Mickey Madhouse

Faintly, as you head deeper and deeper into the twisting ropes that used to hold many people, you start to hear a slow and deliberate tapping noise coming from behind one of the stone graves. “Oh, they must have kept some of the sound effects on,” you start to reassure yourself, “Yeah, that’s it…” This thought brings you some comfort, but still some part of you wants to make sure nothing is there, so you slowly turn the corner to look behind the dark gray stone bricks. Just as you step onto the calming rock path leading you behind the graves, you feel a small pinch at the top of your spine. You see an empty syringe fall to the floor as you drop along beside it.