Wendy had to admit she was rather used to people turning her away now. Even when dealing with a child very few people were willing to let a stranger into their home. Especially a stranger that refused to give them more then a first name. But this town was considerably different. The people weren’t just hesitant, they were outright unapproachable. It got to the point that Wendy didn’t even want to spend the night in the town. Instead she took herself and her sister out to the forest, in hopes of finding an abandoned building there to rest.
The rain didn’t frighten here, neither did the thunder, or the demons the trees took the form of. Even the wolves baying barely fazed her. If she were to die out here, then so be it. But fate seemed to have other ideas. Soon she came upon an odd house, giant and foreboding like something out of a novel. The entire area screams ‘keep out’, ‘danger’, that she should keep away. Yet Wendy wasn’t going to back down now, perhaps as a younger child she’d have fled. But now… She opened the door.
It wouldn’t be wise to spend the night here, certainly Wendy knew this. Though she did realize this, she simply did not care. She thought the idea of staying, and possibly dying, in a house was better then succumbing to the elements.
She held her sister’s flower in her hand and swore she could feel Abigail’s cold hand holding her’s.
An empty, dimly lit foyer revealed itself after the doors were open. Quaint, large, and open, yet chilling and lonely, the only company in here was the portrait of an elegant, young man dangling over a dying fire. There was but mere silence in response to the question echoing through the old wooden walls, but why did it feel like she's gained the attention of hundreds? For a moment, it was just the walls groaning with age, and the mysterious sounds of whispers and distant knocks, until finally...
A deep, disembodied voice thundered through the walls. It was evident now they weren't alone. The painting dangling above the fireplace began to gradually age and decay, until it's subject was nothing more than a skeletal corpse, proudly posing for it's last painting. This mansion was clearly haunted.
"I'm not surprised they all said no. The townsfolk can be less than hospitable when you have a ghost following you around like that. They must have thought you two came from this very house. Color me impressed!"
The soul of a hanged man appraised the two with enthusiasm. Not every day soemone waltzes into here after frightening the townsfolk.
"Apologies for no introduction, i am your host, your Ghost Host, loyal servant to the master of this house, who has been laid to rest. You must be Wendy, and your happy haunt Abigail is your sister, correct? You're welcome to stay here as long as you please, just be warned, this is no house for the easily frightened..."
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