“Don’t be a fucking wuss Oliver!” My friend called back to me, but I wasn’t looking at him, I was focused on the dark, decrepit building looming up over us. Ivy covered the walls and even seemed to spill into the windows through shattered glass.

I was beginning to question if he was really my friend... “Oliver, if you don’t hurry up, I’ll tell the whole school you’re a fag!” Travis called from the doorway of the haunted house. From this distance and in the dim light of that time between when the sun started setting and the streetlamps turned on it was hard to make out his features or expression.

I took a deep breath and slowly made my way up the path to join him on the rotting porch. He handed me a flashlight. “You owe me half the bet money,” I muttered, turning on the flashlight. This terrible and only friend of mine, with his round cheeks that made him look chubbier than he was, his spiked black hair, and his brown, monolid eyes, grinned at me and pushed open the front door to the old, abandoned Clark house. It opened easily with a squeak, the latch already long broken. Travis held up his own flashlight and turned it on. It cast harsh shadows across his face as he said, “only if you stay the whole night.”

Almost immediately after entering, I found the corner of the front room with the least amount of mold and cobwebs and sat down. Travis insisted on going exploring.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Do what you want, I’m staying right here.” I pulled my knees to my chest.

“Shouldn’t we stick together in case of ghosts~?” He wiggled his fingers and put on the stereotypical ‘spooky’ voice for the word ‘ghosts’.

I hugged my knees tighter and glared at him, shaking my head.

“Alright, fine then,” Travis held his hands up, the flashlight pointed straight at the ceiling, and backed up a few steps before turning around and jogging up the steps, “but I hear the living room is where the ghosts hand out the most,” he called down, leaning over the banister before disappearing up the stairs.

“Travis!” I called after him but his footsteps didn’t stop bounding up the steps.

I sighed and laid back against the wall, one arm wrapped around my knees and the other holding up the flashlight and shining it all around the room. It suddenly felt colder and I would almost swear that I heard whispered voices. I jumped to my feet and called out, “Travis,” as I ran up the stairs after him.

There was a loud crack and I was halted in my steps as my foot went through a step and I was stuck. My heart pounded loudly in my ears and my leg wouldn’t budge, “Travis, help! I’m stuck!”

The response I got back was Travis’ scream.