ghost n' boast

prologue

The curly haired boy held his breath as he stepped foot into the decrepit forlorn home. Despite it not being his first time here, he found himself taken aback by how different things were. He pulled out his handmade map they'd been working on the past few months, the sense of bitterness he felt reading over the other handwriting for a moment took over his sense of fear.

His head began to fill with questions he never had to ask before when with company. Had it always been this cold? Was the silence and stillness of this house always so deafening? Was that knock off Mona Lisa always there? These inquiries both distracted and heightened his sense of dread even more. His thoughts only interrupted between the crunches of the broken glass underneath his feet.

The stairs were the easiest part to get past, it was what came after that left his knees weak. Once you were on the second floor it meant that the way back out was always harder, back when he'd first started his ventures into the "Vladamir's house" just getting to the top of the stairs was worth celebration alone.

Usually this would be the part where he would turn back, or more so dragged back, and even when they would manage this point they'd usually make it up to a fallen chandelier that acted like a warning not to tread the waters further.

But instead he found himself fueled by hollow brazenness, the hallway was plagued with cheap wallpaper that rolled down, the smell of wither and rot burned his nostrils.

The house was the oldest in the town which meant it was built with the most confusing choices of architecture. It always stood out amongst the template following 'milk-carton' like houses that now dominate the suburbs .The boy was sure there were at least a dozen hidden passageways and trapped doors but due to never pursuing them further they remained as theories.

He pulled out his phone, the light from the screen highlighting the thick musk of the house. The air was almost miasmic, causing the walls of the upper floor to look like they were shifting and seething. The fumes he was running on, that kept him going further were running low.

No texts, not a single missed call, not even a snapchat. The snap ghost was silent.

The boy was tempted to send another message, but from the lack or responses from the last dozen gave him the hint. His face twisted into a grimace that was a mix of anger and hurt. He stopped below a halfway broken arch in the hallway. It didn't take long for the acute awareness of his aloneness to set in.

"I should just go back." He muttered.

To his shock when he turned his phone off he was surrounded in darkness, much darker than before, the windows were lifeless and dark as if it was night time already. He checked his phone again this time greeted by a blank screen not responding to any of his commands.

The creaking and croaking of the house grew louder and louder as he continued down the hallway, the heaviness of the situation weighing down his steps. He could swear that he could see his own breath.

A slam echoed through the hall, he turned his head and it seemed as if it elongated behind him, whether it was the darkness or something else he couldn't decide nor did he waste time trying too. The scrawny boy dashed further down, the sounds of the long rusted picture frames and furniture falling behind him. Everything seemed to shake and rumble around him, yet the only thing he could hear besides the falling objects was the drumming of his heart.

He stumbled a bit, nicking his hand on the jagged splits of the exposed wooden wall that he leaned on to stop himself from falling. Despite it all he desperately scurried and thrashed.

Without a second thought, he threw himself into the opening at the end of the hall. He was faced with another stairwell- and paused but after feeling the violent shaking increase he crawled his way up there. With a final push forward, he managed to stagger up to the attic.

When he reached it, he was met with something he wasn't expecting.

It was a simple and still room. Not as decrepit as the rest of the building, in fact it was quite intact and quaint. Even if he didn't want to, even if he felt the better part of his brain telling him not to do so- he felt his body relax as he heaved to steady his breath.

But before he could collapse from exhaustion, the floor beneath did.