The handle is cold and rusted. You turn but it holds fast, locked. You look back at Casey.
“Well, we tried,” you say.
But before you can turn away from the door you hear a clicking sound and the door croaks open slowly into the dark house.
Once inside, the door swings shut behind you, leaving you and Casey in the dark. A faint radiance comes up from the wooden floor where you see a large letter “G” outlined in a white glowing paint.
You can make out a ratty couch against the back wall, and a staircase to the right of it. There’s a door to your left that hangs on one hinge and an empty doorway to your right.
You hear what sounds like shuffling footsteps from the floor above you.