Chapter 1 – “The Orphanage That Time Forgot”

The livestream counter ticked upward as QueenGypsy adjusted the camera strapped to her chest rig. Over 42,000 Royal Nation followers were watching live — sending waves of black heart emojis, skulls, and the occasional “YOU’RE INSANE” GIF.

“Alright, Royal Nation fam,” QueenGypsy whispered into her mic, stepping backward until the orphanage loomed perfectly behind her. The structure rose like a rotting skeleton against the dying orange sky, its jagged roofline cutting shadows across the courtyard. “We’re officially outside Gravesend Orphanage — TikTok’s most banned location. Forty-six kids disappeared here in 1972. Police called it an ‘unsolved tragedy.’ Locals call it… cursed. Naturally, I call it: content.”

The chat blew up immediately:

“QUEENGYPSY STOPPPPPP 😭”
“you’re rlly trying to die for clout”
“im just here waiting for a ghost to yeet her 😭👻”

Harper, wrapped tightly in her oversized hoodie, groaned audibly behind her. “Can we not start by taunting the haunted orphanage, Gypsy?”

QueenGypsy winked at the lens. “And that, Royal Nation, is Harper — professional skeptic, expert screamer, and designated snack carrier.”

“Excuse me,” Harper shot back, “I am not designated snack carrier. I’m here for moral support.”

Liam snorted, tightening the straps on his thermal cam. “Translation: Harper’s here to record her panic attack for TikTok.”

“Joke’s on you,” Harper muttered. “I’m billing you for therapy.”

Crossing the Gate

The rusted gate creaked open with a groan, the metal warped and nearly fused shut from decades of neglect. As they stepped through, the air shifted instantly. The temperature plummeted, thick and heavy, like stepping into a vacuum.

“Whoa,” Liam muttered, rubbing his arms. “Anyone else freezing?”

“It’s eighty-two degrees outside,” Harper whispered, shivering anyway.

QueenGypsy flicked on the EMF meter, holding it up to the camera. The needle spiked violently into the red.

“Royal Nation fam,” she said dramatically, “for those who don’t know, EMF spikes indicate paranormal activity. For those who do know, yes, we’re screwed.”

The chat exploded again:

“DONT GO INNNN”
“nahhh id be home rn 😂”
“EMF SPIKE = GET OUT”

Inside Gravesend

The orphanage doors resisted before finally giving way with a metallic screech. Dust poured from the crack like smoke, and Harper instantly pulled her hoodie over her nose.

The inside was exactly as legend promised — frozen in time. Tiny cribs lay toppled over, sheets yellowed and crumbling. A single rocking horse stood in the middle of the foyer, its paint chipped, one glass eye missing.

QueenGypsy aimed the camera down a long hallway lined with peeling wallpaper patterned with tiny, hand-painted roses.

“Look at this,” she whispered, panning slowly. “It’s like they just… left.”

Suddenly, the spirit box burst alive with static.

“…come… play…”

Liam froze, staring at the device. “That wasn’t interference.”

The static hissed again, and this time a child’s giggle rippled faintly through the hallway.

“Okay,” Harper whispered, pressing closer to QueenGypsy. “That’s it. That’s my limit. I quit.”

QueenGypsy smirked at the camera. “Royal Nation, meet Harper’s limit. It’s the sound of a ghost toddler.”

Then, without warning, the rocking horse started moving.

At first, it was subtle — a soft creak, a gentle sway.

Then it slammed backward violently, clattering against the wall.

Harper screamed so loud the livestream chat lit up with laughing emojis.

“HARPER JUMPED OUT HER SOUL LMAO”
“bro RUN 😭😭😭”
“this is why white ppl die first in horror movies”

The Ball

Liam set the thermal cam on the ground, aiming it down the hallway, while QueenGypsy crouched near the playroom door.

“Look at this,” she whispered.

Inside the playroom, tiny chairs were scattered across the floor. A cracked chalkboard still bore faded names written in childish handwriting. Toys were frozen mid-play, and in the center sat a red rubber ball.

QueenGypsy gestured to Harper. “Want to make friends?”

“Absolutely not,” Harper said flatly.

Grinning, QueenGypsy leaned forward and gave the ball a gentle tap, letting it roll across the dusty floor. It stopped against the opposite wall.

“See? Totally safe,” she teased.

The ball paused.

Then rolled back toward her — uphill.

The entire team froze.

“Liam…” QueenGypsy whispered.

He shook his head slowly. “Floor’s level. That shouldn’t…”

Before he could finish, the ball slammed into her foot.

Then rolled itself back to the center of the room.

The livestream chat exploded:

“NAHHHHHHHHH”
“ITS PLAYING WITH YOUUUU”
“GYPSY LEAVE NOWWW”

The First Shadow

Harper grabbed QueenGypsy’s arm. “I’m serious, we need to go. This isn’t cute anymore.”

