PROLOGUE

We were young, fearless, and far too naive to understand that some doors, once opened, cannot be closed. It was just supposed to be a fun night—a night of exploring, filming, and laughing about what we’d uncover. But when we crossed the threshold of Ashvale Manor, something shifted. The very air seemed to change, as though the house itself was alive, watching, waiting.

The heavy front doors slammed shut behind us with a finality that felt too deliberate. The storm outside intensified, thunder crashing like a warning, but inside the manor, all was eerily silent. The usual creaks and groans of an old house were replaced by something heavier—a silence that made your skin crawl, a feeling of being... observed. Our footsteps echoed through the empty halls, unsettling in their rhythm, but we pressed on, fueled by the thrill of adventure.

We didn’t realize then that we were already being watched by something far older than any of us.

Jason was the first to disappear.

We didn’t know it at the time, but it had already begun. The game. It had claimed him silently, slipping its claws into his mind when we weren’t looking. The walls began to close in, the mansion shifting and twisting as though it had a mind of its own. A twisted mockery of a game—a game that had no rules, no mercy. It was alive, breathing, changing as we moved through it. We were mere pieces, trapped in a deadly puzzle, forced to confront our deepest fears, our darkest secrets.

Jason’s body was the first warning, but we were too late. By the time we found him, it was no longer him. His body hung in the center of the grand foyer, twisted, contorted in ways that no human body could ever move. His face, once full of life, was now an empty mask of terror, frozen in a grotesque smile that seemed to mock us all. But worse than his death was the undeniable truth that pulsed through the room—he was still there.

Alive, in a way.

The whispers started then.

We thought it was just our minds playing tricks, but it didn’t take long to realize that we were far from alone. The game had claimed its first soul, and now it wanted more. It was a force that moved through the very walls, speaking to us not through words but through feelings, emotions, and fears that crept into our minds like poison. Jason wasn’t just dead—he was... something else. Something that had been changed by the game. He wasn’t the only one.

And the rest of us? We were next.

The game was cruel in its design. It wasn’t about winning or losing; it was about survival. It was about playing by rules that didn’t make sense, confronting nightmares that took physical form, and finding a way out when the very architecture of the house seemed to shift, trapping us further in its depths. The manor twisted, reshaped itself as though it were part of the game—a living, breathing entity bent on breaking us, one by one.

I remember the moment I realized the truth—the moment it all hit me. The walls around us weren’t just a prison. They were part of the game, too. The mirrors that lined the hallway, reflecting distorted versions of ourselves, weren’t just mirrors. They were warnings. Warnings of what was to come if we didn’t finish what we’d started.

Complete the game. Finish it.

The words had come from everywhere. No mouth. No voice. Just the game, calling us to play.

Claire screamed. Ethan tried to pull us to safety, but there was no safety. There was only the game. It was waiting. Watching. It knew us, knew our fears, knew the cracks in our souls that would break under pressure.

The manor was endless, its halls a maze, doorways that led to dead ends, and stairs that spiraled into black holes. We tried to escape, but there was no escape. The front door? Gone. Replaced by walls of mirrors, each one reflecting a different version of us—a version where we were broken, screaming, bleeding. A version where we had already lost.

And Jason... Jason had come back.

He moved now, his body twisted and dangling from a noose, dragging his feet across the floor with a rhythmic tap… tap… creak that followed us no matter where we ran. His eyes, glazed over and empty, locked onto me as though he knew everything—everything I had tried to hide from him, from everyone. He wasn’t just a corpse. He was the game now, and he wanted us to play.

We ran.

The walls closed in. The whispers grew louder. The house seemed to stretch, contorting around us, blocking our way at every turn. There was only one way out—finish the game. But the game had no rules. It didn’t matter who you were. It didn’t matter what you did. All that mattered was that you played... and that you survived.

But survival came at a price.

And Jason? Jason wasn’t the last.

He wouldn’t be the last.

We had no choice now. If we wanted to live, we had to finish the game. Even if it killed us.

If you ever find the tapes, the camera footage, the blood-streaked walls... don’t watch them. Don’t listen to the whispers.

THE HANGING GAME

Because once you start, there’s no going back.

#To be continued.....

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