The tape ended. Static. Then a whisper: “You’re in the sequel now, Steve. And the audience? They’re loving you.”
The second night, the piano played itself. Not a song—just one note. Middle C. Over and over. Steve unplugged the piano from the wall. It had never been electric. He slept in his car. a haunted house 2 -2014-
The old Asher place had stood empty for thirty-seven years. When Steve bought it at auction for back taxes, the townies just shook their heads. “You don’t know what you’re dragging home,” old Mrs. Cutter warned from her porch. Steve laughed. He was a skeptic, a part-time magician who made balloon animals at kids’ parties. Ghosts? Please. The tape ended
The lights went out. The grandfather clock chimed fourteen again. When they came back on, the Ouija board was on his cot. The planchette moved. It spelled: S-T-E-V-E—then—D-I-E—then—C-U-T—then—L-A-U-G-H. And the audience
Steve laughed. Then he noticed the date burned into the bottom of the frame: 10/31/2014. And in the corner of the video, reflected in a dark window, stood a figure that looked exactly like him—wearing the same clothes he had on right now.