Robert shivered as his mother towed him into the massive beast of a building. Its twisted bones and mass of fragmented eyes welcomed him too sweetly, and the warm light of its belly was too calming considering the dark spirits on the rise. Ghosts surrounded him on all sides, delighting in their colorful murder. With bludgeons and swords, they painted the walls vermilion as if it were their religion. But the most frightening ghost of all, and the most substantial, was a young man whose eyes clamped onto Robert as soon as the boy stepped inside. Dripping blood upon the alter, the ghost laughed as mortals licked the table clean and achingly begged for more. They tore large lumps of flesh from his body and devoured them ravenously, never fully appeased. The choir sang “Violent Night, Holy Night”, and captivating as it was, Robert couldn't stand another verse while the ghosts closed in. He ran from the building, bawling, but a man dressed in black stopped him on the stairs.
“Peace be with you, son,” he said and Robert scoffed.
“I'll have peace as soon as I get away from here. I don't know what my mom was thinking. She knows I hate haunted houses.”