Into the mansion (1)

Slowly creeping towrds the iron wrought, oak doors, they are taller than you. And they swing open before you even touch them; creaking enough to wake the skeletons in the grave yard in the back garden. The rats scampered away, their eyes glinting like candles of pure evil. Cautiously stepping up the carpeted, ancient stairs, you feel someting warm, wet and sticky covering your hand. It's red and flowing all the way down the banister. This time you can't help but let out a scream. And something stirs upstairs.

Ever slowly, further and further, you are curious, you have to know whats up  there. At last you reach a door. Carefully you turn the rusted knob....

The End

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