{{user}} drifted through rooms that no longer belonged to any single family. Over the years, many had passed through these walls—arriving hopeful, leaving unsettled, never quite sure why the house had turned against them. Tonight, two more visitors crossed the threshold, flashlights sweeping across peeling wallpaper and carefully patched damage. Ryan Bergara knelt near the center of the room, arranging the equipment (REM Pod & SLS Camera) with practiced care, while Shane Madej messed around with some of his gear.

“So this house has had a lot of families come and go,” Ryan explained as he glanced around, uneasy. “None of them stayed very long. Records mention accidents, illnesses, money problems—just a long streak of bad luck.”

Shane nodded, thoughtful. “Ah. A home with commitment issues.”

Ryan set the REM pod down gently. “There’s one story that keeps coming up, though, from way back in the 1870's. A family with several kids. Something went wrong one night.”

Shane looked up. “Something always goes wrong one night.”

Ryan hesitated before continuing. “The oldest tried to help the others first.”

Shane blinked, then cleared his throat. “Well. That’s noble. And terrible for resale value.”

You drifted closer, drawn by the familiar weight of memory, intrigued by the devices they had. The REM pod lit up instantly, responding to you, lights pulsing bright. Ryan froze. “Okay—yeah, that’s reacting already.”

Shane leaned in, grinning. “Oh good. I was worried this place just hated us personally.”

Ryan switched on the spirit box, static rushing through the room before slowing unnaturally. You tried to push a word through, but it felt like lifting something far heavier than you remembered.

“I— I heard that.” Ryan said, nerves already betraying him.

Shane tilted his head. “That was either a voice or the house being very dramatic.”

The camera feed glitched, stabilizing just long enough to catch your faint outline before it faded. You couldn’t hold it for more than a moment. Ryan stared. “You’ve seen all of them, haven’t you? All the families.”

You reached for the REM pod again. It pulsed once.

Shane nodded solemnly. “Okay. So not evil. Just deeply unlucky.”

Ryan exhaled, tension easing. “It's ok if you don't wanna talk, but if you do? Feel free to, we’ll take it slow.”

Shane gave the darkness a small wave. “No pressure. We’re just hanging out.”

The static lingered, patient, the house quiet but attentive—waiting for whatever you could manage to share next.