Crouching down until you're knees are almost touching the floor, you creep towards the top of the stairs. Peeking down, the cavernous hallway seems dark and desolate save for a narrow streak of moonlight shining through the windows above the front door. Two doors, besides the front door, give access to two more chambers on the ground floor: the living room and the smoke room. And it is of this room, the smoke room, that the door remains open just a little bit, and just at the moment that you are peeking down into the hallway, a small piece of white fabric disappears through it.


Though your heart is pounding in your chest and you knees are shaking visibly, you decide to brave your fears and descend the staircase. As soon as you put weight on the top step the staircase creaks and cracks, loud enough to shake your resolve and wake all the demons in hell itself. However, you decide to brave onwards. Step by step, creak by creak, you more or less succeed in descending the staircase safely.


As your feet finally touch the stone tiles on the hallway's floor you let out a quick sigh of relief. As you survey your surroundings you wonder why you ever continued to live in a mansion that just screams 'HAUNTED'. An old chandelier, made suitable for electric lighting long ago, softly sways from the ceiling, its lights darkened. The faces of your ancestors stare blankly at you from their respective stately portraits which overlook the staircase you just descended. The grey moonlight which shines through the few windows around the grand, wooden, doors gives them an even more dead like pallor.


The uneasy silence which envelops your home has not yet lifted, and yet you could swear that you hear floorboards cracking in the smoke room. This is, of course, a preposterous thought. You are all alone in this house, and have been for many months now. Who else could be wandering these halls? To still the beating of your heart, you think to yourself: 'Tis probably some rodent wandering in these darkened halls, sheltering from an animal or looking for food. P...'


But before you finish your thoughts a cold winds blows through the crack in the doorway. Suddenly shivers run down your spine and you can feel your knees start to tremble once more. While fear starts to fill your mind once more, you decide to...

You enter the living room

As you enter the living room, you do not see anything out of the ordinary. The sitting corner around the fireplace, the dining table, the china cabinets, all are in their right places, though thoroughly caked with dust. Yet something does not feel right. Though the wind is howling outside, and snowflakes are clouding the windows, you do not feel cold. The Winter wind, creeping through the cracks in the large window frames, chills you to the core. 


Outside, the snowflakes slowly start to cake the large windows. Once providing you with a view of your beautiful gardens, they now look out over a deserted and desolate landscape, fog and snow hiding everything from your eyes in the pale moonlight. While you are looking outside, you feel a tingle creeping up your spine, as if the shadows are watching you. Slowly, softly, you start to hear voices behind you. Slowly strengthening, they appear as if they are shouting. 


Thoroughly scared, you turn around. The living room has changed. Still dark, illuminated only by the pale moonlight and some sparse candles, it has shaken off its age. The atmosphere has changed as well, no longer freezing cold, but sultry, like a cool Spring evening. 


In front of you, two people have appeared, ghastly pale, and shimmering with an otherworldly light. A young man and woman, locked in a heavy argument. You recognise the woman as Lenore, the light of your life, your eternal love, yet her face is clouded by tears. The young man, surprisingly, you recognise as yourself, yet a younger version of you, not yet weighed down by devastating sadness and loss. Your face is twisted into a mask of wrath. 


'Don't you dare lie to me, you cuccolding harlot!' You hear yourself scream. 'Tell me who that man was, tell me what he was doing here, in our house!'. 


Tearfully, choking on the words, Lenore replies the younger you: 'I told you already, he is an old acquaintance of mine. Please, my love, come back to your senses. You know how much I love you, you know...'


'Hold your tongue, lying serpent, don't lead me on with your lies any longer. You cannot deceive me, I know what happened here.'


Sobbing harder and harder, Lenore can barely answer you; 'I swear... I swear my love. Y... You know me, you know I would never... never hurt you like this. Please, I beg you, you have to believe me.' 


Lenore desperately throws herself at the younger you, yet you push her away. Lenore flies backwards, and bangs her head against the dining table, a small splatter of blood appearing beneath her head. However, she has not lost consciousness, and tearfully, hiding her face in her hands, runs out of the room. You hear yourself shouting out in anger and despair, and see yourself sitting down at the table, sighing heavily.


