Haunting of Whitsford

Ghost Time

Shane has been looking down hallways and through doors for twenty minutes looking for any sign of a treasure, any sign of out of place gold. All while he's avoiding the show at all costs of course. Listening to the team in a room down the twisted halls was like hearing a shrill noise at the end of a maze. He couldn't find them if he wanted to. Alone with his thoughts and a trusty flashlight aaaaaannnd...dead. He stares at the flashlight as it dims out. Shane unscrews the cap to find the batteries ice cold, so he slips them out to check for corrosion or any signs of disruption, when the flashlight turns on again. Without the batteries. Then off. Then back on. It turns on and off and back on faster and faster, until a huge hiss erupts from it and it goes dead. "Too freaky." Shane mutters to himself. Naturally, he keeps walking, it seemed logical atleast. Shane keeps heading down the "abandoned" halls, unaware of the family portraits looking at him. Or the man in the velvet chair in the corner. Wait. Man? Shane spins around as fast as possible. No one. Not even a trace. At this point Shane wants to curl up in a ball and cry for help, but he's way too curious at this point. It has to be a prank from his dad or something, payback for the constant nagging he assumes. Shane looks around frantically, when his eyes lay on a body...his dad's body...motionless...