The Mason House on Folletto Lane was that place in town everyone subconsciously avoided. You know those houses that give you the creeps for some reason you just can't explain. Every town has one. People walk on the opposite side of the street to avoid walking too close. Dogs' hackles rise as they pass by. If a kid's ball ends up on the lawn, it's never seen again. The usual.
Of course, the stories didn't help the house's reputation much either.
It was recorded that the house was first purchased in 1926 by John and Catherine Mason. The Mason's had a child that had been kidnapped shortly after the move, causing paranoia throughout the neighborhood. The Great Depression hit the Mason's hard and after an argument one night, John committed murder-suicide by killing Catherine and shortly after, himself. The house was subsequently sold to and bought by various people who never stayed for more than six months, claiming they would hear unusual noises coming from the room which used to be a nursery. With a severe lack of prospective buyers, the house eventually fell into disrepair and became abandoned completely.
"So, are you excited for your last day of school?" Sarah glanced over at the passenger seat where her younger brother sat gazing silently out the window. Since she returned home a few days ago, Toby had been unusually reserved. He spoke very little, and when he was home, he spent his time in his room. Karen chalked it up to puberty and Robert apparently didn't notice anything was different. But Sarah couldn't help but feel that something was bothering him.
"I guess," Toby answered. He turned his attention back to the window, and they were left with only the low humming of the engine to fill the silence.
Sarah sighed inwardly at Toby's response. She hoped Karen was correct in assuming his excessively introverted state was only a phase. When visiting her family during the summer, she and Toby always got on great. They would go watch cheesy sci-fi movies at the local theater and visit fairs and go on all the rides until one of them got too dizzy or sick. From the looks of it, Toby didn't seem to be up to their regular activities. It was going to be a long summer.
As the car turned the corner, Sarah noticed Toby sitting upright in his seat like he was watching for something.
"Sarah," he asked, still staring intently out the window, "what do you know about the Mason House?"
The question was innocent enough. The younger kids in the neighborhood were always fascinated by the mysterious house and the tales that surrounded it. Sarah remembered how when she was his age kids would dare each other to ring the doorbell and tell elaborate stories of their own makings about the house. She was sure the stories had become even more fantastical since her time and wondered what new tales the kids had concocted.
"Well, I probably know about as much as everyone else. The Mason's baby was kidnapped, and afterwards the father ended up killing his wife and then himself."
"Do you believe in ghosts?" The question surprised Sarah, causing her to hesitate.
"No. No, not in ghosts." Her answer prompted Toby to turn and look at her questioningly as if there was some hidden or double meaning to what she said. "Why the sudden interest in the supernatural anyway? Not planning to contact the dead are we?" Sarah asked with a sly comment had the opposite effect of what she had intended, and Toby quickly retreated back into himself.
"No."
His answer effectively brought the conversation back to a lull, and they sat in silence until they pulled up to the school.
As she parked, Sarah attempted to reach out to her brother once more.
"Hey," she spoke, softly placing her hand on his shoulder, "sorry I teased you."
"It's okay," he said with a shrug.
"It's not actually. Karen used to mock me for my interest in fantasy. Still does on occasion. And I should know better. Sorry."
Toby gave her a small smile. "You worry too much." He turned and climbed out of the car, shutting the door on his way out.
Sarah watched him as he walked onto the campus and disappeared into the throngs of junior high adolescence, then started back home, still berating herself for her careless words and feeling that Toby only consoled her for her own sake.
An early summer storm poured down as Sarah ran out of her car and headed for the cover of her porch. Lightning lit the sky and illuminated her path while she dashed up the stairs and burst through the door in a flurry of wet hair and clothes.
One one-thousand
Sarah walked through the house, leaving a trail of water droplets in her wake on the way to the kitchen.
Two one-thousand
She went straight for the coffee pot, but seeing that it was empty, quickly set out to brew a new batch.
Three one-thousand
Her craving for caffeine dominated her every move, causing her overlook the flashing red light on the answering machine.
Four one-thousand
Thunder roared, penetrating the walls and echoing throughout the house, while the power shut off simultaneously, emerging Sarah in complete darkness.
"Dammit," she cried in a caffeine-deprived rage. Outside the wind howled and rain pelted the windows in loud, heavy splatters. Sarah could feel a migraine coming on and raised her fingers to her temples in an attempt to ease the dull throbbing with careful kneading.
