Manual para no heredar casas embrujadas

It’s funny how quickly your mind races when your knees are knocking together. In that moment, I knew something was wrong at the Julieta Mansion. And I knew exactly what it was—without a shadow of a doubt. Ghosts. Or, to be precise, a ghost haunting that house. I felt more terrified than I ever had in my entire life. Granted, my life hadn’t been particularly long or eventful, and I hadn’t had many chances to experience true, bone-chilling terror—but I believe there’s a sort of ceiling to fear: a level beyond which it simply cannot rise, no matter what happens to you.