"Hey, Johnathan! Hurry it up!" Chris yelled to his younger brother.

"Okay, Chris! Why don't you come?" John asked.

"Because, I dared you to spend five minutes in there alone!"

John sighed, knowing his 17 year old brother just wanted to try to scare him. But John wasn't afraid. He could spend an entire night in that shack found in the wheat field, that people claimed was haunted. Many times, he heard stories of noises and voices, figures running through the wheat, only to be dragged back by two silent figures, which looked nothing like humans.

As he started running through the field, the blades of the tall grass rubbing his body in neither a pleasing nor irritating way, he spotted the old, graffiti-covered shack in the distance. Careful not to trip on any small objects the wheat might have been hiding, he sprinted towards the 'black hole of a shack.' "All right, let's get this over with." John muttered as he set his watch for five minutes, and reached for the handle, ready to prove that ghosts didn't reside here, and that if they did, they couldn't harm him.

He grabbed the handle and pulled.

It wouldn't budge.

Just as he reached for the handle again, it flung open with a force that would have pushed him back a few feet, had he not been fast enough to jump back and dodge the unexpected attack.

As quickly as it opened, it slammed shut again, creating a loud BANG!

"Whoa!" Chris yelled. "Did you see that?"

"Son of a-! God, Chris, when did you get here?"

"To see if you chickened out on me, man! Try to get in again."

John sighed, but not wanting to seem weak to his older brother, reached for the handle for a third time.

It opened as any regular door should.

"What the...how did-?" John stuttered, when Chris shoved him in. John fell onto the floor of the shack as Chris started laughing, when some eerie lights started to flicker on in the small room, revealing what appeared to be an elevator.

Chris and John froze in place.

The door started to close, and John looked at Chris in a scared expression, forgetting that he didn't want to look weak, and begged for help with his piercing blue eyes.

Chris just looked in shock at him and backed away slowly, his turning form running away from the small shack his brother was being trapped in.

That was the last thing John saw before the door closed, and the elevator started to descend.

"Chris is...he's just getting some Vorts to come help me, or maybe Aunt Cleo! He wouldn't leave me here!"

He could have sworn he heard a feminine voice chuckle softly, softly saying in an eerily calm, cold voice, "He's not coming back."

He shuddered and watched as the gray walls moved upwards, once in a while breaking apart to reveal large, gray rooms, some of which he heard innocent, child-like voices calling out in a cold, singsong, almost calming way.

"Who's there?"

"Could you come over here?"

"Hello, friend."

He shrank to the sides of the elevator and slid to a sitting position on the floor, once again hearing that first voice chuckling softly again, as if she was softly reassuring him in a motherly way that everything was not going to be all right.

After a few more minutes of the small, innocent voices calling out to him, the elevator started slowing down, soon coming to a smooth stop in a giant, gray room, with a circular shape to it. He stepped out of the elevator cautiously, going down the small steps that led to the center of the room and looked around.

"If there are any spirits down here, I mean no disrespect, and I don't mean to trespass into your area." he recited, as he learned from old books to never insult the dead.

The chuckle bounced around the empty room quietly, and for once, John would have admitted it to anyone, even his brother:

He was afraid.

John walked around in the inner circle, looking frantically for a way of escape, remembering that the buttons on the elevator didn't provide words, stating 'up' or 'down', and he didn't want to accidentally push one that should have read 'self-destruct' or anything similar.

In his frantic searching, he nearly missed the writing on the wall.

He quickly yanked his head back, staring at the ominous red lettering.

This way ~

He ran towards the helpful hint, and noticed a panel slightly out of place, overlapping another, leaving a small gap. John placed his fingers in the gap and pulled, taking off the panel and crawling through the opening the lack of panel provided.

When the ceiling finally gave enough room for him to stand in, he did so, taking in his bearings. It looked like an old janitor's closet, with the pipes and all, but the eerie orange glow in place of a wall was screaming at John, "Not normal."

Something else also caught his eye. He saw smaller panels with stick people and various other decorations on them scattered across the floor, as well as some cans which read 'beans' and some jugs of some sort. He also noticed the computer parts, and in one of the computer bodies, he saw a pot resting in one.

As he picked up the pot, something else caught his eye.

Drawings. Wherever the orange glow wasn't and walls were in there rightful place, drawings covered the walls. Drawn quite obviously by the person who helped him find this place. He saw some cubes on the walls, some lady in an orange jumpsuit seemed to be quite popular, some oval-shaped things, quoting the phrases he heard while he was coming down here, and writing which was so messy, he couldn't really read it.

"You're not going the right way..." a cold, robotic voice called out to him.

He looked once more to find a way out, and noticed another small passageway, leading John to something that would change his life forever.

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