Her clothes clung to her body; the thin cotton shirt plastered to her frame and jeans stuck to her legs, heavy with water. Chills begun to set in, triggering uncontrollable shivering and goose bumps, the only remedy being a long, hot shower. Unfortunately, with the power out she would have to be flexible on the 'long' part.
Sarah padded up to her room, making soft squishing noises while stripping off her uncomfortable garments in the process. After wrestling out of her pants and tossing them into the laundry basket with the rest of her clothing, she grabbed her toiletries and headed for her much anticipated shower.
It took a few moments for the water to turn hot, but when it hit her, she hissed in pain and then exhaled in relief as the heat expelled all trace of chill from her body. She stood still under the stream of water, letting it rush over her and soothe her tense muscles. The heat had a drowsing effect on her and she strained to keep her eyes open, but the hot water tank soon emptied and she had no choice but to abandon her steam-filled sanctuary for the bitter cool air of the bathroom.
After switching her damp robe for a pair of sweats, Sarah made her way down the stairs, careful to avoid falling in the darkness of the house. The last thing she needed was to break her neck. And she could just imagine her parents reaction. Her father would be silent with worry and Karen would give her endless grief about her carelessness and lack of responsibility.
Now that she thought about it, she should probably light a few candles, especially since she already banged her knee and stubbed her toe in the short time the electricity had been off. She was sure the next accident would be fatal. But instead of candles, Sarah lit a fire in the fireplace, giving her light as well as warmth.
Sarah sat across from the fireplace on the comfy leather couch she had come to love before she had moved out. It reminded her that she needed to replace that horrid floral thing she had in her own apartment that served as a clothes rack. As her mind trailed through a list of other changes she needed to make to her apartment—from buying new drapes to repairing the dishwasher—the couch begun to drag her down, forming to the shape her body and pulling her from consciousness till the only thing on her mind was the soft crackling of the fire and then nothing at all.
She could hear something—a far off ringing noise that was drawing her out of the embrace of darkness where no thought, pleasant or otherwise, could reach her. But the darkness quickly loosened its hold upon her as she realized the ringing was a telephone.
Sarah bounded up off the couch and raced for the handheld set, located in the kitchen.
Hello, Williams residence. Please leave-
Sarah cut off the machine before it could deliver the rest of what was sure to be a typical greeting with the usual humdrum people usually recorded. "Hello?"
"Sarah! We have been calling you repeatedly for hours. What is going on?" Karen's voice was shrill, causing Sarah to wince in pain and confusion as she was still trying to piece reality back together after waking.
"Um... sorry. I must have left my cell in the car after dropping Toby off."
A dramatic sigh laced with disappointed undertones filled the receiver. "You need to be more responsible. What if there had been an emergency? What would you have done then, hmm?" Sarah stifled a groan at her stepmother's lecturing. It took every ounce of her will to bite back that cheeky retort lingering at the tip of her tongue, which would only lead to a whole other manner of arguments. "I called the house and left a message, and when I tried again I couldn't get through. You didn't unplug the phone did you? Do you have someone over? You know how I feel about you having people over when we're not there-"
"Karen," Sarah spoke over her, "there's a storm. It knocked the power out a few hours ago, and it must have come back on while I was sleeping. That's why you couldn't get ahold of me and why I didn't get any of your messages."
"Well, I certainly hope you didn't let your brother walk home in that. Actually, I was calling to see if you could pick him up, but since I couldn't get ahold of you I suppose that didn't happen." Despite there being a thunder storm—the entire cause for this lack of communication—the implication was clear: it was Sarah's fault. As if she could control the damn weather and had made it so Karen herself couldn't get through from two states over just to spite her. Yes, definitely her doing. "So is he there? I'd like to speak to him. Poor dear must be drenched walking home in the rain. You'll have to make him some soup and give him that herbal medicine I have in the cabinet, so he won't catch a cold."
"It hasn't rained for a while now," Sarah said, peering out the kitchen curtains and onto the patio. The ground was dry, indicating the rain stopped some time ago, but the sky was still heavy with swirling storm clouds. "Do you know what time it is?"
"Why- Sarah, did you even hear a word I just said?"
"The clocks are all wrong, and if it isn't too late I can pick up Toby on his way home because he isn't here yet," she spoke, ignoring the older woman's chastising.
