First timer

Previously

…As I spoke, a faint tremor ran through the floorboards beneath my feet. It was a subtle vibration, almost imperceptible, but I felt it. It wasn't the violent slam of a door, or the chilling whisper in the dark. It was a response. A acknowledgment. The Presence was listening. And for the first time, I felt a flicker of something other than terror: a desperate, nascent hope. The house was a prison, but perhaps, just perhaps, Eleanor’s journal held the key to its escape. I just had to find it, before the walls closed in completely. The lingering scent of decay, however, seemed to intensify, a silent, ominous promise that the true battle had only just begun.