We stood in the room for a while, rummaging through crates and sacks for a flashlight, a lantern, anything that might help us navigate the labyrinth we'd fallen into. Oddly enough, we could only find two things in the room: barrel faucets, and a seemingly limitless supply of money, most of which seemed nearly ancient.
After digging through what must have been the twentieth bag full of old bills, I started to feel greedy. Surely, whoever had lived here didn't care about keeping their home in good condition. "If they're going to misuse their money, I might as well take it and put it to good use. It's only a few dollars, I'm sure they won't mind," I thought. I couldn't have possibly imagined how wrong I was.
I picked up a wad of bills and stuffed them into my right pocket. I went for a second handful, and shoved them into my left pocket. My mother took my lead, and started reaching for the money we'd scattered on the floor. Before long, we were stuffing our shoes, socks, and shirts with as much money as we could fit.
Suddenly, an ear-shattering slam flew from behind us. I turned around, only to hear the a horrifying noise: a heavy bolt lock, sliding into place. Before I had a chance to scream, our candle blew out. We were trapped in the darkness.