Part 1

You led me through a corridor dressed with fake cobwebs and unimpressive pop up ghouls to the back of the haunted house. 

Your pale makeup and fake fangs were a tribute to Bram Stroker’s Dracula, which coerced my interests into following you to what you claimed was reserved for those not faint at heart. 

So down we went, 

through a door in the center of the floor,

descending a winding staircase,

to a room dimly lit and dancing with shadows.

The air was thick and stale.

A singular item rested in the center of the room.

A dust laden coffin.

Red contacts bore into me, as you bowed your head and requested I take a closer look. 

Curiously I obliged, walking closer to see. 

Expecting another infantile scare tactic I was surprised when my finger tips met cool mahogany. 

You were suddenly at my side, whispering in my ear.