Karen was quiet. Sarah assumed that she was checking the time like she asked her to do, but when her stepmother answered it was with shaking breath.
"Toby isn't home." It was a statement, not a question.
"Not yet, no," Sarah responded carefully. "Karen, what's wrong?"
"Oh, it's nothing," she dismissed, the wavering in her voice still apparent. "I'm just overreacting. It's only been," Sarah could hear Karen fiddling with her designer rose gold watch that Robert had given to her on their first anniversary. It was too big, but Karen wouldn't let him take it back to get it resized. More fashionable to have it dangling around her wrist than cutting off the circulation, she'd say. "...it's only been thirty minutes since he got out," she finished. Sarah had no doubt the woman was overreacting—that was her speciality—but for some reason Sarah decided to indulge her seeing as Toby's behavior of late was troubling and a reasonable cause for concern.
"Karen! What. Is. Wrong," Sarah said, emphasizing each word to get her frustration across. Her stepmother exhaled in resignation, sensing her stepdaughter's limited patience.
"It's just that a few weeks ago one of Toby's friends, the Johnson's kid, went into that awful house on Folletto Lane and broke his leg after falling halfway through some rotting floorboards. It was a mess. The fire department had to free him and the entire neighborhood was out watching him being carted off in an ambulance. Toby said he had been dared to go inside by one of the older kids. I guess it's a sort of rite of passage for the sixth graders, and I'm just worried someone might pressure Toby into doing the same thing. Not that Toby would do something like that. He's much too responsible to get involved with that sort of thing. Besides, it sometimes takes longer for him to get home. He likes to talk with his friends, so there's really no need to worry." Sarah wasn't sure who Karen was trying to convince, but if she had to go off something this whole thing with the Mason House could explain why Toby had been so withdrawn lately. The peer pressure could be getting to him, and that's not to say he hasn't been bullied for resisting—if he is resisting. Their conversation earlier proved Toby was obviously interested in the house. And why ask about ghosts if he wasn't thinking about going into the house?
Oh god, he's going into that house. Karen's going to kill me.
Sarah quickly went through her best possible options. Based on her own experience it's only a ten minute walk from school to home. Her best course of action would be to intercept him. The route from the school to their house is almost a straight shot, so she should have no trouble finding him if he's just walking with friends. Unless he went into the Mason House. And if he is in the house, well, let's just say being wished away to the goblins would be getting off easy for him.
"Just make sure to call when he gets home, all right."
"Yeah, I will. Don't worry, Karen. I'm sure he'll be home any minute," Sarah answered, trying not to seem hurried.
"Okay. Don't forget."
"I won't. Bye." Sarah didn't wait for Karen's response. She hung up, grabbed her keys off the kitchen counter, and raced out the door to her car.
Outside, the wind was savage. It blew and it wailed. Inside the car its cries were muted. But like a child seeking attention, the wind did its best to make itself known by jarring the car off course, forcing Sarah to have to wrestle for control of the wheel. Two trees and a fence had already been subjected to the wind's fit of rage, and more and more people sought shelter from its ill temper till the streets and sidewalks were devoid of all life.
Sarah had twice now driven from her house to the school and even down other routes and gone back home trying to find Toby. She was now sitting in her car, which was parked outside the Mason House, attempting to calm herself. Knowing that if she burst through the door in a righteous fury, there was no way it was going to end well. Toby would most likely shun her as the deranged older sister (who's not really related to him because they don't have the same mom). No, she would have to handle this sensibly. She wasn't going to let something as petty as this situation cause an estrangement between them. To be completely honest she wasn't even that angry about him going into the house. That worry belonged to Karen. Sarah knew kids did this sort of thing. Hell, just a few months ago her and some old college friends broke into a shack up at a lake, got drunk then proceeded to go skinny dipping in the water. Who was she to judge? What upset her was that Toby didn't bother to tell her what was going on. All he had to do was say, "Hey, I'm gonna go into that old haunted house. You know the one you pass on the way to my school. Cover for me if mom calls," and that would be the end of it. He didn't even bother to tell her where he was when he knew she was responsible for him, and if something happened she would be unfairly blamed for it.
Sarah, finally resigning herself to the role of adult guardian, climbed out of her car and headed up the path that lead to the Mason House.
