[center][b][color=fff79a][h2][img]http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/313/c/b/ezimba__6__by_viveve-d6touz9.gif[/img] Andy Anderson [img]http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2013/313/c/b/ezimba__6__by_viveve-d6touz9.gif[/img][/h2][/color][/b]
[color=a187be]"... The butt ghost musta got him! What ever shall we DO!?” [/color] said Theresa. [color=a187be] “Or maybe, he took a dump in the haunted toilet and it sucked him innnnnnnn! Ha!" [/color]

[i][color=fff79a]…butt ghost?[/color][/i] Andy ran through a mental check of all the ghosts he’d ever heard of. The “butt ghost” that Theresa mentioned… didn’t seem to be something he recalled.

Maybe he’d look it up afterwards.

But still—there were lots of skeptics in this particular group of people. Theresa, Sidney, Lillith… well, they were still part of the club, and while Andy really did believe in ghosts rather sincerely (sincerely enough to get labeled a bit of a wackjob, to be honest), he could see why people would be doubtful.

After all—even he hadn’t [i]really[/i] seen a ghost before. Or… well, there’d been that one time in his neighbor’s garden, but. He’d never actually seen anything particularly definitive. He’d just done a whole lot of research into things like this.

[color=8882be]"Well duh. After that comment Lillith made, the guy probably was upset. We all know Brody's a sensitive wittle baby~"[/color] said Sidney, interjecting herself into the situation. [color=8882be]"He probably was upset and left. Case closed."[/color] She shrugged, looking pleased.

[color=f6989d]"Sidney, aren't you cold? I'm not sure I believe in ghosts, but something just feels off,"[/color] said Tori. She’d opened up the bag of salt, Andy noticed.

Well, good for her. He was liking her more and more by the minute. Usually he’d give a location the benefit of the doubt, but this place really [i]did[/i] have strong evidence (if you could call it that) connected to it, and…

Well, it gave him the creeps, to be honest.

He smiled reassuringly at Tori, but turned away to check out the rest of the room. Sidney was offering Tori her jacket— how nice of her. Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all.

[color=8882be]"I hope the ghostie isn't camera shy~"[/color] hummed Sidney.

Andy looked up from the sink that he was inspecting. The metal spout was spotted with rust, but said rust looked… oddly redder than it should have. He turned the tap on absentmindedly. [color=fff79a]“I’m not really into taking pictures myself,”[/color] he offered hesitantly. [color=fff79a]“But I heard that having a ghost in the frame corrupts the picture. If you printed it out, though, then you might be able to see it. I’ve heard a lot of different theories about this, though, so I’m not sure.”[/color]

There. A peace offering. Photography advice from the school's resident ghost buff. Yeah, now that he thought about it... his advice probably meant nothing to her.

He looked down. Rust was mixing into the water as it swirled down the drain, leaving red stains on the sides of the porcelain sink. 

Somehow, that seemed like a bad sign. A very, very bad sign.

The lights flickered, and Andy glanced up sharply at the single, antiqued-looking lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something move in the mirror, but when he looked back, there was nothing. Just Sidney, Theresa and Tori, and the rest of the club just beyond the door.

And that, of course, was when the lights went out all together.

Andy flinched, and promptly tripped. He caught himself on the sink, but his glasses went flying… somewhere. Well, fuck.

He could still see the rest of the club outside, silhouetted in the light from the hallway, but it was dark as hell. The frosted glass window was [i]not[/i] doing much for visibility.

[color=fff79a]“You three okay?” [/color]he said, and took a step forward.

Something crunched under his sneaker. Oh, Christ-on-a-shish-kebab. Those… were his glasses, weren’t they?

They’d been nice glasses, too. And expensive. [color=fff79a]All I have for back-up are contacts,[/color] he thought, feeling vaguely frustrated. But now really wasn't the time.

Something breezed past him, brushing against the nape of his neck. It felt like… fingers. Cold, chilly fingers, running down his neck. He jerked forwards even more, unwilling to let go of his baseball bat. In the darkness, though, he didn’t know how he was going to use it without killing someone by accident. [i]What the [i]fuck—[/i][/i]

Rustling noises. He thought he could hear muffled sobbing sounds, from the direction of the stalls, but… none of the three girls who’d come in with him had been crying, had they?

Was it… the wind? But it couldn’t be. They were indoors, for crying out loud.

Fucking hell. He could only just barely see the outlines of the other club members.

[color=fff79a]“Be careful,” [/color]he said, raising his voice. It echoed oddly in the darkened room. [color=fff79a]“And get ready with that salt, Tori. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I think it has Brody, and it’s sure as hell not happy that we’re here to get him back.”[/color]
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