Stacy woke abruptly as if someone had screamed in her ear. As she came to, she heard that someone was actually screaming. She sprang up and saw out the front window that they had reached their destination. An old cottage style inn, standing in the middle of nowhere. In the front of the entrance stood an old wooden cart, white daisy's hanging over the edge. The shackled walls on the outside were entwined with vine and blanketed with green moss. It was two stories high and all the windows were nailed closed with planks of wood, some simply smashed. A wooden sign near the entrance said 'Riverdale lodges'.

Another piercing scream made Stacy stop admiring the scene.

She jumped out of the car to find the others.

Stacy had expected it to turn out to be a nice day. However, as she drew nearer, shadows from the dark clouds that loomed overhead lingered on the balconies and around the dying daisies. It looked far more threatening than from in the car.

As Stacy burst through the entrance into the dark and cold lobby to find her friends, she noted that there was no receptionist…or anyone around for that matter.

It looked as if no one had tended to this place for years. Dust filled cobwebs invaded the high vaulted ceiling and the sour, musty smell of mould and wet wood stung her nose. Why would her friends, Trish especially as she was quite high maintenance, choose such a place to stay?

She climbed up the spiral staircase and turned down a long, dim corridor. It looked a lot bigger on the inside. Perhaps it was because it was so dark.

She cautiously made her way down the hall on the un-polished, marble tiles. Uncomfortably aware that her heels were making too much noise, she stopped and leaned against the wall. Her palms were wet. Stacy held her breath as she brushed the sweaty tresses off the back of her neck.

A distant cry could be heard. It sounded almost muffled. However, Stacy knew it was a woman's. She didn't care anymore, she couldn't just stand there.

Running blindly down the dark tunnel, a scream pierced the silence. It lapsed into sobs of tortured pain. Stacy froze on the spot. The cries continued to echo in the heavy air, becoming louder with each passing minute.

Stacy felt her legs collapse beneath her as she struggled to breathe. She slowed down her breathing and sat against the wall.

There were no screams now. Nothing except thick silence.

Stacy caught her breath and slowly got to her feet.

The sounds of dripping water pipes rattled inside the walls.

She saw ahead that a strip of golden light was emitting from under a door.

Stacy heard a door creak open behind her. Fast footsteps were approaching. Stacy turned around and saw nothing.

She ran to the door as the footsteps behind her quickened. Desperately she wrenched it open, slammed it shut and clicked the lock.

The footsteps stopped suddenly, and did not start again. Stacy had a feeling that whoever it was, was outside waiting.

She turned in a panic to find a way out. This room was darker than the rest of the house, except for the golden light that cut through a plank of rotting wood and drenched the crimson carpet in tiny red rubies.

There was hardly any furniture, apart from a few boxes, a wooden bedside table and a phone that lay sprawled along the maroon floor- its wires had been cut.

Stacy heard slow, deep breaths from behind the door. She turned around slowly and almost screamed.

The plastered wall facing her was slashed with blood in the form of writing.

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