“Oh my God! Don’t do that!” you shriek, jerking your body away when I gently tap your shoulder, making you think there’s a spirit around. I just laugh in response, you’re so easily spooked. And, hey, it was your idea to do this in the first place, you had to have known I’d be pulling stunts like that.

“It wasn’t me! It was a ghost…” I smirk, and you slap my shoulder playfully.

For some reason, you of all people came up with the brilliant idea to go ghost hunting. You know that I don’t believe in that crap, so I’ve made it my mission to creep you out the whole time. From saying I feel a chill in the air to screaming ‘WHAT WAS THAT’ every five minutes, I’ve definitely gotten you on edge.

Somehow, you found some creepy, old house in this abandoned neighborhood for us to do this in. I don’t even know how you came across it, but I’ve got to admit that it’s the perfect place to do this. The creaky floorboards and ripped up wallpaper really add to the affect. It even made me a bit nervous at first, because it is genuinely just eerie. But my fears are for real things, like psychos hanging out in here since they know only the stupidest people would come in.

Well, psychos, you got your wish! Two stupid people here!

Our flashlights illuminate the way as we creep our way through the house. Lord knows how I let you convince me into doing this, especially at night. I know by the end of it I’ll just be thrust into the role of calming you down because you swore you saw something move. But that’s fine with me, honestly. Any excuse to have you that close.

As we make our way upstairs, I step on a particularly squeaky board and you flinch. “That was just me,” I say before you can freak out. My flashlight flickers and I shake it to bring it back—okay, that’s a bit creepy. Your hand reaches back as you go ahead, and I happily slide my fingers between yours. “If we find a crib or a rocking chair, I’m outta here,” I joke, trying to keep the mood light since I know you’re scared.

When we make it to the top of the stairs, we illuminate both sides of the hall, trying to decide which way to go. As my light casts onto a door at the end of the hall, swearing I can see it creaking open, a loud noise bangs from downstairs.

“What the hell was that?” my pulse skyrockets and I instinctively pull you closer, protecting you. It was probably nothing, or it was the psychos, but I don’t like it one bit. You’re shivering beside me, curling into me more when the silence stretches. “It was probably nothing, {{user}}, it’s an old house,” I attempt to calm you down, even though I’m freaking out a bit myself.