As reporter Monty Craig entered the tower on the hill, grasping the anonymous tip he had received, he hoped this story would save his struggling career.
Monty pushed the old wooden door. “Ow!” he exclaimed as a splinter from the old door ripped into his left pinkie.
The wind whistled through the window and slammed the door shut. Shrills shot down Monty’s spine at the sight of an eight-legged arachnid feasting on him with his eyes. Silence crept in and enshrouded the sound of his heartbeat rising. Dust filled Monty’s nose, and it formed a cloud as he sneezed. “Achoo!” The sudden movement made the sweat from his forehead trickle into his mouth.
“CREEEEAK,” an empty rocking chair croaked. When Monty looked at the antique, he realized he wasn’t alone. 
Two gloomy, dull eyes stared straight at him. In that moment, a candle sputtered to life, exposing a mysterious man’s entire face. Red veins, reached out of his eyes, and seemed to call for help. Monty could not part his own eyes from the monstrosity. The shriveled man looked like he had not eaten for weeks. Bite marks on his lower lip revealed a great deal of stress.
As he rocked in the creaky piece of wood he kept saying, “What have I done, what have I done?” He did not blink. He looked frightened, like he had just seen a ghost.
Monty had to ask, “What did you do?”
The man kept going, “What have I done, what have I done?”
Monty leaned and responded, “Maybe I can help?”
The man replied, “There’s no going back.”
A million thoughts marched among Monty’s mind. How famous will I get for this story? I have to stay here and figure this out. What will my boss think of this? Wha-
“There’s no going back. There’s no going back. There’s. No. Going. Back.”
The man’s muttering interrupted Monty.
“BAM!”
A rumble of thunder made Monty glance out of the opened window. Trickles of water sprayed the interior of the tower. The wind blew open the door, put out the man’s candle, and blackened Monty’s surroundings. There was total darkness. He walked to the side table to relight the candle and he noticed that the man wasn’t in the rocking chair anymore. Monty searched his pockets for matches and, at last, he found one. He lit the candle, turned around, and saw the man’s glooming, red-veined eyes staring straight into his.
“You did this. You did this. You did th-“
“I didn’t do anything,” interrupted Monty.
The man continued, “You did this. You did this.”
Monty searched for the letter in his pocket that had given him the tip about the tower. He found it and read to himself, “There is a tower on a hill just past Hinton’s Lake. Inside, there will be an unexpected who may look familiar. He has committed a crime but remains unpunished.”
Distracted, Monty backed up to the open window and looked up from the letter to see the man five feet in front of him. The angered man charged towards Monty with both of his shaking, yet strong-looking hands. As the man aimed to push him out of the window, Monty ducked out of the way. He had a sudden pain in his back as if kinetic energy had gotten the best of him. Monty stood up and remembered that he was in a totally different scene, flooded with light and running water. A wanted sign revealed itself:
WANTED: This man for the murder of his wife, Diane Craig.
His wife? Who was this man? Monty searched the poster and realized he was looking in a mirror. He felt water rush over the bathroom sink as he stared straight into his own eyes.