(Warning: This contains frightening elements, descriptions of gore, and mild profanity)

Little Jackson Bezzel and his cronies craved trouble. They lusted for chaos, and they left their mark wherever they went. The adults didn't bat an eye. After all, Jackson Bezzel was son to Mayor Julius Bezzel, and anyone to tell off Jackson was, in turn, telling off the Mayor. After all, father like son. The parents in the town remembered the exact same behavior from Julius when he was but a child. The difference was that Julius never had a father in a position of power to assist him. The children spoke of Jackson as if he were some twisted demon kid who had been raised by pack of wild wolves. Their parents gossiped about the child, swearing that if Jackson had been their child, he would never had gotten away with the stuff he did.

But one day, the demon king of Anne Rice Middle School fell. The boy had been with his friends, a group of smug underlings who liked to, incorrectly, think of themselves of Jackson's friends. Jackson, his right hand man Leon, Bruce, Tim, and Seth were riding their bikes around the neighborhood, throwing their litter at people walking by, and trying to slam into parked cars. Soon, they came to the Lugosi Manor, the one looming manor everyone dreaded and talked about, that no one went into. Leon smirked at the others and dared Jackson to go in, that he must snap some pictures of the Lugosi Manor to prove his fearlessness. Frightened on the inside, but still ready to prove his bravery, he threw down his bike and walked up to the doors. No one had lived in the Manor for years, ever since its last inhabitants went insane.

Jackson gulped as he walked through the yard of wilting weeds and graying grass. Whispers that sounded like ghoulish echoes wrapped around him, as a cold chill overcame him. Above, a rolling set of clouds rushed towards the boys. Tension built. Jackson crept closer and closer to the doors. He stepped up one stair, rotten and musty. It creaked and moaned, a direct signal of its age. Another step. Jackson fell through the termite infested wood, his burning heart skipping a quick beat as he swet. His eyes bulged in fright, as he reached towards the ancient door handle. His quivering hand turned the rusted knob, and the door flung open with the strength of winds. And as soon as Jackson stepped into the Lugosi Manor, he felt that someone was watching him, from behind a doorway, inside a shadow, underneath a table.

Rats squealed, as Jackson jumped back in disgust. It carried with it some rancid piece of maggoty meat and scattered off. The bugs crept the walls, as Jackson took his camera to snap some pictures, and them escape this filthy place. Trying not to make a sound, he maneuvered the place, his contempt for this Manor only growing by the minute. A light flashed, as he took a picture of the peeling gray wallpaper and a ancient portrait of an old man, noble and wise, an military officer no doubt. Another light flashed. And another. Leon had dared Jackson to take ten different pictures to prove his courage once and for all. However, in this supposed act of courage, he only felt consuming, twisted paranoia that churned and chewed vividly at his stomach. Then, the floor creaked with a footstep. But Jackson hadn't moved.

Jackson's eyes trembled as he looked around. Suddenky, he felt a freezing hand brush against his neck. Jackson screamed and dropped his phone, tears strolling down his face. When he turned, no one was there. Moans of pain and creatures in the darkness squealing filled the air, as sweat and tears ran down Jackson's face. He knelt to get the phone and ran to the door, when it slammed shut. Jackson's friends had fled the scene at his first scream, and they were not about to get help any time soon. The front door slammed shut as if by witchcraft. Metal clicks made sure it was locked. A guttural growl erupted, as the entire Lugosi Manor transformed from an ancient, dilapidated manor to a hellish house of nightmares.

Jackson felt the floor change. There were rats and snakes slithering, their slick, slimy scales moist and their fur covered in disease and filth. Jackson ran, not sure of where, simply running, as the only sounds he could hear were squeals and cackling. From the walls, clawing hands sprouted, grabbing at Jackson, their arms long and bony, as well as their pointed fingers. The boy found himself in the room with the painting of the old man. The wall had turned slimy, dripping with some green goo. The painting now depicted a skeleton sitting in a chair, smiling and staring right at Jackson, its skull turning whenever he moved. Jackson ran up the stairs, hoping to find a window to jumped out of.

The upstairs rooms were only more horrific, the walls made of some pulsating fleshy surface with parasitic holes that oozed some sort of thick black tar. From the floor of the second story emerged long lanky arms that were at least two feet long, with sharp piercing fingers. They all clawed at Jackson, now reduced to a quivering mess of tears and terror. "I want to leave! Please!" he cried. Soon, the stairway itself began to curl up, leaving no exit to the first floor. Screams pounding in his ear, he screamed and clenched his eyes. And suddenly, everything went black. No windows, no cracks to expose light, just pure darkness in its truest form. The accompaniment to this pitch black place were Jackson's screams. Jackson shouted, "Please! Turn on the lights! I beg you! Please! I won't hurt anyone! I won't! Just let me-"

And it was then Jackson got exactly what he wished for. Light. It blinded him. Jackson had to blink to dim the intensity of those bright lights. But this was not the bright light of day, but rather the unholy light of night. In front of Jackson were a pair of unblinking eyes, with the most blazing crimson colors ever experienced. Jackson felt an absolutely fiery feeling in his heart, as if his insides were being set on flame. And then, all went dark for Jackson Bezzel. And the eyes disappeared. The dim lights flickered on, with no trace of Jackson. The walls were simply stone once more, with the normal gray wallpaper. The floor transformed back into wood instead of rats and snakes. The painting of the watching skeleton turned into an immobile old man once more. This nightmarish hellhole of a house turned into Lugosi Manor once more.

For the next three days, the police scoured the Manor for any trace of Jackson. The Mayor was enraged with grief, and a grand funeral was held. It was such an awful thing to say, so insensitive and terrible, but many kids were thankful Jackson was forever resting. The phone with the ten pictures was lost with Jackson. No evidence was found at all. To Mayor Julius' rage, the police had deemed the case inconclusive due to a lack of verifiable information. A heavy weight was carried on the town, but few attended the funeral, as was as it may be. The coffin in the ground was empty of course, leaving a hollow grave in hallowed ground. Parents, well intentioned they might be, used the entire situation to teach the children to be kind. A curfew was put in order, to prevent any other disappearance. How useless they would find that would be.