A few days ago, my friends and I decidedto go gohst hunting in an old building, a few strets away from my house. At first, I wasn't reailly fond of the idea of exploring a "haunted" asylum that had been abandoned almost a century ago, but eventually I gave in.
I a mnot really the type of person to believe in ghost stories, so I didn't think much of it when i heard a weird noise coming from the house behind me. I put my freezing hands in my pockets. Where were those idiots? It was already a quarter past three! Just then, I heard another noise coming from the house. Feeling curious, I turned around and saw a light flicker from an upstairs room. Think logically. It must be a flaslight from some other group of idiots "ghost hunting". Our idea was not that original. Then, I heard a crash and the lights started flickering frantically from the room as before. Did someone get hurt?
I decided to chek if everything was okay. It doesn't matter if the dudes are dumb, they dont deserve to get crashed by that old wreck. As soon as I stepped foot in the old hallway, I started coughing viollently as I inhaled a handfull of dust. My eyes started watering and an invisible hand was cluching on my lungs. I stepped back outside to get a breath of fresh air. I felt instantly better. I didn't want to get back inside. But I had to. What if a person was trapped in there? I couldn't bear to live with that guilt. I opened the door carefully this time, and took a peek inside. I got chills down my spine from the dark rooms and destroyed furniture, but decided to ignore it. At the end of the hall I could see a flight of stairs that should be leading to the upstairs floor. I started heading towards it. Shouldn't I have heard something, anything by now? Was that other person okay? Suddenly, I heard another crash fro upstairs. I looked up and started screaming. Frozen with fear, I watched as the ceiling crushed me and burried me deep in the ground.
I watched, exhausted from the screams that were never heard, as everyone was screaming for my name. My friends arrived first. Then the firemen, the police, the paramedics. Lastly my family. I couldn't answer to them. A piece of wood was impaling my throat, not allowing my voice to reach them. I must have also had a similar piece of wood crushing my lungs and my whole upper body. I couldn't move. So I waited. I had all the time I wanted now anyway. Although I was not so comfortable with the ants eating my skin and flesh, and my body beeing pushed deeper and deeper every single day, I refused to leave this body. They woyld find me. They had to find me.
RIGHT?
