May I first just say I adore the included definition on this prompt? It cracks me up. On the real. Second of all, Happy Halloween to you all! All five of you. :)
Well this was stupid. I always told myself I wasn't going to be that girl. You know the one I'm talking about, right? The dumb one! The stupid girl who gets talked into going into a haunted house, because some guy thought it would be romantic in the most messed up way. So much for always considering myself to be an intellectual.
This wasn't the first dumb thing I'd done. It was the second. The first dumb thing that I'd allowed to happen, that I'd vowed would never happen, was that I let myself like Mark Rommers. Mark was that boy. There's one at every school. He's cute and kind of goofy, and extremely irritating and yet everyone likes him. Like it doesn't matter who you are. If you're female and straight, no intellectual thought process is going to keep you from having at least an inkling of feeling towards Mark Rommers.
And while I'd love to get you truly caught up on the fascinating backstory, the truth is I have bigger problems to deal with right now. I'm stuck inside a house which I can't get out of. There's nowhere to hide because the house can feel us, it can feel our weight on the floor and it can feel the anxiety and stress that's causing us to hunch our shoulders and stick our necks out like wary chickens.
Sure, this house is haunted. I mean there's ghosts and everything. But the house also is haunted. Like the house itself is practically a ghost. Its a moving, reasoning, thinking being but it's not actually alive. And I'm afraid. True and honest afraid. Not that knee shaking sensation I sometimes get right before I stand up to make a rebuttal in a debate, but so afraid that when Mark Rommers reached out to take my hand I felt nothing new. All I felt was fear.
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