son Echoes," was

t that screamed boredom. I needed something new, something

he email lande

just two words: "The

amous Blackwood Manor, a place steeped in dark local legends of disappearanc

I pictured the episodes, the spooky audio I could capture, the narrati

without a se

email was specifi

less. Arrive at dusk. The gate

ment tucked safely in my duffel bag. The trees arched over the path, thei

water-stained, windows like vacant eyes stared out over a yard choked with weeds. A tall, wrou

s dressed head-to-toe in black, his long dark hair falling over his face. He looked up as I ap

giving him a brief nod

, her heels crunching on the gravel. She was on her phone, her voice crisp and commanding. She ended

energy bounced out, wearing a t-shirt with a pixelated video game character on it. He looked ar

drive. A woman with perfect hair and a full face of make

you live from the literal creepiest place o

uencer.

r. Ethan, the Goth. Chloe, the CEO. Al

ber promised

collection of strangers sizing each other u

k the silence, a rattling s

d like he' d just stumbled out of a college library. He had a backpa

op near the gate,

flyer for this on the campus bulletin

stared

ooked at

ount. One, two, three, f

i

been clear. Fi

wered her phone, her brow furrowed. Ethan pushed

eople," Chloe state

h. Are you sure? The flyer

a loud, grinding screech e

e ancient metal groaning in protest. They closed with a deafening clang, the sound final a

re tr

he reality of the situation s

ran to the gate and grabbed th

his isn't funn

budge. They were

cracking. She examined the lock, then the hing

id, her voice tight. "No keypa

in his pockets. He stopped and kicked a section o

t high," he announced to the group, his

ing, her phone hanging limply at her side. Her perfe

, right?" she asked, her voice t

answe

he arrival of the sixth person, the gate closi

mething els

o a cage, and the door had