hm hm
2.
You steady your arm, clutching the barrel of the gun closer toward your chest. The house is dark and dusty from unhabitance, and the stone floor is cold under your worn shoes. Pain thrums steadily from the surely mottled purple that is your ankle, but you only allow yourself to limp slightly, biting into your cheek to stifle your gasps.
It's when you step out into the hallway that you glance to your left and catch a glimpse of it out of the corner of your eye. Whirling around, you let loose a round of rock-salt. It buries itself into the wallpaper curled walls without incident, and you're left wondering.
But only for a moment.
You turn and come face to face with it, your heart stuttering in mute panic.
Vertical from the ceiling is a boy, and he almost looks to be your brother's age. Radioactive eyes bore into your own, and your breath clouds the space between your faces as the seconds tick by. The gun is useless in your hands when it is already so close to your person.
He's assessing me, you realize as the ghost's eyes narrow to slits after what seems to be an eternity.
Your mouth opens but the entire structure shakes at the same moment, the walls of the mansion throwing dust everywhere. You gag as you inhale in shock, coughing as the dust invaded your airways.
The boy's eyes go impossibly wide.
"You need to leave," the spirit says, eyes trained to something behind you, voice distant and far-reaching," You need to leave now."
You turn.
There's another ghost further down the hall, eyes of blood rubies, and the gun drops from your hands. A orb of vibrant pink is festering in its hand, throwing the hall's shadows wickedly, and you take a small step back.
Wood cracks from somewhere behind you, unmistakable as the sound of a wooden door being kicked open.
"Sam!"
The world ends in pink hell-fire.