I do enjoy Halloween. But as I walk through the fair, I inwardly cringe at the tat the normies have made the event about. One attraction gets my attention though, their so-called haunted house, and I use some magic to skip its queue.
There are jumpscares that wouldn't frighten a child but others that are interesting. A section in the center of the house is pitch-black, probably so couples can have a secret snuggle, and I move slowly. There's a curse as I stub my toe on something, feels soft, and I sense a presence in the corridor with me.
I turn, a spell on the tip of my tongue, when a clammy hand grabs my neck, squeezes. I'm lifted off the floor, gag as the smell of grave-dirt washes over me. I struggle, flail, but my attacker ignores me, just continuing to crush my throat. We move, I sway helplessly, and am dimly aware of being put into an enclosed space. There's a flash of pain between my shoulderblades and I wriggle on the hook I'm suspended from, can only writhe as the coffin I'm in is closed. I'm left there to die, to end up a jumpscare myself.
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