||[Jun. 23rd, 2011|05:00 pm]
Tone: Mostly serious, but comedic bits are more than welcome.|
Dougie Brown jumped as the door squealed shut behind him. This was it. This was the moment he had been sulking over for the past week and a half. He was inside a centuries-old mansion whose hallways hadn't been traversed in over one hundred years. The owner was said to be an elderly oil baron who passed away silently without anybody knowing. He was a fierce, cold-hearted. Nobody dared approach his property then and they definitely didn't dare do so now.
Yet here he was. With a cheap, plastic flashlight and a disposable camera, he had certainly been the first person to brave the mysteries of the withering building for the first time since its owner had passed. Dougie searched the flashlight for his fingers and managed to locate the switch. With the push of a thumb, it sprang to life.
Immediately the face of an angry old man seized him. His heart skipped a beat and he fell to the ground with a brief shout. The flashlight landed facing him and his vision was obscured by its glow. He quickly made a reach for it and shone it back to its original position. He breathed a sigh of relief.
He had managed to point it directly at a dusty portrait. He crept up to it for a closer look. A slender, pale face with a drooping grey mustache and wrinkled to oblivion. Its eyes were piercing, firm, and seemed to be judging him as he stood before the display. Dougie used his hand to dust off the plaque, stopping for another squeal at the sight of an enormous spider happily planted over the text. He backed away, staring at the spider, cursing his incredible phobia of the damned things. The old man's name didn't really matter anyway, he'd check again later.
A thunderclap crackled just outside, and soon the pattering of raindrops could be heard hitting against the ancient woodwork of the estate. Dougie could tell that it was going to be a long night.