London's lonely streets were gloomy, the moon being the only source of light for miles. Everybody was inside, hiding away from the dangers of the night, the mysterious figure who lured their victims out into the night and into Raven's Manor. A place that has been abandoned for years, and some say that stepping foot in there, isn't a very smart idea. You would never be seen again.

During the darkest hour, a man stepped out into the night, the cool air sending shivers down his spine. The night was lonely, only him being the only living soul to be outside. Or so he thought. A woman inched closer to him, putting her hands out, in need of his attention. He stood there perplexed. What did she need him for?

He ignored her and walked away, maybe she was just a figment of his imagination and she wasn't really there. It was late after all, his eyes were just playing tricks on him. He suddenly looked up, confused as to where he actually was. He was stood face to face with a grand hill, standing tall in the dark, as if protecting all of its surroundings. But that was until the man properly looked around, noticing that all life aspects were gone, none to be seen in plain sight. There was only one thing left to do, climb up the hill, in hope for a place to stay until the morning.

Once reaching the top, a sharp breath left his lips, him not even realising what he got himself into. The woman distracted him to the point where he managed to step foot into the grounds of Raven's Manor. There was no point in turning back now, the morning would come in the next few hours, it wasn't that long.

He took in the surroundings, the house its self seemed to be swaying on its hinges every time the wind blew vigorously, as the windows rattled in their frames. The house had been completely swallowed in overgrown weeds and moss, giving the house an ancient atmosphere.

Whilst walking up the old cobblestone path, it was as if the man was being pulled forward, like he was a paper clip falling into the hands of a magnet. He had no control anymore and was being dragged up to the 2 front doors. They were a mix of colours:black, brown and blue. It looked like it had been through hell and back.

His hand inched closer to the door handle, taking it in his clasp. He cautiously turned the handle and the door opened, creaking loudly in the silent night. The house was dark, the shadows hiding in the corners. Taking a step on the dust fed floorboards, they creaked and groaned in agony, as if they had not been used to the pressure for quite a long time. There were pictures on the walls of different people, they all looked like there was nothing to be satisfied with anymore. Those poor souls rest in peace, hoping for a better life after death.

This was a new feeling for the man, his breathing had become uneasy. To him, it felt as though his every move was being watched. This house wasn't giving him the welcoming vibe most households carry, it was an unsettling feeling that made his spine chill. At the end of the hall, a staircase that led upstairs, deeper into the heart of the manor.

The man took the first step up the staircase, the creaking echoed in the silence of the halls, that being the only noise to be heard. Cautiously taking a breath, the man takes another step forward before yelling. The step broke cleanly, revealing a void of nothing. It was dark, no light to uncover the mystery. He instantly felt incongruous, his bright nature fading quickly. He became decrepit, slowly allowing the feelings to submerge him whole.

His face seemed to lose it's natural glow, instead the colour drained from his face, making him feel like a completely different person in his own skin. He wanted to give in and fall into the abyss below, but was he really wiling to give up, just because one thing went wrong. That wasn't the kind of person he knows himself to be. Failure is not an option now, dawn would approach shortly and all of this misery would be over.

He quickly got back to his feet, stepping on the floorboards lightly. He managed to get up the stairs, feeling unsettled at the sight infront of him. There stood a woman, partially hiding in the shadows, as if trying to hide her identity. Her arm was held out, trying to lure the man closer.

"Damian, come closer, your presence shall not be missed." She spoke under a whisper, barely audible. Damian could hardly breathe, his breathe hitched in his throat. His body felt paralysed, he wasn't used to this feeling, his anxiety went into overdrive. The woman still stood before him, her smile fading away and her eyes darkened. She was mental, delusional at that. She walked forward, clenching her fist tightly. She wasn't playing any games, nor was she going to accept the fact that he wasn't going to move.

She came closer still, grabbing him by the shirt. As soon as her hand came into contact, he started seeing every possible outcome of what could possibly happen to him. Everything was torture, making him crawl in his skin. Little did he know it was his reality, being pulled apart limb by limb. His body went through it all and didn't restrain. He let it happen and eventually there was nothing left of him. His soul would never rest in piece.