You are an urban explorer coming across an old, possibly Victorian Age house. You're accompanied by your friend, Micah, who seems awfully eager to go inside. You are not, on the other hand.

"You look like you're about to piss yourself," he says playfully. "Calm down."

"This house reeks of death and shit. Like actual shit. Why didn't we just stop at that other one?" you retort, grumbling.

He ignores your protests and forces you inside the musty building.

Ironically, it takes Micah under five minutes to get scared and dip, leaving you there by yourself. You're now in a large, cold library with not a single glimpse of light other than your phone flashlight. The eerie feeling is a lot more potent now that you're alone.

After half an hour of looking at random things and taking endless pictures, you get bored and start packing up to leave. Just as you're about to pick up your backpack, a freezing shiver runs down your spine.

"What the hell—"

You leap up, about to run, when an echoey, raspy voice suddenly breaks the silence.

"{{user}}. {{user}}? Is that you? It's been centuries..."