He pushed open the large oak door with black, creaking hinges and an evil looking lions head knocker. He slipped inside and closed the door, shutting out the small shard of light which had been cutting through the dark of the old building’s damp, cold and dark corridor. He fumbled for the light switch with his trembling fingers. A dim light flickered on as his hand flicked at the switch. The bulb let off a feeble glow casting eerie shadows along the hallway. He started to move slowly down the long dark hallway, feeling in the shadows with his feet. The smell of urine and mildew hung pungently in the cold still air, taking away any breath he could spare. His heart was pounding and his head pleading with him to turn back.
He reached the bottom of the corridor and heard movement. He instinctively crouched, as though still in the army, waiting to pounce on the enemy. The scratching and rustling, he told himself, was a rat. He crossed the hall and opened the door on the far side of the hall. As he moved into the room he could feel a strong presence as though evil and death were lurking. He felt for the light switch but it didn’t work. He stood and let his eyes adjust to the dark, while he was feeling the presence of souls who had long since passed. He turned on the torch function on his mobile phone, the light threw into the room.
In one corner of the room was an iron bedstead with the remains of a mattress that had long since perished. Attached to the head and the foot of the bedstead were manacles. The story his aunty had told him of the torture of old people that went on here was true. He flicked up the camera app on his mobile phone to take a photo for evidence.
He felt a tug at his arm and froze, as he turned he could see the outline of a figure, thin, wearing white clothes, hunched over with a walking stick. The phantom raised his stick, the explorer turned yanking his arm away as he did. He ran out of the room and up the dark hall. He could hear the echoes of the phantom behind him. He reached the oak door and turned the nob, it just turned and turned, he was stuck. He pulled at the door several times, his heart beat was in double time, it was to no avail.
Quickly, he started off in the other direction to find an alternative way out. All the windows were covered with steel shutters and the doors were all jammed tightly shut. He was trapped in a cold dark house. Now there were several phantoms pulling him kicking and screaming down the corridor to the torture room. They levitated him onto the rusty, stinking bedstead, shackling his hands and feet. The door slammed shut and all that was left of the house’s visitor was his screams.