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As Jack opened the door, he saw Ray searching the shelves, looking like he had lost something. Raymond was himself confused, had he misplaced it? He had sworn he had it a moment ago. "Ray," said Jack, wondering if he would know anything about this, "Is there such things as ghosts?"

"Not that I know of," said Ray, not looking back, "You havn't seen my inventory have you?" he said. His forte was antiques, not exactly the encycolpedia of the supernatural. "Well, I think we may have one," said Jack, "Some creepy horror film stuff is going on." Ray was not exactly impressed by this, "You probably just seeing things," he said, thinking that on a night like this, scaring yourself was easy, and Jack was as human as any other protochild, despite his wolfish tendencies. He then caught sight of the corner of a folder atop the bookcase, reacing up and bringing it down, looking at the sheet he had been looking for. How it had gotten up there, he had no clue, "Just the storm and an overactive imagination," he said, before noting a creaking sound that was escalating behind him. He turned in time to see the bookcase tilt, and then a cascade of books fall on top of him, followed by the shelf.

Jack move in, pushing the bookcase off the old mummy, who poped a shoulder back into place, checking what was left of his body to make sure everything was in place. "Believe me now?" said Jack, to which Ray gave him a look, "I concede nothing!" he said, pulling himself to his feet. As if in response, the door flung itself shut with a shotgun like bang, two bloodstained handprints on the back of it as if someone had shoved it shut. It dripped as the blood spelled out the words "GET OUT,".

"Come on," said Ra, unimpressed, "That's just tacky."
Before you criticize someone, you should walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.
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Everyday(Haunting) · The Cemetary