Come in. What is it you desire? You wish to see the future, do you? Let me look into my crystal ball. Ah, yes, the murky shadows are revealing themselves: I see you are about to go on a journey... a little journey into a tiny house of terror!

There, on that forlorn hill at the end of the road, it is the grim facade of old Skorrenfold Manor! A place well-known to juvenile delinquents, ghost hunters and thrill-seekers alike. Perhaps you have already seen it in your dreams, or your nightmares.

Some say that the spirits of old Captain Skorrenfold and his widow still wander the halls in the wee hours on moonlit nights, bemoaning the ruinous state of their home and whining about the spooks and uncouth beasts who have taken up residence there. You see, this house is haunted.

Open the rusty gate and go on up those crooked steps, if you dare! Go ahead, ring the doorbell, even, to alert the inhabitants of your presence. Since I can see your future, I know you already have!

Step into the drawing room and adjust your eyes to the infernal gloom. Old grandfather clock in the corner is just now striking midnight. Steady your racing heart and allow the unconscious phantasms of your optic nerve to resolve themselves into the concrete forms of all the spooks, spectres and creatures of the night. Now you see them! They are all around you! Do not be afraid. Why don't we let them show us around the place?

As was the custom at the time, the Skorrenfolds furnished this hall with trophies in a shameless display of ill-gotten wealth. Some of the souvenirs are said to be carriers of unsettled spirits. The taxidermy here bites. Pull the correct volume off the bookshelf and you will discover a secret chamber behind.

Watch your step in the drawing room, as there is a hidden trap door plunging to a watery pit full of carnivores. Speaking of that, you must avoid the basement at all costs, as there are many unspeakable acts going on down there. I, myself, have never summoned the courage to enter it.

Oh, the screams, the wailing and caterwauling, as the torturers downstairs ply their instruments of misery! It is surely awful. And in the dungeon next door, a team of medical students and resurrectionists are in residence, zealously practicing their chops in the dead of night. They are always looking for volunteer subjects, if you can spare some time and an extra organ or two.

Returning to the first floor, let us continue into the kitchen. Feeling peckish? Why not help yourself to a peeled grape or wet spaghetti noodle, or just scrounge in the cabinets for whatever ails you.

The kitchen is haunted by cooks preparing sustenance for the ever-growing numbers of beastly boarders and supernatural house guests, whatever their dietary needs: vegetarian or vampire, insectivore or cannibal. Idle hands are welcome to help prepare the large number of apples stuffed with razor blades to be given out on Halloween.

At the heart of the house is the grand hall where Captain Skorrenfold and his wife Martha once banqueted in lavish splendor. Legend has it that this is where she poisoned him with a bowl of tainted pea soup (though other stories swear the captain went down with his ship, lost in a thick fog). Alas, my crystal ball can only see the future, not the past. Numerous seances and parapsychological inquiries in this chamber have succeeded in levitating the table but not in unclouding the mystery of what terrible crimes cursed this house long ago.

Up the crooked stairs from the drawing room there is a tiny bedroom that once belonged to the Skorrenfold's only child. Master Julius spent many contented days here confined to his nursery. After his mysterious disappearance, the grief-stricken parents preserved the room as a memorial exactly as it was when he left at age twenty-three.

Do you notice the faint odor of sulfur and popcorn coming from the bed chambers? The late-night creature feature has just started, and all the insomniac ghouls are snug under the bedcovers ready to enjoy a good fright before bed to give them sweet night terrors.

Higher up is the attic, that cranial compartment of the house, where inconvenient heirlooms and relatives are consigned to be forgotten and gather dust. These quarters are crowded with all the lunatic, daft and downright batty creatures which haunt the recesses of the mind, waiting to be called forth by chance recollection or willful reflection. There may be treasures hidden in the clutter, but pilfer them carefully or you'll disturb the wistful creatures.

At last we reach the highest belfry, just in time to see the team of scientists reach the culmination of their experiments. Some say they are mad, but they seem quite delightful to me, at least when their work is going well, as it seems to be today. Can you feel the excitement in the room? Its almost electric!

Alas, the tower is the last stop on our tour. The present has caught up with the future and I must away. Good luck finding your way out, if you can! Ah ha ha ha ha!

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