The story so far:
I only planned to stay for a moment. I just needed to get out of the freezing cold rain from a rare winter thunderstorm. Normally I wouldn’t think about going in there, not with all the stories that have been passed down through the generations. Even though I’ve never been much of a believer in ghost stories, this place still gave me the creeps.
I didn’t expect it to be busy; after all it was Christmas Eve. However I thought there would be a few lingering patrons, probably looking for a little extra booze to fill the void between the Christmas party and their unhappy home life. Instead I found darkness. I thought they might be closed but the door was open and a light flickered in the distance, perhaps from a back room.
“Hello?” I called out.
No one answered.
I cracked the front door in hopes to see the rain subside but to my dismay it worsened. The howling winds and blistering drops peppered the dilapidated ceiling and walls of my umbrella. Things could be much worse. I stepped towards the back room in hopes of using the phone so I can call my nag of a wife to tell her I’d be a few minutes late for the annual dinner with the in-laws. See, told you it could be worse! Of course with my luck, the light flickered no more. I stood in the middle of a pitch black and unfamiliar place with a dead cell phone and what amounted to a hurricane in December whirling through the streets. But that was only the beginning.
About two dozen eyes glowed at me; their intense stare pierced the darkness. As I turned to escape, there was a violent tug on my jeans. My strongest effort landed me no better than a face plant on the dusty and cold concrete floor.