Disclaimer: Danny Phantom and all related characters are the product of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon studios. Kat/Electra, the Ghost Master, and all related characters are the product Silent Elegy.
"You go in."
"No, you go in."
"You go in."
"No, you go in."
"Dude! You go in."
"Dude, no! You go in."
Behind the two boys, their girlfriends exchanged irritated glances. This was supposed to have been a nice quiet evening at the Nasty Burger followed by a movie and maybe a quick trip to Lover's Lane. Instead, they found themselves standing outside 917 Maple Street in the freezing cold at close to midnight.
Finally deciding that enough was more than enough, one of the girls stepped between the two boys and shoved them apart. "I'll go in," she said, her voice dripping with contempt. The other girl followed right behind her to spare the boys a scornful glare.
They walked boldly up the path; neither believed the rumor that the place was haunted. It was difficult to live in Amity Park and not believe in ghosts, but they managed to be skeptical nonetheless. It made it easy when the only report of ghostly activity was from a pair of homeless drunks.
One of the girls thought she something move in a window and chalked it up to an overactive imagination. The other reached out to put her hand on the doorknob.
Suddenly, a high-pitched, squeaky squawk blared from somewhere within, and all four teenagers froze. When no other noise was forthcoming, they grinned nervously at each other and started to open the door. Once again, they were stopped, this time by the sound of a scale playing on a piano.
"No ghosts, huh?" one of the boys whispered, trying to sound brave. His girlfriend opened her mouth to respond, and the opening strains of "When the Saints Go Marching" started to play on a harmonica. She screamed and ran down the path.
The other girl watched her go with a worried frown, then set her jaw and pushed the door open the rest of the way. Inside, it was dusty, musty, and smelled of mold. Abandoned spider webs hung alongside forgotten Halloween decorations. A nearby table held an old candelabrum with the candles still in occupancy. As the three kids watched, the wicks burst into flame. With a strangled cry, a boy followed his girlfriend in fleeing.
The candelabrum floated into the air as a Dixieland band played a slow march. The girl shook her head dubiously. "Mark, is that you?"
Her boyfriend sighed in relief, latching onto that perfectly reasonable explanation. "Yeah, dude. You got us. Now, knock it off."
A whisper echoed across the foyer; it sounded like someone saying, "Run."
The two teens backed away. "Mark, it's not funny anymore!" the girl called.
The music changed suddenly to a loud and random cacophony of squeals and squawks. A breeze picked up inside the building that blew out the candles moments before they were thrown hard at the kids' feet. The girl screamed and ran after her two friends, followed closely by the boy and a voice that screeched with laughter.