Crane stopped waving, his eyes scanning the bloody scene. The crowd scattered away like bugs.
Everything felt so real.
Hard to believe this is just a dream.
I'manincubus;Ishouldbeabletocontroldreams.
Looking behind Powder, subtle changes began to take shape—small shifts he made without her noticing.
His attention snapped back to her. She was trembling, fear written all over her face.
I should probably break the silence between us, he thought, gulping before speaking.
"Uh… sorry for, uh, dropping in like this. Literally."
Crane forced a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Didn't mean to ruin the, uh… celebration, Powder."
A beat of silence passed.
Powder stiffened. Her breath hitched.
Her body stiffened, a cold shiver crawling up her spine. Her eyes widened, fear creeping into her voice as she took a shaky step back.
"H-How… how do you know my name?"
Seeing her confusion, Crane smirked.
"I would assume that's your name written on the banner behind you?" he asked, knowing full well what he had done.
Powder turned, and sure enough, a banner with her name was hanging behind her.
Confusion flickered across Powder's face before it melted into passive acceptance.
Of course, there was a banner. It's been there the whole time.
Crane tilted his head, his smile unnerving.
"Don't you remember?" he asked, as if he hadn't just conjured it into existence.
Powder blinked, her fear momentarily flickering into uncertainty. Then, as if the thought had always been there, she nodded slowly.
"Oh… yeah. I remember now. They put it up in celebration," she mumbled, her gaze drifting back to the banner.
That made sense. Didn't it?
Crane's smile widened, finding strange satisfaction in Powder's confusion. There was something beautiful about how the mind could twist reality, how easily it could manipulate perception.
Deciding to push things further, Crane subtly waved his hand.
The world around them began to warp.
The air grew heavier, and the once lively street faded into something darker, more sinister.
The Last Drop, once a place full of life, now looked abandoned, its walls cracked and covered in grime. The flickering neon lights were gone, replaced by a dim, cold glow that barely illuminated the surroundings.
All the other buildings had vanished, leaving just the haunting silhouette of the tavern looming in the distance.
Powder turned to Crane, her heart racing. "I, uh, never got your name?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain, the tension between them thickening.
Crane's eyes filled with mischief as he looked back at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
Without a word, he snapped his fingers, and in an instant, he vanished—gone, leaving only a lingering chill behind.
Powder blinked, her breath caught in her throat. She was alone.
The silence that followed was suffocating, broken only by the faint sound of voices coming from the direction of the Last Drop.
They were indistinct, muttered voices, as if someone—something—was waiting for her inside.
Compelled by a mixture of fear and curiosity, Powder took a hesitant step forward, her footsteps echoing against the cracked pavement.
Slowly, she started walking toward the Last Drop, her heart pounding louder with each step.
Powder reached the entrance to the Last Drop, her heart racing. She pushed the door open, and the voices outside fell silent—as though they'd never existed at all.
The eerie quiet was almost worse than the noise had been.
The Last Drop was deserted. Empty cups still sat on the tables, their contents untouched, alcohol still inside them.
There was an unnatural stillness in the room. The once bustling, vibrant tavern now felt hollow and abandoned.
This isn't right, she thought, her legs feeling like lead as she took another step into the empty space.
Every instinct in her screamed to turn around, to leave, but her feet moved as if they were controlled by something else, drawing her further into the darkened room.
A faint creaking sound broke the silence. Powder froze, her body stiffening as she spun around, trying to locate the source of the sound.
She searched the dim corners of the Last Drop, but there was nothing there. No movement. No sign of life.
Taking a deep breath, she felt her heart pounding, its rapid beat loud in her ears.
Then it came again—a slow, deliberate creak.
This time, she realized it was coming from downstairs.
From her bedroom.
Thisisn'treal. Itcan'tbereal, she thought to herself.
With each step she took down the stairs, the wood beneath her feet groaned and creaked, as if the house itself was warning her to turn back.
She took a deep breath before slowly turning the doorknob and pushing the door open.
Inside her room, a rocking chair swayed back and forth, its creaking sound cutting through the silence.
Powder let out a sigh of relief, her body loosening slightly.
But then, the stairs behind her creaked louder and louder. The sound echoed through the house, each groan a reminder that she wasn't alone.
A cold tap on her shoulder made her freeze.
Her body told her to run, but she didn't.
She slowly turned around.
"BOO!"
Crane grinned, delivering the oldest trick in the book—a jump scare.
A chill crawled up her spine, her body frozen in place, refusing to move.
The air felt thick and suffocating, as if the room was closing in on her.
Her mouth felt dry. She couldn't swallow. Her pulse raced, and she wanted to scream, to run—but her legs wouldn't obey.
"Uh, Boo?" Crane said again, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips as he waited for her reaction, hoping to hear her scream in fear.
————————————-
Powder shot up from her bed, her breath ragged, eyes wide with fear.
Her scream echoed through the room, a shrill, panicked sound, as she gasped for air.
Tears streamed down her face, and snot dripped from her nose as her body trembled uncontrollably.
She clutched at the blankets around her, her heart racing like a wild drum in her chest.
The dream lingered in the corners of her mind, vivid and suffocating.
But as she looked around the room, the cold reality of being back in her own bed hit her, and she swallowed down the remnants of fear still gnawing at her.
"Just a dream," she whispered, her voice shaky, though the panic hadn't fully left her.
A shuffling sound came from above her before a red-haired figure jumped off the top bunk.
"That didn't sound like a dream, Powder. More like a nightmare," Vi said, walking over to Powder's bed.
Powder lunged at Vi, hugging her tightly. Her tear- and snot-covered face rubbed against Vi's shirt as she clung to her for comfort.
Vi just hugged her back, consoling Powder in her arms.
——————-
Crane'sastralbodyflickered,watchingthem.
Ithoughtshewashavingfun?
He imagined all the fun times he had in a haunted house.
Ah,thegoodolddays.
————————————
I had to make two different versions of this chapter because I didn't like the first one.