Halloween Party; phan

2:14pm

Some of the trees were silent, sentient guardians around him, hiding him from any threats of the outside world. He stared at them, wondering if they sensed him at all, and if they thought he was worthy of their protection.

Which was stupid, because trees couldn't think. Hopefully.

"This is mad creepy," Chris said, standing at the edge of the clearing they were in. He kept looking behind him, paranoid that something was following them and making Dan roll his eyes with protests of going back. "I feel like something bad is gonna happen, and no one will ever see us again."

"You know, you've been begging me to do this for last two years," Dan pointed out. "What happened to fearless 16-year-old Chris, who jumped down a well and broke an ankle for ten pounds?"

"He got anxiety and ADHD."

The sun was trying desperately to shine through the trees, but the thick foliage blocked most of the light. "We're almost there, hurry up."

It wasn't like he spent a lot of time trekking through forests, especially not in skinny jeans and sneakers, but he was feeling restless in his own skin and he needed to do something.

And what was more entertaining than trying to find a ghost?

"You know, this is how all of those shitty horror movies start," Chris rambled on from beside him. "Two over confident teenagers who have literally no defense skills at all trying to hunt ghosts and end up slaughtered in the woods and don't get found for, like, a month."

"We'll finally be on T.V. though," Dan said. "See, silver lining."

"Why am I friends with you?"

After twenty minutes of ducking low-hanging branches and avoiding mysterious puddles, they finally stepped into an overgrown patch of land. Dan flicked on his flashlight and pointed it ahead of him. About thirty feet away was an old, derelict house covered in crawling vines.

He took a deep breath and slowly made his way towards it. There was a small pit in his stomach, making him uneasy, but curiosity made him keep moving.

"If we die, I really hope no one goes through my phone," Chris said. Their footsteps creaked eerily on the worn wooden porch, and they both stared at the very uninviting door in front of them. "Well. Geronimo."

The dim light of the trees paled dramatically to the darkness inside. Dan held his breath unconsciously, not want anyone, or anything, to know he was here. He didn't even believe in ghosts, but he believed in fear; it made his blood rush through his veins.

"Where do you want to start?" He asked quietly, sweeping the light through the room they were in. It was big, full of dust and sheet covered objects that seemed to move in the corner of his eye. "Basement?"

"Hell no." Chris took a few steps towards a hallway to the right. "Let's go down here, it's where most of the other rooms are."

There were a lot of stories about this house. Most of them were made up for more hype, but some were true. People had died here, it was on the news, and it was the only interesting thing that had ever happened in this town.

Dan paused, letting the light stop on a dark stain on the wall. "Think that's blood?"

Chris came over to inspect it. "Could be. Or, like, cranberry juice."

"Who the fuck is bringing cranberry juice to a haunted house?"

A loud thud made them jump. Dan flicked the flashlight off quickly, hoping that whoever, or whatever, hadn't already spotted them.