The ground was made up of water-soaked gravel that crunched under her every step. Dead grass and withered plants bordered the path, long forgotten with the rest of the house. Trees littered the yard with their bare branches, shrouding the house from view. Compared with the neighbor's trees, bursting with color and life after having just blossomed, the Mason House was eerie and gruesome. Now that she was here, Sarah was reminded exactly why this place inspired such fascination and macabre tales.
As she neared the entrance, the trees slowly opened up allowing for a better visualization of the residence.
The house was impressive. A three story Victorian manor with a wrap around porch complete with stained glass windows. It was made of the finest oak money could buy and painted an elegant shade of navy. The porch was fitted with classic Doric columns that were wrapped in ivy, giving off an air of sophistication. Lastly were the windows, handcrafted in Venice and then shipped overseas. It had been a magnificent structure. But time took its toll on the house as it does with all things of this world. The wood was now rotting and the once pristine paint job had become faded and discolored. The porch had recently collapsed in on itself and been overrun with ivy to the point where you could no longer make out the flooring. The windows had been boarded up in the fifties after kids started throwing rocks at them for sport, remnants of shards still lingering around the edges.
The doors were what really gave the house its imposing air. Standing at eight feet tall and black as night, they were enough to send any child running away in terror. Its panels were inlaid with bronze and the knockers were made of brass.
The knockers were exceptionally strange. They were a pair of faces, unalike in shape or guise, but identical in their grotesque appearance. When Sarah was close enough, she recoiled at the sight of them.
Every facet, every feature was exact. She was sure of it. So much, in fact, it was a wonder they didn't start speaking. It had to be some kind of coincidence. Although she racked her brain for plausible explanations, she could come up with nothing. Perhaps she was hallucinating. Yes, that was it. She must be more worried about Toby than she thought. Just a symptom of anxiety. Nothing to get all worked up over. They were a pair of knockers for christ's sake.
The more she tried to convince herself of the knockers' irrelevance, the more troubled she became about them. Sarah hadn't encountered anything remotely associated with the Labyrinth since her run, and now here she was face to face with figures taken straight from that night. She could handle this two ways: continue to believe that the knockers' presence was only coincidence or acknowledge that both her and Toby's involvement with this house and the sudden appearance of the knockers was more than chance. If the later, entering the house meant more than she had anticipated.
Like the knockers, the handles were too made of brass, and when Sarah tried to turn them they wouldn't budge.
This sort of hindrance would generally discourage others. They would see it as sign for them not to enter. An omen to warn them of the impending doom they would be subjected to if they were to enter.
Sarah simply took it in stride.
Reaching for the portly goblin, she grabbed its ring and slammed it three times against the door. As expected, the left door creaked opened allowing her entrance. If she hadn't been so frightened, she would have smiled.
Once inside Sarah breathed a sigh of relief. She was sure that when she walked through the door she would find herself on a hill, overlooking a structure of complex configuration and immense size, encompassed by an orange-tinted sky and holding a contorted, misshapen castle at its center. Instead, she was greeted with the inside of a decaying house. Thick layers of dust that covered every surface filled the air in a dense cloud of dirt with each step she took. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, what little light entered through the windows reflecting off them. The foyer lead straight to the main sitting room, and except for a few broken chairs there was no furniture she could see. The wallpaper was fading and coated in large, dark stains, and peeling in several places exposing the hardwood underneath. Places where paintings and other decor once hung were now bare, unaffected by the elements as opposed to the rest of the house, and adorned the walls like inverse shadows.
At the base of the staircase was a large hole. Its edges were rotted and splintered. Looking down into it you could see the foundations of the house along with rusted nails and rat droppings.
This must be were that boy fell through the floor, Sarah mused, prompting an inspection for the safest route around.
As she considered hoisting herself over the railing, a noise broke through her concentration. She looked up, certain it came from the floor overhead and waited to see if she could hear it again.
When it came, Sarah wasn't sure what to make of it. But if she had to guess, she would've said that there was a stray on the second floor. Besides, what else could it be? After that, Sarah ignored the noise and went back to trying to figure out how best to get up the stairs without killing herself.
Remembering her earlier idea about climbing over the banister, Sarah thought she might as well give it a shot. She walked over to the side of the staircase where it wasn't too high up and gripped the balustrade so she could pull herself up and over to the other side. As soon as she let her weight off the ground, the railing broke off in her hands and sent her flying back. There was no time to feel any of the pain because when she hit the floor, inhuman, high-pitched cackling broke out from above.
