(Hey, guys!

I don't have the story planned out, meaning I don't know how to begin it, how long it's going to be, etc. However, I will be making some time to work on this fic and officially kick it off!

This "chapter" is just a preview, a sneak-peek in what my story is going to contain. I' am planning on using this scene in my story, so you're actually getting a look at the actual fic.

Like I said before, my story is a work-in-progress, so please bare with me. I have no idea when I'm going to start updating new and official chapters to the story, but here's a tiny portion of it!

Enjoy :) )

"Hey, Jack?"

"Mark? I'm coming!"

The Irishman ran down the long hallway, stopped halfway, and poked his head through an open doorway where he heard the source of Mark's voice. Taking a look around the room, he realized that it was empty except for streaks of dust and ash lying on the floor and a fireplace against the opposite side of the room. The sickly-yellow wallpaper was peeling, exposing the rotting wood boards which act as a structure for the walls. The atmosphere was dim; the only sources of light was coming from Jack's and Mark's flashlights. Seeing his friend's back turned towards him, Jack trotted over to where he was kneeling on the ground, inspecting the empty and dark fireplace.

His face merely inches away from the dusty stone bricks at the back of the fireplace, Mark glided his fingers along the cold surface. After a moment, he took his hands back and observed them, noting a dry, deep-colored crimson smear across his fingertips.

"It's blood."

"What?" Jack slightly cocked his head and squatted down next to Mark, the floor creaking under his weight. He peered into the fireplace and looked above him. The chimney, which should have been open with a clear night sky glistening upon them, led to a dead end and instead was storing black charcoal dust in the air. Suddenly feeling claustrophobic in such a small and grimy place, he glanced where Mark was staring at. He raised his eyebrows as he noticed the red stain on Mark's palms.

"Where did you find that?" He asked, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck standing up.

Mark focused his attention to Jack and gestured to the wall of the fireplace. "Here. The entire fireplace is covered in dried blood. There's even a faint smell of it around here."

Jack sniffed the air, immediately regretting the action. There was a hint of iron and rust floating around them, yet it was too much to take in all at once. The gut feeling deep inside him growing, Jack felt the need to back away from the fireplace.

"It smells like there was a bloodbath here", Jack whispered, anxiously drumming his fingers on his knees.

Mark nervously chewed his lower lip and wiped his dirty hands on his jeans. He wracked in his brain for a rational explanation for this discovery, to provide a scientific answer instead of looking for supernatural suggestions, but due to what has happened so far to the both of them, this wouldn't be the worst they have found, nor the most absurd event up to this point.

A sudden, large clang out in the hallway interrupted the silence in the room and made the guys' heads whip around, both staring at the leaking darkness from the hallway into the room. Holding their breaths, they listened as some shuffling made its way to their room, as well as ghastly moaning. Whoever was outside their room sounded demonic, and the men were not eager to wait and see who was coming for them.

Mark let out a small breath, despite the fact that his heart was racing at what felt like many miles per hour. The familiar feeling of adrenaline was coursing through his veins, making him fidget here and there. His throat felt like it was closing up, his blood roaring in his ears. As much as he wanted to stay calm, his body wouldn't listen to his mind and is instead practically bouncing on his legs from the sudden burst of edginess.

He peered at Jack's expression and saw his blue eyes had widened in terror. His pale jaw was clenched tight and he had stopped tapping against his legs. His shoulders had gotten stiff and his arms trembled slightly. His back pressed against the wall, it looked like he was trying to make himself disappear into it.

Mark knew exactly what his friend was feeling: fear; and it was not only because whatever was out there could be the most horrifying ghost they have ever seen, but it was because the sense of dread settling into their minds, the uncomfortable suspense hanging in the air, knowing that there was no way out or a place to hide in their surroundings.

They felt like they would soon be part of the bloodshed that happened in the very place they are cowering in.