisper. ‘What was that?’

‘History, bub.’ His face softens on mine. ‘Reaching out to take hold again. That house used to be part of the old ospital. It was huge back in the gold-rush times. When the town got too small to need it, they chopped it up. Spread the old demountables around the whole town. New houses see?’

‘But … there was a … a ball rolling, like somethin was playin,’ Candy offers, looking up.

‘Hmmm,’ he nods. ‘That used ta be the children’s wing. Lotta sick kids back in them days. And it was where they’d take our kids. When we’d get too uppity. That’s where they’d be put, to wait. Bad things appened in that ospital.’

‘Dad, we been there a week, nothin as appened,’ Aunty Trina protests.

He snorts. ‘Bet that was the rst time you left kids there alone. No adults to save them, see.’

Quiet descends. One filled with sadness and dread. I don’t know what Aunty and Uncle will decide, but no way in hell am I going back inside that place. Not even to clean up the mess, or get my things.

‘But that thing at the end,’ Candy croaked. ‘It helped us.’

Mum’s hand strokes down my shoulder, pulling my eyes back to her.

‘Not a thing,’ she whispers, asking with her eyes what she can’t bear to voice. Her face crumples when she sees the answer in my face.

We hold each other tighter. The pain of lost family piercing and deep. Always.

INSPIRATION

‘Don’t Look!’ is loosely based on a real event in my life. It was one of the most terrifying nights of my life, and I never stepped foot inside that house again. My cousin later admitted that she asked me to sleep over because she was scared to sleep there alone. She didn’t warn me about its origins or anything else, because she knew I’d refuse to come. She was 100% right.

I think most of us have experienced that scary feeling of not being alone and wanting to look but ghting the urge. Yet, it’s more terrifying when you can’t see what’s out there. I love and hate it when the monster stays in the shadows, never fully seen.

The story includes my community’s beliefs that you should never look in those situations, and that our loved ones are never truly gone. Though we grieve their loss, we know they are always with us, especially when we need them most. All you have to do is trust your gut, and listen.