CAW CAW CAW 


The scene fades away into nothingness, and you're left looking at your old, neglected piano. Silence once more fills the room, broken by the periodic howling of the wind outside. A shadow flies past the snow-clouded window. In the middle of the cold, lonely room, you feel a dark shadow grip at your heart at the memory of that wretched day. The room grows darker as heavy clouds move in front of the moon. 


CAW CAW CAW


That dreadful noise sounds once more, and you feel your nerves shattering. An illogical fear clouds your mind, and you run for the nearest door.

You continue...

With your heart pounding in your chest, you pull the door closed behind you. Slowly, you slide down the door, knees trembling, until you firmly sitting on the ground, with your arms around your knees. You look around, and notice that in your frightened haste, you ran into the kitchen. Though it isn't very large, at least not for a mansion like yours, it still holds a few cupboards and cabinets, a couple of stoves and some sinks. An arrangement of kitchen knives adorns one of the walls, and trapdoors in the floor give access to the cold storage rooms below. Everything is as dusty and mouldy as the rest of the house. Yet the funny thing is, you cannot remember when the last time was you prepared food here, or even ate at all. 


CAW CAW CAW


In the living room, you can hear that dreadful sound that drove you here in the first place. Yet now, while resounding within your ears, it also changes your surroundings. Dust and mould vanish in front of your eyes, and the smell of food assaults your nostrils, making your mouth water slightly. You stand up to examine your surroundings, yet the first thing you notice is a familiar shape standing in front of one of the stoves. 


In your hand, you spot a vial, filled with a clear liquid. Stirring into a pot with unknown contents, you slowly and deliberately empty the vial until there is not a single drop left. All the while, you look around you suspiciously, as if anticipating someone, or something, walking in on you. You put the vial back into the inner pocket of your jacket, just as you, the real you, hear a door behind you open. 


With a straight face, not a trace of surprise on it, the younger you addresses someone behind you: 'Ah, Alfred, I was wondering where you were. I see dinner is ready then? Excellent. As you might have noticed, the uhm... precarious situation between me and Lenore has not exactly improved, so she'll probably be eating in her quarters again.' A look of concern passes across the younger you's face. 'And please, Alfred, could you tell her I love her? Could you tell her I am begging her to come back to me.'


CAW CAW CAW


With a shock, you realise the kitchen has changed back to how it was, dusty and mouldy, and decidedly abandoned. However, in the corner of your eye, you can see a shadow shifting past the ceiling. A rain of feathers, each single one of them as black as the darkest night, rains down from above. Wings flutter above you, but within the darkness of the kitchen, you cannot spot the source. 


Then, a window in the kitchen's corner shatters, giving the Winter's gale free leave to thunder into the room. You see the knives on the walls start to rattle. From the ceiling, a raven drops down into your field of vision, as dark as the abyss, and looking at you with a gaze containing the depths of Tartarus. 


Tendrils of ice grasp at your mind, and the weakness in your knees starts to return. With your heart pounding in your throat, you cannot but stare at this winged shadow. Suddenly, it flies towards you. Its hypnotic spell broken, you feel control over your limbs returning to you. As quick as you can, you open the kitchen's door and run back to the living room. The raven, however, continues to pursue you with amazing speed, and you run through the room until you are back in the hallway, pulling the door closed behind you, and holding it closed with all your might.

You continue...

Only when your knuckles start to turn white, and the cool, brass doorknob is warm and slippery from your sweaty hands, you dare to let go. The hallway looks as desolate as when you last set foot in it, the portraits of your ancestors still staring at you with icy intent.


Behind you, in the living room, you can hear the sound of breaking glass, and, moments later, you hear the same sound upstairs, in your library. That beast, that demon who has been your tormentor this entire evening, is surely there. Yet despite your fear, even despite your curiosity, you feel compelled to go upstairs. An icy grip envelops your heart, and practically drives you to move up the stairs, and enter your library. 


Yet, a shimmer of defiance is still present within the foggy depths of your mind. A rational fear, a fear of everything inside your house, everything you've encountered this evening. Though the staircase looms in front of you, you are aware of the large, oaken front door behind you. Why should you stay in this house of sadness and fear? Why would you give in to the demons that are tormenting you, while an option of freedom is so close within your reach? 


The icy grip of fear still firmly holding your heart, your knees trembling at the thought of even setting one more step, you finally make a decision to...