Board Thread:General Discussion/@comment-37315504-20190714190018/@comment-28718853-20190913145305

A gunman enters a dilapidated manor, rumors of an ancient artifact whispered back at the town bar. The wooden floorboards creak with each step, long deteriorated from decades of neglect. Windows are broken and cobwebs saturate the upper corners of each room. The fridge contains a plethora of spoiled and rotten food.

He raises his gun to a whisper behind him, but finds nothing. Supernatural existence was always folly to him, so he assumed that the sound was most likely the wind. He travels back into the foyer and heads upstairs, watchful for anything out of the ordinary. Squatters are also a possibility, but it's doubtful that any would make a long broken down home such as this their own.

Down the hall is an open room. He approaches it and peers inside, finding a queen-size bed that had fallen apart and a shattered mirror.

Upon entry he hears more whispering, and he begins to grow even more paranoid as he aims his weapon in every direction expecting either a junkie or a psychopath to jump out at him. "Show yourself!" he shouts, trying to form an intimidating air around him.

"You got it sweetheart!" a female voice replies as a glowing blue hand bursts into existence and bats away the intruder's firearm, followed by the rest of the Will-o-the-Wisp forming in front of him.

The mam jumps for his gun, but is snatched up in the cage of the Wisp who cheers, "Finally! Finally, a husband for me!"