Elvira didn’t know how long she’d been wandering around the mansion. It was dark and dim, and a child wind blew even though there were no windows. The long, crooked hallways were lit by flickering sconces places sporadically along the walls, and even they seemed to have a certain eeriness to them.

How was she ever going to get out of here? Now that she thought about it, she couldn’t quite remember how she’d gotten here. Or why she’d gotten here.

Suddenly, Elvira stopped in her tracks. There was a figure lying on the ground just a few paces away, a girl, shadowed and gauntly still.

She called out, “Are.. are you alright?”

Elvira crept forwards. It was lying on its side, raven hair strewn messily in between its mangled arms. Shaking, she reached down and rolled it over. Thunder cracked outside, and she shrieked at the gruesome sight.

A pale face, glossy eyes and a blood-soiled chest greeted her. Elvira spun around, as if to find the killer standing right behind her, but the hallway was empty. Curious, she glanced down at the floor, and found that leading away from the figure was a trail of bloody footprints. Now deciding it was her duty to avenge the poor girl, she began to follow them.

At the next turn of the hall, there was a man sprawled beneath one of the sconces.”Hello?” She called, but she knew better than to expect a response. The man’s eyes were also glassy, his face white and sweaty, arms tangled around his lifeless body. And there was that same blood spot in the same place on his chest.

The footprints paused at the man, and then continued down yet another hall, this one even darker than the last. Thunder boomed again. Elvira wasn’t afraid anymore, though. She was determined.

There were three figures this time, a man and two women, murdered in the same manner as the last two. Yet again the bloody footprints stopped at each of the figures, and turned away farther into the abyss of the mansion. Elvira walked past the dead figures and squinted in the dark, realizing the footprints led into a bedroom, of which the door was ajar.

She crept along the wall and slipped inside.

It was small, and remarkably untidy. Bags, clothes and papers laid strewn throughout the unmade bed and lavish dressers, whose drawers had been opened haphazardly, with random objects poking out of them. “What the...” she looked down to find the footprints leading up to a place near the bed, and then stop.

Elvira reached the end of the trail and nervously looked up. Thunder cracked outside as she met a horribly familiar pair of eyes.

Her own.

Elvira’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced down the bloody footprints she had been so determined to find the maker of. Her whole body shaking, she gingerly placed her own foot over the print, finding, oddly enough, that they matched up exactly...