You may notice that the formatting in this is trashed. I have no idea why it is appearing this way. I've tried to fix it, and it never works. So I'm sorry if it's a little hard to read. Blame

I was furious. Why the Winchester boys were spoken of so highly will forever be a mystery to me. My lip was bleeding, not to mention the gashes on my face, one of which was currently threatening to drip blood into my eye. I had had enough bruises to know
/that there were at least four big ones forming in various placeson my body, and I had small nicks and cuts on any inch of exposed skin. My leg was stinging from a scrape of unknown origin.

This was all evidence of what had just happened in an abandoned estate. I arrived three days ago, following stories of teenagers who had gone into said mansion perfectly fine, but had come outwith some very important organs missing. Yet it was only
/ever

the girls who went inside were unharmed (save for the psychological trauma).

I discovered the story behind the killings(a couple of slave-owners who liked to torture their "possessions". I guess this was a family tradition, because there had been rumors for as long as the name was known. The ghosts were not happy about the

abolition of slavery, and refused to set their slaves free, instead simply keeping them locked up inside. My research showed that the torturous experiments were such that they aretoogrotesque to ever think about

's justsay the removal oforgans was merciful in comparison. I'm not gonna lie, I went to bed thoroughly creeped out), but also thatthe bodies of the entire family had been cremated. Apparently, this was tosave space in the

personal graveyard notfar from

the house. Rich people were weird, and they still are, to be frank.

It took another two days for me to figure out the reason the crazy couple were able to stick around: a weird tradition where they put a single bone, something small like a vertebra or finger, into the samechest. What the research didn't tell me was where
/to find this treasure chest (an: note the sarcasm of "treasure"). This called for my favorite activity: searching a big ass house for a damn chest full of bones!

Fast forward to an hour before dark, whenI entered the house. I got all throughthe first floor: no bones, though an unrealistic number of things resembling chests. I ventured up the warped staircase, and was walking though the master bedroom(a masterbedroom?
/It was a big house, there was probably more than one) when I heard the front door open. I froze, hoping that the spiritsweren'tinto pretending they just got home from work. I tried to remember the floor

plan enough to plan the quickest escape if need be, but was interrupted by low voices. I crept to the doorway, peering out into the foyer. There was no one in my line of sight.

I decided that if it was a ghostly enemy, I'd know by now, and it was more important to locate the bones than to see what dumbass made the same decision as me to go inside. Any kids would be safer the faster I burned the remains, anda woman alone

/wouldn't attract the attention of the ghosts, somy search continued.