[ RF ] [ TT ] [ CW ] Scare me in three paragraphs .

The sounds of the wood in the house creaked and groaned with the sun setting and temperature change, as the house settled for the evening. It was nothing new, it was an old house. Like most old houses, she had her secrets that came with the passing of families living within her walls. Loving moments and hateful times had been lived as well as happy and sad. Every house had those secrets. 
 
 But the secrets were different in Elysium Manor. The Manor had been built by a successful philanthropist gentleman in Montreal during a small pox crisis in the late 19th century. Thousands in town had passed through its walls as a temporary asylum for the ill that needed treatment for the pox and other related diseases. Few had lived to go back home, and those that did were forever marked by the illness, left with the scars of the dead they shared beds with in that home. 
 
 The Manor ’ s doors were left open by the philanthropist to those who needed its sanctuary, but few came by anymore after a month or so, and few still years after. Staff abandoned their posts frequently and patients made for transfers to other facilities when they were well enough to do so. No one could stand it. No one could listen to the Manor. It creaked again, settling a little further for the night. The sounds of the dead trapped inside its walls groaned for help and for release. But no one came to the Elysium Manor anymore. So there it sat. The souls trapped inside and damned to their prison, with doors wide open. 

