You stand almost hypnotized by conflicting emotions of fear and curiosity, silently gazing at the dilapidated house given life to by unknown hands. You begin to shiver as though ice had replaced your spine, thanks partially to the cold sea air that enveloped your entire body. However, not even multiple layers of clothing would protect you against the deathly cold that came from within you, born from a primal fear of the unknown inherent in all sentient being regardless of shape, size, or race. It was the one thing that made all equal, and the structure before them now was just that – it was fear incarnate.
A single, time-worn walkway led up to house; the dead trees that lined the sides of the path like pilgrims with their hands raised high in praise of some pagan god, informing of the fresh sacrifice that was about to come. Red roses grow wildly in thick batches by the gate, almost as if staining the entryway with blood and deter all passersby from entering the cursed place. The light from the moon cast a ghoulish glow on the structure, the rotting vines on its side forming a twisted maze of green upon the side; reaching their tentacles towards the roof and into the cracks into.
The mansion's walls showed black decay by purposeful neglect, the splotches of original paint hinting at the owner’s former prosperity before some tragedy forced them to abandon whatever wealth they had. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey; adding a final touch to the manor of damned, fit for the kings and queens of the supernatural. You tell yourself that it was not real, but your trembling lips and clammy hands belie that thought. You want to go back – to forget this horrible place and leave whatever sleeping entity that dwelled within alone. However, you are forced by your own curiosity; you know something bad is bound to happen. Nevertheless, you take a single step towards your own damnation.
The door begrudgingly creaked open when you pushed it; you curse yourself, noting that the noise could have awoken the secrets that should have stayed secret. A musty, dank order creeps into your nose, but you ignore it. You have no intention to confirm whether or not it belonged to a corpse or not. You call out for anyone to sate your anxiety, but the house was dead silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans from the rotting wood that now had to support the footsteps of a live visitor. You look up to see black and brown mold that dotted the ceiling in clusters, evident of years of rain seeping through the roof.
Unwilling to stay and endure the oppressive darkness of the entryway, you quietly entered the dark living room with a stone in your throat. Windows covered with grime and dirt welcome you into the ordered madness, the calm moonlight struggling to penetrate the choking darkness in thin rays. Sharp shadows roamed around the room; you know it was just your mind playing tricks on you, but nothing you could do could stave off the crawling fear that crept up your back. The sofa and chairs suddenly overturned, revealing deep grooves on the ground where they used to sit. Something had just forced them to tumble. You panic and try to run back where you came in, but it was too late – the door had already shut. You are now trapped inside this cursed manor.
You run up the splitting staircase and see a large jagged hole dug through the middle wall that dared any to enter, or at least peek into the unknown, instead of running either left or right. You enter the hole as if pulled in by some unseen force and see picture frames that hung off-center from a misplaced grand bookcase that stood the corner of the room, undisturbed for a long time, which begged the question as to what else the force that overturned the furniture in the living room was capable of moving such a weight. If one were to correctly guess, selecting the correct book could reveal a secret doorway into a labyrinth that led into the bowels of the haunted house where the secret of its damnation lay hidden. To brave the depths meant to risk horrors beyond your imagination, but at the same time, it might be the only way to your salvation.
Should you choose to go back into the hallway, you would see a sliver of light coming from behind a door. You would be tempted to approach and open the door. If you do, you would find out that the room was that of a grand bathroom, dust swirling around like bubbles floating in some infernal sea. The medicine cabinet mirror lay shattered in pieces on the floor tile. Empty medicine bottles lay in the porcelain wash bowl, where a closer look would reveal the discoloration of the water – a malady-brown concoction from which emanated a rank odor you remember from when you first entered the house. A lone mouse stood sentry at the bottom of the tub. Never having a visitor in a while, it curiously eyed me before scuttling away into the darkness, just before that same darkness took shape before your very eyes.
You try to scream for help, but fail. After all, dead men’s words hold no meaning in this cursed place.
Do not let it catch you.
Escape your fate.
Or succumb.
