Narrative

Time was now our on our side. With the sun setting and the sky quickly changing to black, we prepared for our journey. It had long been said that the abandoned monastery in Glen Ellyn was haunted and that those who wandered the corroding halls would meet the after life. My friend Liz, who accompanied my best friend Jack and I, had heard from her sister that if you were in the halls late at …

…to call you earlier because we thought we might give you away, but we left almost right after you guys walked across the street,” he said. “So it wasn’t you guys yelling our names in the field?” I questioned. “No we’ve been at my house for a half hour now,” he responded. I hung up the phone and felt a chill go down my spine. Then who the hell was yelling our names?