You run your hand across the rotten wood, careful to avoid the rusting nails jabbing out at irregular intervals. There’s a smell of moss and musty closets.
The air is icy and dry, causing puffs of mist to materialise in front of your face whenever you exhale.
You take cautious steps across the uneven floor, narrowly avoiding the gaping gaps in the floorboards.
Adrenaline is pumping through every inch of your body, elevating your heart rate and making every sense sharper. Every breath, every footstep, every scuttle the rats make. You can hear it all.
A clatter behind you. Metal on metal. You walk quicker, pushing yourself through the wispy cobwebs.
Falling. Suddenly falling to the ground, as though the floor had been pulled out from under you.
Unimaginable pain shoots through your nerves. Then darkness as you are consumed by the house. Just another victim.