But QueenGypsy’s camera caught something behind Harper in the playroom mirror.

A small, pale handprint appeared on the glass.

Then another.

Then a third — impossibly high up, as if someone climbed the wall.

The livestream chat began spamming messages so fast they blurred:

“LOOK BEHIND YOU”
“TOP RIGHT CORNER 👀”
“THERE’S A FACE IN THE MIRROR”

QueenGypsy slowly turned.

There was nothing there.

But the livestream replay showed it crystal clear:
A little boy, face half-burned, standing directly behind her.

The Door Slams

Without warning, the heavy orphanage door slammed shut behind them with an earsplitting bang. Harper screamed. Liam cursed.

“Okay,” QueenGypsy breathed, forcing calm into her voice. “Rule number one: never run when the ghosts want you to.”

“Rule number two,” Harper snapped, “is never come here in the first place!”

Before QueenGypsy could respond, the music box sitting on a dusty dresser began playing — soft, slow, broken notes.

Liam swallowed hard. “We didn’t touch that.”

The melody warped, dragging unnaturally low, until the final note cracked like a scream.

And then the lights from Liam’s thermal cam flickered violently.

On-screen, five glowing child-sized figures stood perfectly still in the hallway.

When he blinked, they were gone.

“Royal Nation…” QueenGypsy whispered, looking directly into the camera now. “If you can see anything we can’t… type it. Right now.”

The chat exploded in chaos, hundreds of users screaming the same thing:

“LOOK UPSTAIRS.”

Chapter 2 – “Children Shouldn’t Play Here”

The spirit box screamed to life.

A burst of white noise, sharp and jagged, filled the orphanage’s foyer until it distorted into a voice — a child’s voice — rasping, glitching, overlapping with itself:

“Gypsy… upstairs.”

Liam turned pale. “Nope. Nope nope nope.”

Harper was already backing toward the door. “The ghosts can keep their upstairs. I vote downstairs. Or better yet, outside. Or maybe Fiji.”

QueenGypsy aimed the camera straight into the pitch-black staircase, trying to steady her breathing. “Royal Nation fam,” she whispered into the mic, “the spirit box just told us to go upstairs. Either this is the boldest ghost in TikTok history… or the dumbest.”

The chat instantly exploded:

“NOOOO DON’T LISTEN”
“GYPSY GET OUT RN”
“omg this is bad this is so bad”

Then one comment pinned itself automatically — nobody on the team touched the screen:

“Don’t follow them, Gypsy. They want you.”

Harper saw it first and grabbed QueenGypsy’s wrist. “Okay, so TikTok’s haunted too. Love that. We’re leaving.”

But QueenGypsy hesitated, glancing back toward the stairs. The EMF meter buzzed violently, red lights flickering in rapid bursts. She looked at the lens, forcing a shaky grin:

“Royal Nation… should we go upstairs?”

The chat detonated — 90% screamed NO, but a few users spammed something stranger:

“You have to finish the game.”
“Play with them.”
“You can’t leave yet.”

Liam frowned, muttering under his breath. “Why are they saying that? That’s not normal.”

Harper hissed, “Nothing about this is normal!”

The Second Floor

They climbed the staircase slowly, each step groaning beneath their weight. The air grew colder the higher they went, their breath misting in thick clouds.

Halfway up, the livestream glitched violently — the screen pixelating, freezing, and then resuming with completely different angles.

For a split second, viewers saw something none of them did:

Dozens of children lined up along the second-floor hallway, heads tilted, faces pale and slack.

Behind them, something tall crouched in the shadows, its limbs bent wrong, its face hidden.

But when QueenGypsy panned the camera around, the hallway was empty.

The chat went berserk:

“KIDS. THERE ARE KIDS.”
“THERE’S SOMETHING BEHIND THEM”
“GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT”

Liam cursed softly, checking the thermal cam. It was glitching, but one thing was clear: four small heat signatures darted across the hallway ahead — fast.

Then a door creaked open at the far end.

The Nursery

Inside, the nursery walls were lined with cribs, most overturned, some shattered. Old toys littered the floor — broken dolls, tiny shoes, and piles of yellowed blankets.

QueenGypsy crouched, lifting a blanket and revealing a dust-covered photograph underneath. She brushed it off carefully, holding it to the light.

Four children stared back at her.

Their faces blurred into static the moment she looked too long.

“Royal Nation,” she whispered to the camera, “I’m holding a photo from the ‘72 investigation. This might be the—”

A loud bang cut her off.

The nursery door slammed shut, locking them in.

Harper screamed, pounding on the wood. “No. No no no. Absolutely not.”

The EVP recorder crackled to life again, the voice now distorted, deeper:

“Playtime’s… over.”

Then the cribs began rocking on their own.

Livestream Interference

“Gypsy,” Liam said slowly, staring at his phone, “you need to see this.”

