The smell of decay wafts through the house. I’m not supposed to be here, but yet I find myself shuffling across the creaking hardwood floor.

Scattered near the entrance, shards of glass glisten in the moonlight. Feathers rustle in the distance, and an owl stares back at me. Watching every move I make.

Warning me.

Trudging through the house, my flashlight exploring every angle. Out of the corne...