When Elliot Marrin, a curious adventurer with a love for urban legends, accepted a dare to spend the night inside Harrowby Manor, he thought it would be an easy way to impress his friends. Rumors claimed the old mansion was haunted by mischievous spirits who loved playing pranks on anyone foolish enough to trespass. Elliot didnât believe in ghostsâat least, not until that night.
As the clock struck midnight, a strange chill filled the room. Elliot, exploring a dimly lit hallway, felt his jeans suddenly tug downward as if an invisible hand had grabbed them. He spun around, embarrassed but aloneâor so he thought. Then came the laughter. Soft, echoing giggles that seemed to bounce off the walls.
Before he could pull his pants back up, glowing strings of light wrapped around his wrists, lifting his arms like a puppet. His heart raced as he realized he was being controlledâlike a marionetteâby two translucent spirits that shimmered with ghostly blue light. The pair, Lira and Toven, had been lonely for decades, and Elliotâs arrival offered them a chance for some âfun.â
âDance, little mortal!â Lira teased, her laughter ringing like windchimes.
Despite his fear, Elliot tried to reason with them, promising to tell their story if they let him go. Amused, the ghosts agreedâon one condition: he must perform one final act, a dance of apology for disturbing their rest. The strings lifted him again, and Elliot, in nothing but his underwear, awkwardly twirled in the middle of the haunted hallway. When it was done, the ghosts bowed and vanished into a swirl of glowing mist.
The next morning, Elliot stumbled out of Harrowby Manor, exhausted but alive. His friends didnât believe a wordâuntil they saw faint glowing marks on his wrists, shaped like strings.
From that day on, Elliot never laughed at ghost stories again. But sometimes, in the quiet of his room, he could still hear faint laughter, tugging gently at the edges of his dreams.
