Dreamtime

It was a place of missing floor boards and waning enchantment. A hard place with no reflective surfaces. A mirror was frosted with dust.
Every single thing was broken. It was the prose of abandonment, a story with a narrative that's always spinning but never changing.
Being the shortest person in the group I was handed a small flashlight from a man's hand. Doll size.
I let it fall.
The scents of rotting wood, urine, and spilled beer in this place.
This is how I became haunted.