Haunted House

Blackwood Manor sits alone on the moor, black against a purple sky. Your friend Leah has bet you £500 that you cannot stay inside until sunrise, and she has come along to film you failing. The iron gate squeals. The front door is already open. Inside, the hall smells of candle smoke, though nobody has lived here since 1893. Somewhere upstairs, a clock you were told was broken strikes eleven.