To be alone. Under a tree. In a garden. No people. No sounds. Only the birds chirping. The smell of the grass. The heat of the sun. What is that sound? Oh, the wind rustling the leaves. How beautiful. How relaxing. How perfect. Oh no. I hear more sounds. It’s turning dark. The sun has retreated. Someone is coming. I can’t see who it is. It can’t be. I’m dust in the wind.
End House holds secrets. It holds living beings in its walls. Creatures dying to get out. Screaming without sound. Pushing their arms and legs through the walls, hoping to escape. But there’s no escape. The guests of the party will soon discover the sad truth. No one leaves the house without resulting consequences. And some may not leave at all. Who will live? Who will die? Only The Dead know.