Rabe's Campefire Storys

Dark Fire Series

Wooden Memories


Francis hated Darkness. But he hated Light more.
His World was and is the Forests. The sound of wood crunching under his boots. The screams of the birds. The curses of the squirrels. „Aaaah…“, he sighed as he adjusted his backpack.
Even if his destination was a deserted spot under the tall trees, the woodland path was well maintained. Maybe because nobody who has no sense of adventure got lost here.
He tried his luck with singing, which as expected could only go wrong without playback. Francis would have loved to put on his headphones, but he had to stay alert. And it was a good meditation exercise in endurance.

After fifteen minutes of stomping he stepped on the half-open clearings. The weathered three-storey House once belonged to a large family. Both the family name and the tradition they carried out were forgotten and Legends were separated in their place.

Francis looked tired to the building and than on his watch. He would not visit the House until tomorrow. You didn't have to challenge your luck if you went to a Ghost House at night. „It'll be work to make everything Aberrant safe,“ he thought as he seted the tent up.



Yawning and moaning loudly, Francis stood in front of his tent that he had placed in the middle of a heptagonal star of salt and iron candlesticks in the tips. Waking he watched the House that fortunately had not decided to disappear. After he had made himself a tea, he looked at the plan with the floor plan. In the town's own Library he had found some tarpaulins in the archives of similar buildings, which had apparently been built like pouring companies.
„It's best if I work my way up from the ground floor. I'll see if there is a cellar. It wasn't clear if there was one. probably. “, he was thinking loudly. The unnatural silence that was in the clearing gave the feeling as if one had been isolated from the first of the world.
Twenty minutes preparation he stood with a small bag in front of the house. He breathed deeply before shouting out loud: "I'm not afraid". A quirk that builds on his thesis that Ghosts and the Undead lose some of their power if you were not afraid of them. And what is the best way to do that? By encouraging oneself.
Francis tried to get the front door open with a lock pick, even more to upset the house spirits, was not so clever. He would have liked to use the original key, but of course it was no longer available.
Clicking and creaking, he opened it. He knocks on the wood,

German:
, bevor er eintrat, um durch den Aberglauben sein Glück wieder zu recht zu richten. Wie ein Nebel, umfasste ihn die Düsternis in kurzen Gang, der diesen länger wirken lies. Mit einem click-clack sprang seine Taschenlampe an und der Lichtstrahl frass sich durch die Dunkelheit. Er lief in die Mitte der kleinen Eingangsbereich. Francis zögernde. Ihn machte etwas misstrauisch. Er könnte nicht konkret sagen was. Vielleicht die ohrenbetäubend Stille. Oder das grösstenteils Fehlen von Spinnweben. Er zog die Luft durch die Nase. Kein auffallenderer Geruch. Alles war beunruhigend durchschnittlich. Er sah zur Tür.
Sie noch da.
Zwar hatte er von lebenden Häuser von seinen Freunden bei HOPE gehört, doch die konnte man wortwörtlich riechen. Wie Fliegenfallen für Insekten, waren sie unwiderstehlich für Wirbeltiere. Doch der letzte dokumentierte Fall war Jahre her.
Gleich welche Situation es war, es war schlimmer als wenn sich der Teppich als Zunge herausstellte oder ihm morsche Balken über seinen Kopf zusammenbrechen.
Überaus angespannt schlich er weiter Richtung Wohnzimmer. In diesem Raum standen die alten Möbel, ausgetrocknet, kaum vom Regen und der Fauna angegriffen. Vor dem Kamin machte er hat. Es war so posituirrt, dass es an einer der inneren Wände stand. Wie es sich gehört standen Fotorahmen auf dem Sims.
Francis fischte einen Recorder hervor. Eine weitere Eigenartig, die er sich angewöhnt hatte, seit ihm einer das Leben gerettet hat, den er gefunden hat, in dem der Norman genau beschrieben hatte, was für ein Aberront es war.
„Ich stehe in Wohnzimmer. Auffallend: Keine Anzeichen, gleich ob von der Anwesenheit noch Absenz von Gefahr.“

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