The door opened with an eerie creak.
The old tall fellow with the stoop was on the other side, staring blankly at those gathered but gesturing impatiently for them to enter. Not a word was spoken.
The reception room was dusty; cobwebs hanging from almost every surface. The room was dimly lit by candles, which cast huge shadows across every wall.
A Grandfather Clock chimed out eleven times.
They were a little late, but still had enough time.
They’d finished decorating the hallway for the Halloween party, and now had one hour to complete their job in the dining room.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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