• OK, they offered me $100 just to spend the night here. I mean, they say it's haunted, but it never really was proven to be actually haunted, right?

    I walked in through the front door like a respectable guest. The entire house had a thick layer of dust on everything, including the broom which happened to be right by the front door. I placed my bag of gear on the cobwebbed table, and proceeded to search the house while it was still daylight outside. The entire first floor was a mess, all of the chairs were on their sides, the couch had dark spots that I prayed were only coffee stains, and the fireplace had several logs growing moss.

    I climbed the stairs to the second floor, peaking in to the first room to my right. I gasped in amazement at how well decorated it was. It must of been the main bedroom. The king sized bed with a golden bed frame alone gave it away. And if that wasn't enough, then the piles of jewelry on the bed rest would be enough. I stared in awe at the sparkling diamonds, the rosy rubies, and everything else of the signs of a rich house hold when my eyes fell upon an old, water-stained photograph. I picked up the photo, which seemed to be of an old man hugging a laughing child. They must of been related, because their faces were almost identical. I turned the photo around and read the message on the back.

    "Richard and Rosie, April, 1912"

    I heard something rustled outside the room. I turned, but saw no one there. Fearing that I may have already startled any ghosts, I placed the photo back down in its exact spot, and went back out of the hallway. The moment I left the room, however, the door quickly slammed behind me, and the words "Momma's Room" were etched into the door. If I was someone else, I would of ran out of the house and give back the $100. But I wanted to stay and find out the rest of the house's mysteries.

    I explored the rest of the second floor, which persisted of a bunch of empty rooms and a closet of bent coat hangers. I took a peek out of a nearby window and saw that the sun was beginning to set, and I went back downstairs to prepare for the night's events.

    I grabbed my bag and began to pull out several cameras, each one with a fresh memory chip and batteries. If this place is haunted, then I am going to at least get something on tape. I went and began to place the cameras at certain key points. First, the ledge where several other old photos over hanged the living room, where I planned to sleep. Next, the first floor hallway, looking towards the front door, just in case some of my friends decide to try and pull a prank on me. Next, a camera pointing down the second floor staircase. And finally, a camera down the second floor hallway, facing towards the main bedroom. After making sure that the cameras were in position, I went downstairs, made my sleeping bag, and ate what may soon become my last ham and cheese sandwich.

    My watch beeped at about 9 pm, which was when all of my cameras activated at once and began to record what may happen. I got into my pajamas, off camera, of course, and crawled into my sleeping bag, where I surprisingly fell asleep rather quickly.

    My dream was rather strange. I was in a darkened room, surrounded by dolls and stuffed animals. I noticed that there was a crack of what appeared to be a light at the end of the room. I walked over to the door and began to hear voices, a male's and a female's. I walked out of the room and found myself in the second floor hallway, which was a little larger than I remembered it. The voices sounded angry, and they were coming from downstairs. I silently crept down the stairs, and turned to look into the living room. I watched as a woman was shouting at an old man, both of whom were sitting on a much cleaner couch. The woman seemed to be shouting at the man, something about wanting to send "her" to another city for a proper education. The old man was yelling at the woman, saying that his daughter does not need to be smart, but only needs to learn how to cook and clean like all women should. The woman took offense to this, and began to fight the old man. During the fight, the old man pulled out an old fashioned revolver and shot the poor lady, three times, in the chest. He then turned towards me, and stared at me in fear. He turned to look at the woman he had killed, and looked at the gun. He fired the gun and fell, dead. I screamed, a clash of a small girl's and mine filled the entire house, and I awoke sweating.

    I looked around the room. Dawn was breaking through the windows, and the fine layer of dust was back, covering the floors where I sat. I got up, still sweating and shaking from the dream, and walked over to the camera. It was still recording. I stopped it, turned it off, and went to gather the remaining cameras.

    I had finally turned off the last camera when I realized two things. One, the door where I had exited from was open, and was filled with old, dust covered dolls and toys. The other, the main bedroom's door was opened, and the words were no longer there. I peeked into the room, looking around at the jewelry and decorations. I walked over to the photo, and picked it up one last time. Both the girl and her father stared back at me, grinning. I saw a reflection in the photo pain, and I turned to look at the other side of the bed, where I had forgotten to look.

    There, curled up as small as she could, was the little girl, crying her poor heart out, holding the gun that had killed her parents. She looked up at me, smiled through her tears, and pulled the trigger, splattering the walls with the remaining family's blood.