Sinister Gamble

A shadow.

A faint, dark silhouette was the first thing I encountered, after taking a short glimpse of the cracked windows. There was something about the enormous building, in front of me, that gave the impression that it doesn't desire any unwelcomed visitors. The house was shielded by a dark, lifeless tree and there were overgrown patches of grass everywhere.

My feet wanted to cower and run away like a distracted hare when it meets its predator, but I was restrained by my own conscience. I was aware that doing this wasn't worth anything, but my pride as a man was at stake.

"All of this, just for a stupid bet I lost?" I asked myself, regretting the decision from the beginning.

Hesitating, I glanced over my trembling shoulder to see my four other mates squatting behind a near-by bush. When they saw me gazing, all they did was usher me forward and give silly thumbs up of what seemed to be useless encouragements. They were there to, supposedly, act as my witnesses.

"You can't back out now, you'll never hear the end of it."

Those were the exact words from my alleged friends, that kept echoing in my indecisive head.

It might've been just my luck, that night too, when the frosty breeze blowing my way, turned into hard, heavy droplets of rain. I had no other choice but to enter the abandoned building, since it was the only shelter in view. The old, mahogany door opened with a deafening creak as I stepped foot inside.

I'd let out a reluctant shiver from being drenched from the rain as I heard the door close behind me with a boisterous bang. My clenched fists slowly loosened as I reverenced at how the mansion sent such an ominous feeling in every cell of my body. I had already came to the conclusion that a promised nightmare was y...

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... on one of its branches. Sprouting out from it were twig-like sticks, a pair at the front and longer ones at the back. I squint my eyes and force them to adjust as I continued on staring at the exotic object.

I abruptly gasped in pure horror, fumbling with the flashlight. When I angled it to the floor, as it finally came to life, I sensed my stomach sink and my throat gagging as I witnessed a reddish substance all over my fingers and on the seat.

The solid dropping on my head, I realised, was a loose screw.

My ears perked up from the sound of little thuds and was then followed by a noisy screech, like metal rubbing onto metal.

I casted the light to the chandelier and I came face to face with something I have never seen before, a blatant scream threatening to escape from my shivering lips.

The light flashed rapidly, as if suffocated, and flickered away, dying.