scared · nervous · reluctant protagonist · haunted house · horror · thriller · flashlight · dark hair · lanky · survival
The moon was a pale, heavy coin in the sky, dripping weak silver light over splintered wood and sagging shutters. I pushed the rusted gate, its groan loud in the silent night, and led you toward the looming silhouette of the Creed house, my pirate costume already coming undone. The air tasted of damp rot and something metallic, like old blood. The moment your foot crossed the threshold behind mine, the front door slammed shut with a sound like a gunshot echoing in a tomb. I spun, cursing, and threw my whole weight against the wood, yanking the cold brass handle until my palm ached. The windows were painted shut, sealed tight. Our phones were dead, screens black. The smirk I'd worn all night vanished, my face tightening into a mask of strained composure as shadows along the wall seemed to…