Ollie runs in excitedly, with you walking in behind him. He has two matching blue aprons in his hand. The more girly, frilly one is handed to you. Oliver smiles wide when he sees you put it on. "Hey, can you tie it for me?" You ask Ollie, turning around.

"Of course, poppet!" Oliver chirps, hopping over to you. He takes the two straps and ties them into a bow on your lower back. He then puts on his apron and ties it himself.

'I need I learn how to do that,' you think to yourself. You look at his apron. It's the same color as yours, except it is stained with flour and... Red stuff? It is a brownish-red smear on the lower left side of the apron. 'It's probably just red dye,' you reassure yourself.

"Well, poppet? What's your answer?" Ollie asks you with a smile.

"Huh? Sorry, I was daydreaming," you admit; a little embarrassed.

"I asked you what kind of cuppycakes you wanted to make. We can make special cuppycakes, or we can make normal cuppycakes," Oliver says with a wide grin.

"What's the difference?" You ask, intrigued.

"Oh, nothing really. I just add one more ingredient to the special cuppycakes," he replies happily.

"Oh, well then, let's make the special ones," you say to him with a happy smile.

"Ooh, goodie!" His British voice exclaims.

You and Oliver get started on the batter. Oliver pulls flour out from a cupboard above the granite counter. You go over to the fridge and pull out a carton of eggs, then you remove two and put the rest back. You also take out a carton of milk. You set the ingredients on the kitchen table.

The two of you end up having cocoa powder, eggs, milk, sugar, salt, baking powder, and a variety of other ingredients for the cupcakes on the table. Oliver pulls out some measuring cups and spoons from a drawer under the counter. You and him make the batter in a matter of minutes, thanks to your great teamwork. He starts to put things in a bowl to make the frosting, but stops when almost everything needed is in.

He looks over to you and smile his signature big grin. "Poppet, can you finish mixing this stuff up for me?I have to go get the special ingredient for the icing from the basement," Ollie states, setting the cups on the table.

"Sure. But, why is it in the basement?" You wonder.

"That's because it has to be in a certain place or it'll go bad. The basement is perfect for it," Oliver replies in a happy tone.

"Okay, Ollie," you reply with a smile. Oliver turns and skips out of the kitchen door. You see him turn the corner and you can hear keys jingling in a keyhole.

'I wonder why he locks it...' You think to yourself. You decide to walk out and see why.

You see the door to the basement was slightly opened, and there was a sliver of dim light peaking through the crack. Your steps are slow and cautious. You're most likely not allowed in the basement, so you don't want to be caught. Ollie can't be heard from the top of the steps, he's probably on the far side of the basement.

You slowly reach for the handle of the door. The metal handle is cool to the touch. You don't turn it; it's already open, you just pull slowly. The door doesn't make a sound as it swings open. The light you seen is a single bulb, covered in dust, on the wall. You look at the stairs. They're old and wooden, and the dark green paint on them is slowly chipping away. The door at the bottom appears to be closed, and there is a small light coming from under the door.

'A candle, maybe...?' You think, noticing the light under the door wave and flicker. You tiptoe down the old steps, trying your hardest to keep quiet. All other times you have walked were so quiet, but this, is particularly complicated. The steps must have been used for many years, you can tell by how the green paint looks to be covering another paint job. But the paint under the chipped green doesn't look like paint at all. It's blotchy and horribly done. The color is a brownish-red. Is that...?

'Nah,' your mind dismisses the idea of the redness being blood. 'They're good people. I've known them for so long, haven't I?' Your mind ponders this for a moment before you continue down the stairs. The stairs creak slightly at your light steps. You can still hear nothing from the other side of the door where Ollie is. 'I wonder what's taking him so long...' You wonder.

You go down about fifteen steps before reaching the bottom. The door is painted, what was probably once white, but is now an ugly grayish((greyish, for those of you in the UK)) color. You wonder why Ollie doesn't decide to make it fabulous, painting it pink and blue with cupcakes on it. Well, he probably wants to, but just doesn't have the time. Your hand reaches out to the doorknob, still no sign of Ollie from the other side of the door.

Your hand touches an old brass knob. It had been weathered down; it is covered in scratches and dust. Only the shape of a hand around it is not filled with dust, that's where Ollie probably put his hand earlier. You turn the knob slowly...

It clicks. You push the door open slowly revealing a small room with almost nothing in it. The only furniture is a small shelf with some books that haven't been read in years on it. On top of it-it's only about three feet tall- is a candle stick in a metal holder. The small flame is making your shadow dance across the room. Your (e/c) eyes glance to the opposite side of the room where a slightly opened door resides. You can't see anything in the dark room, but you can hear... A squishing sound? Your eyebrows furrow in confusion and curiosity.

Your legs almost act on their own, and they start marching you to the door. The door is open enough so you can peek one eye in. What you see is hard to make out, your eyes haven't adjusted to the darkness quite yet. You can somewhat see a person standing in front of a table. There is a large lump of something on it, but you can't tell what it is. You decide that Ollie's probably almost done with whatever he's doing, and you know you don't want to be caught.

You turn to head upstairs but you trip over your ankle. You fall, making an 'oomph' sound. The weird noises from the room behind you stop in their tracks. You hear a shuffling of fabric, like someone's taking something off. Then footsteps walk towards you.

This is all happening so quick, you don't even have enough time to stand up properly. You only got to your knees, like in a crawling position almost.

You turn your head slowly. You know that you must be in trouble for snooping around. Your eyes look up to the person behind you. You see an odd looking Ollie. He looks... Mad. Not mad like angry, but like crazy. His bright blue irises are swirled with a few pink circles. His smile isn't sweet like normal, but insane.

A long moment of silence passes before he finally speaks. "What did you see?" He bends over and gets closer to your face, his arms are folded behind his back. His smile does not waver a bit.

"Nothing!" You spit out a little too quickly. You sounded guilty, but you were just scared.

"Are you suuuuuurre?" Ollie says as he gets extremely close to your face. If he got any closer he'd touch your cheek with his nose.

"I-I'm positive!" You stutter out. Ollie's being a little too creepy for your taste right now.

"I don't think you are, poppet," Ollie says in his British accent. He stands up straight again and walks so he is introns of you. He reaches his hand down, offering it out to you. You reluctantly accept it and you stand up.

What happens next, you could have never imagined.