Page 37 of Haunted Spurs

"Are you kidding me?! I'm the one ruining my designer heels in this fucking minefield of mud and brambles!" a high-pitched female voice shrieks back.

"Hey, beautiful, just a reminder that you were the one who got lost. Thank the laws of probability that I came to rescue you in the middle of nowhere."

One last branch is shoved violently out of the way, and from the depths of the dark brush emerge an exhausted Emerson and a Susan with her teased blonde curls full of twigs, dusting leaves and cobwebs off their clothes.

"Okay, now we're physically all here," Josh announces, looking around.

"So what do we do now?" Lizzie asks, planting her hands on her hips, her gaze bouncing between the woods and the massive iron gates.

"Do you think we should just... go in?" Indya suggests, uncertain.

While the group debates, gravity continues to pull me toward Ron.

I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and force myself to take a step to the side, putting a few inches of distance between us. I can't concentrate when he's this close.

"The gate is locked," Susan guesses.

"Maybe it's just pushed shut," Carolina counters with a shrug. "I mean, if production is already inside..."

Ron steps forward, passing Susan. He places his hands on the iron bars and pushes.

The metal groans. A long, shrill, sinister creak pierces the sudden silence as the two heavy doors slowly swing inward, kicking up clouds of dry dust.

"Well... it's open," Ron declares, turning back to us. He hooks his thumbs into the pockets of his jeans. "I guess, at this point... it's up to me to officially welcome you to Haunted Spurs."

As he delivers the last line, his eyes seek mine. He holds my gaze and winks.

I feel the earth spin beneath my feet.

What is wrong with me today?

Hesitantly, the group begins to make its way down the dirt driveway. As we advance, the main estate emerges from the shadows of the ancient trees in all its decaying glory. It is an absolute masterpiece of rural-gothic architecture. A massive manor house, built on three asymmetrical floors, with time-blackened wood that seems to absorb the dusk's darkness. The wraparound porch is supported by rotting wooden pillars, choked by dead, dry, twisted ivy clinging to the structure like bony fingers.

The windows are tall. The glass panes reflect the last rays of the dying sun, looking like empty, blind eye sockets peering down at us. The sloped roof culminates in a lopsided turret, topped with a raven-shaped weather vane that sways, squeaking faintly in a sudden gust of wind. Further back, shrouded in the evening mist, you can just make out the curved, dilapidated silhouette of a barn.

It’s a place that oozes death, abandonment, and buried secrets. It is perfect.

"Oh my God..." Emma squeaks. She instinctively wraps her arms around her chest, shivering. She takes a step back, bumping into Levi's chest. "This place gives me the creeps."

I stop in the middle of the driveway, my eyes wide.

The creeps? No. It’s the most fascinating thing I’ve ever seen. I study every detail in awe, drinking in the grim, majestic atmosphere of the house. I can already picture the creaking floorboards, the dark hallways, the long shadows on the peeling walls.

Well, yeah... I definitely won't be lacking inspiration in here.

I instinctively look for Ron, who... had enough madness to actually buy this place. He's standing close to me with his camcorder raised, his arm extended to frame himself and his surroundings. His face, illuminated by the screen, is relaxed and amused.

"Day one, Haunted Spurs," he announces to the lens in a projected, theatrical voice. "We just entered the estate. And the atmosphere is... spooky."

He does a slow pan, capturing the massive house, then shifts the frame to the group of contestants. He records Emma's horrified expression, Josh and Lizzie's competitive glares, and Katherine's furrowed brow.

Then, he tilts the camera down toward the ground. "Obviously, the bravest member of this expedition is him," he comments, as the display shows Ollie happily sniffing everything in sight, his tail wagging a mile a minute.

Right after that, the lens swings up and points dead at me.

Ron frames me in a close-up. His blue eyes peek out from behind the small camera, brimming with pure amusement.

"And here is the Moon Goddess in her natural habitat," he comments. "What do you think of the location, Selene? Dark enough for your tastes?"