She was up instantly.
"Toby!" Sarah called out, her voice resonating throughout the house. Sarah was currently operating under the impression that Toby and his friends were on the second floor of the Mason House and were the ones who laughed when she fell.
Unfortunately for Sarah, she was wrong.
The combination of the fall, the laughing, the knockers, and the fact that Toby had gone missing caused her to panic. She refused to believe that this was happening again. It couldn't. She made no wish. And in no way could there be any goblins in this house
When she didn't receive an answer she tried the railing again, this time careful to test her weight. Throwing one leg over, then the other, she was finally on the stairs and began taking them one at a time in case any decided to give way.
But when she reached the top of the stairs any delusions she had vanished.
In most houses when you go up to a different floor, you are presented with a hallway that might give you the option of going left or right or both. This house did give the occupants that choice, but similarly with many houses their hallways also contain doors that open to different rooms; this house didn't. Not a single door lined the hall, which not only struck her as odd as well as unbelievable because she could have sworn she had seen windows on the second floor before coming inside the house. And if the absence of doors wasn't enough to disturb her, compared to the first floor this hallway was pristine.
There wasn't a single speck of dust to be seen. Unlike the dingy, worn wallpaper downstairs, the wallpaper up here was slick and flawless. Even the floorboards looked as if they had just been oiled.
Quickly grasping her situation wasn't as simple as she thought it would be, Sarah turned away intending to go back downstairs to search for Toby there.
Instead, she ran headlong into the wall.
"Shit." Again laughter rang out making her grimace in annoyance as well as pain. Upon opening her eyes she discovered what proceeded to be a pang of true fear. The stairs were gone. Whirling around in all directions she realized that she was trapped. "No. No. No. No. Not again!" All rationality deserted her, leaving her pounding the walls in desperation. Shrill shrieks of laughter persisted, feeding off her despair, but she could hear none of it.
Not long after her run, Sarah began experiencing nightmares. Her dreams became filled with small savage beasts that tore her to shreds. Angry insects would chase her down, biting her till she woke up screaming. There was even a dream that involved her slowly drowning in water that smelled so awful she would swear the dream was real.
One other dream she had on multiple occasions, but she was never sure if she could classify it under nightmare.
In it she was exploring a room. It was a beautiful room. The walls were draped in silk. The air smelled of sugar and fruit. And there was music. Always the same song. It would play over and over and over again, but the notes were faint and the voice was distant, so she could never quite make it out. It always ended the same too. She would find herself standing in front of a mirror, dressed in the most magnificent dress with ribbons and jewels in her hair. While admiring herself, she would notice someone standing behind her. He was always hiding behind a mask, watching her. She'd ask him his name, but he wouldn't answer—never did. Though eventually he would lower his mask to reveal his face, and then the mirror would shatter and she'd wake.
It got to the point where the dreams were so severe she refused to sleep and her grades dropped as a result. Her parents, not knowing what to do, sent her to a psychiatrist: Dr. Engelberg. She was nice enough. Listened to her. Put up with her drama. Even made her feel better about some insecurities she had as a teenager. But she never believed her. When she talked about the Labyrinth, Sarah always felt like some kind of test subject who's level of sanity was always being measured by how much she lied. She could tell the doctor was trying though, but when she started referring to her friends as imaginary, Sarah eventually stopped confiding in her with anything Labyrinth related.
Sarah wasn't sure how or why the Labyrinth managed to worm its way back into her life, her world. All she knew was that she was back under its grasp, and that she had to find Toby, then get them both the hell out of here. Although, she was uncertain of just how she was going to do all that.
One thing at a time Sarah, she told herself. And that meant first finding Toby.
Gathering what remained of her dignity, Sarah composed herself and unwilling turned to face whatever was in store for her.
After today's earlier incidents, Sarah was becoming increasingly high-strung. So, when she saw that the hall was now lined with doors and there was no end to the corridor she could see, it took a lot for her not to scream. Instead she opted to dig her nails into the palms of her hands, not only to relieve some of the panic, but also to help remind her that this time she wasn't dreaming.
When she recovered from her initial shock, Sarah started down the hallway taking tentative steps like she was afraid the very floor would disappear from under her.
