Jason climbed the stairs slowly.
Each step creaked under his feet.
The music box was still playing. The sound came from one of the upstairs rooms. Soft and slow. A sad tune. It made his chest feel heavy, like something was pulling on his heart.
At the top of the stairs, a long hallway stretched in both directions. The wallpaper here was torn and moldy. The air smelled like wet wood and dust.
He followed the music.
It came from the second door on the right. Jason walked toward it, hand shaking as he reached for the doorknob.
The music stopped.
He pushed the door open.
Inside was a small bedroom. A wooden bed stood against the wall. A music box sat on the desk, closed. Jason hadn't touched it—but it had been playing.
He stepped closer. The music box was shaped like a house. Just like the one he was standing in.
He opened it again.
No sound came out.
Suddenly, the closet door creaked open behind him.
Jason turned quickly.
Nothing.
He stepped toward the closet and slowly pulled the door wide.
Empty. Just dust and a single, old shoe.
Jason let out a breath.
Then he saw the mirror on the wall.
And his reflection was smiling again.
Only—he wasn't.
---
He ran out of the room and back into the hallway.
Something was wrong with this house. The air felt heavier. The lights flickered, though no light bulbs were even working.
Down the hall, he noticed something new.
A door at the end was glowing slightly around the edges.
Blue light.
Jason hesitated, then moved toward it. He placed his hand on the door.
It was ice cold.
He pushed it open.
Inside was a study, filled with books and strange objects. Old maps, broken clocks, and dusty glass jars filled the shelves.
On the desk was a book. Large, black, and thick.
Jason opened it.
It was full of names.
Each name was crossed out.
Until the last one.
Jason Miller
His name.
Not crossed out.
He stared at it, breathing hard.
Suddenly, the pages began flipping on their own. The wind came from nowhere. The room grew darker. The door slammed shut.
Jason turned—and saw it.
A shadow.
Not a person. Not a ghost.
A shape, made of smoke and darkness. It had no face, but it watched him.
It moved closer.
Jason grabbed the book and the music box and ran.
Down the hall. Down the stairs. Through the hallway.
The front door was open now.
He didn't stop.
He ran into the forest, heart pounding, not looking back.
---
He didn't know how long he ran. The fog slowly faded. The trees began to change. He saw the river. He saw the campsite.
"Jason!" someone shouted.
It was Mia.
He collapsed to the ground as his friends ran toward him.
"Where were you?" Ben asked. "We searched for hours."
Jason looked behind him.
No house.
Just trees.
He didn't say anything.
He just held the music box in his hands.
It was cold.
Still closed.
But when he listened closely—
He could still hear it playing.