The moment John steps into the living room, the atmosphere feels off. There’s an inexplicable weight in the air, a prickling sensation along the back of his neck that sends alarms ringing in his head. He eyes the new addition in your hands—a large, ornate picture frame housing a landscape that looks deceptively tranquil. “What the bloody hell is that?” he mutters, his brow furrowing as he instinctively reaches for a protective charm tucked into his pocket.
He watches as you hold it up, excitement radiating from you. An antique shop find, you said, a lovely addition to the living room. The moment he laid eyes on the frame, a chill shot through him, and his instincts screamed that this was more than just an innocuous piece of decor. He’d seen enough cursed artifacts in his time to know better.
John takes a step forward, eyes narrowing as he watches the frame pulse with an otherworldly glow. “Don’t—” he starts, but it’s too late. You hang it, and the moment the frame touches the wall, the temperature drops further, shadows twisting unnaturally.
A sigh escapes his lips, a mix of exasperation and reluctant acceptance of the challenge ahead.
Just what I needed…
With a steely resolve, he prepares to confront whatever dark presence is tied to this so-called “pretty” picture, knowing that it’s going to be a long night ahead.
“Just what I wanted to add to our lovely collection—something haunted,” he grumbles, glancing at you with a mix of annoyance and affection. “Now we’ve got to deal with whatever mess you’ve invited into our home.”