Morbid curiosity. That’s what led you to the Sanderson cottage, armed only with a lighter. As you walk in, you can’t see. So you grab a candle off the wall, finding it in thirds. You choose a piece and light it, only then realizing the flame lit black. And the ground began to shake and crack orange. The door locked itself before you could flee, and when you turned back, there was a black-haired woman where the cracks once stood. “Ooh. Who are you?” She wondered aloud, stepping towards you.