She followed the tour into the old plantation house and could feel the icy glare as soon as she stepped over the threshold, but from where she couldn’t tell. She carefully glanced in an antique mirror as she passed by, only to see her watchful eyes staring back. As the tour went on, she couldn’t shake the feeling of someone’s eyes boring into her and it gave her goosebumps despite the summer heat. The tour of the house wound down and the tour guide led people outside, past the same mirror in the hall. She glanced at it one final time. A woman stood just behind her, covered in what looked like a billowing, black shroud. Pale, dead eyes glowed through it, mouth stuck in an eternal scream that started as nearly inaudible and grew to an earsplitting volume that caused the girl to take off running, knocking down a few of the other tourists in front of her as she bolted from the house.