"I guess that wasn't a cat I heard," she spoke wryly. "and that definitely wasn't Toby laughing," she said with a touch less humor.
Actually, now that she thought about it, she couldn't believe that she had been so oblivious as not to recognize goblins when she heard them. She could recall the distinct sound of their voices and how the air smelt like a mixture of wet dog and burnt toast whenever they were near. That she missed these hints confounded her. They were so glaringly obvious. She remembered first going into the house and detecting an odd odor. Then there was the scratching and the laughter. She hadn't heard noises like that since that night and no human could make those kinds of sounds. Everything pointed to goblins, she just refused to take notice. Maybe she was repressing. Like some kind of survival instinct.
When she started down the hall, there were identical doors on each side. They were the same color, size, and width apart. Although, the further she wandered Sarah noticed that every so often there would be something off about one of the doors. Simple things. Things that you would have to pay extra attention to see. One would be too wide. One would be too small. One would be a shade darker than the others.
Then their differences started becoming more noticeable. One would have no handle. Another would have two door knobs, sometimes side-by-side or sometimes on opposite corners. One was even an entirely different color from the rest. The doors started changing shape too. She passed one shaped as a large blue triangle, opposite to a round green one. There was also a red rectangular door, but it was positioned sideways so that if you wanted to get through it, you would have to climb up and over into it. Another door was so tiny Sarah wasn't sure if she could get two fingers inside it. Originally the doors were all made of the same wood. The longer she walked, though, the more she noticed doors made of oak or chestnut instead of mahogany. Some wouldn't be made out of wood at all, but of metals like bronze, copper, and brass.
Eventually, there came a point where no door resembled the originals. One in particular caught Sarah's attention.
She was drawn to it. Not because of it shape or size, but because it was made entirely out of ice. Even curiouser was that it wasn't melting. Not a single droplet of water. In fact, the door seemed as if it were somehow sustaining itself. Sarah approach it warily, making sure not to let the ice touch her flesh. As she inched closer she realized that the door was not just some block of ice. It had intricate details carved into its surface, so beautiful Sarah had to will herself not to trace the patterns with her fingertips. Small swirls began and then expanded, morphing into flowers and small creatures she had never seen the like of. The handle was also made of ice, which was woven so delicately, it was as if someone had bent the water to their will then frozen it in a single instant.
While studying the door, Sarah noticed small transparent regions in the ice allowing her to see through to the other side. Peering through a larger section she found in the middle, Sarah thought she could make out a faint orange glow. In an attempt to get a better look she moved as close as she could until her nose was only a hair's breadth away from the icy door. But as Sarah was looking past the ice, she saw a gigantic dark shape run past her line of vision, dimming the light on the other side of the door for only a moment. In her horror she reeled back, crashing into the opposite side of the hall and clamped her hands over her mouth to prevent herself from screaming.
With hands still tightly clasped around her mouth, Sarah slowly slid her body down the wall until she sat in a fetal position and watched as a small shadow in the ice grew so large that it became impossible to discern what it was or its true size.
She dared not move or breathe.
The shadow began to sniff at the base of the door, causing particles of ice to billow out around it. Sarah shut her eyes and hid her head between her knees, begging that whatever was behind the door wouldn't catch her scent. When it seemed her luck might have deserted her, Sarah noticed it had gone quiet and lifted her head to see the shadow shrinking in size and then disappear completely.
Releasing her hands from her mouth, she let out a choked sob. Relief quickly spread through her like fire and she couldn't help that small smile that formed on her lips as she tipped her head back against the wall.
The aftereffects of relief didn't last long. Sarah reminded herself that she needed to find Toby and get him home, and she wasn't going to do that sitting huddled in a hallway.
She sighed and tilted her head forward just in time to catch the shadow growing at a rapid rate and then hear a howl of pain accompanied by the cracking of ice.
Sarah wasted no time scrambling to her feet and dashing down the hall.
There were no turns or any means of escape if that thing managed to break through the ice—except for the doors. Considering her limited options, Sarah decided a door was her only choice. And just after she threw open a small brown one, she could hear the crashing of ice on hardwood as she pulled the door shut behind her.
A/N: This was written for the labyfic community challenge #13, Spooky-Goings-On
Disclaimer: I own nothing, not even a creepy old house filled with goblins or an endless hallway - pity.