Check out this great piece of fiction from Anna Dobritt’s blog.
Sleep is no longer an option. The voices I hear when awake now murmur through my dreams, calling me, begging me to join them. I was foolish to accept Phil’s bet, but winning a case of Bud for spending one hour in that old mausoleum seemed easy enough. He did warn me that anyone who spent an hour in that place ended up mad or dead. I thought he was pulling my leg.
The rules were simple; after sunset I had to enter the mausoleum, descend the stairs, and wait in the main room for one hour. Phil waited outside with both our watches and my cell phone. When the time was up, he would throw a handful of rocks down the stairs. I could use a flashlight to make my way down the stairs, but once I reached the appointed area, I had to turn it off.
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