He turned the screen toward her.

The livestream was ten seconds ahead of them.

On-screen, the nursery door behind QueenGypsy swung open, and something crawled into the room — low, fast, wrong.

But in real life, the door was still shut.

QueenGypsy swallowed hard. “Royal Nation… if you see something… we don’t… keep typing it.”

The chat flooded instantly:

“THERE’S SOMEONE UNDER THE CRIB”
“nope. nope. nope.”
“why is it smiling like that 😭”

Suddenly, Harper froze mid-sentence, her breath hitching. “Gypsy,” she whispered. “Don’t look down.”

QueenGypsy turned slowly, pointing the camera under the nearest crib.

A pair of tiny pale hands clung to the underside, knuckles white, shaking violently.

“Hey, kiddo?” she whispered, crouching lower.

Then the hands jerked back violently, dragging something into the shadows beneath the floor.

And the boards beneath them thumped once. Twice. Then fell silent.

The Crawling Thing

Liam aimed the thermal cam at the floor.

Nothing.

But the EVP recorder screamed.

Not a voice. Not static. Screams. Dozens of children, overlapping, echoing, breaking into static before fading.

The lights flickered violently.

And then they saw it.

A shape — small, pale, fast — scuttling across the ceiling upside down.

Harper shrieked and fell backward, crawling frantically away. Liam dropped the thermal cam, smashing it against the floor.

QueenGypsy stared up, holding the camera steady as the livestream captured the impossible:

The thing turned its head completely backward, locking eyes with her, and grinned — a mouth impossibly wide, split ear to ear.

Then it hissed.

And disappeared.

“They Want You”

Suddenly, QueenGypsy’s phone buzzed violently.

She pulled it from her vest — a direct message notification from an unknown TikTok account. No username. No profile picture. Just one message:

“GYPSY. DON’T FOLLOW THEM.”

She frowned, showing it to Liam. “Did one of you—”

Before she finished, Harper screamed.

The photograph in QueenGypsy’s hand was changing.

The four children were gone.

Replaced by three adults.

Them.

And standing behind them… a blurred shadow stretching floor to ceiling.

The Door Opens

Without warning, the nursery door creaked open. Slowly. Too slowly.

Beyond it, the hallway lights flickered, revealing a trail of tiny wet footprints leading deeper into the orphanage.

QueenGypsy raised the camera, her voice low and steady: “Royal Nation fam… we follow or we leave. Drop ‘STAY’ or ‘RUN’ in chat. Your call.”

Within seconds, the vote spammed across the screen:

STAY.
STAY.
STAY.

Harper slapped the phone out of her hand. “ARE YOU ALL INSANE?!”

But QueenGypsy smiled faintly, eyes fixed on the trail.

“Guess we’re staying.”

And as they stepped into the hallway, the livestream glitched violently again — freezing for several seconds before showing future footage:

QueenGypsy standing alone, covered in blood, whispering into the camera:

“I told you… they only wanted me.”

Then the feed cut to black.

Chapter 3 – “Voices in the Walls”

The hallway beyond the nursery stretched endlessly, bathed in pale moonlight spilling through shattered windows. The trail of tiny wet footprints glimmered faintly, winding into the dark.

QueenGypsy aimed the camera down the hall, her voice hushed. “Royal Nation fam… we’re following the footprints. If this video suddenly cuts, you know what happened.”

The chat blew up instantly:

“NOOOO STAY IN THE NURSERY”
“ur so dumb for this 😭”
“my volume is OFF and i’m STILL scared”

Harper muttered under her breath, hugging her hoodie tight. “This is stupid. This is beyond stupid.”

Liam shot her a look. “You say that every time, but you’re still here.”

Harper glared. “Yeah, because SOMEONE has to keep Gypsy alive for her TikTok clout.”

QueenGypsy smirked faintly. “Aw, Harp. You do care.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Harper hissed, but she stuck close anyway.

The First Voice

As they turned the corner, the EVP recorder in Liam’s pocket crackled violently. A faint, layered whisper came through — dozens of voices overlapping like tangled radio static.

“…play… come play… play with us…”

Harper froze, pressing closer to QueenGypsy. “Nope. Nope. Do you hear that? That’s kids. Actual kids.”

QueenGypsy raised an eyebrow, aiming the camera at her. “That is why we came here, Harp. Missing kids, haunted orphanage, remember?”

Harper shook her head rapidly. “Hearing voices and being invited to play are two very different situations!”

Suddenly, the voices stopped.

The silence was louder than the static had been.

Then, a single child’s voice — clear, soft, and close — whispered directly into QueenGypsy’s ear:

“Found you.”

She spun around.

No one there.

But the livestream chat detonated:

“GYPSY BEHIND YOUUUU”
“you’re NOT alone”
“there’s a LITTLE GIRL there omg”

QueenGypsy aimed the camera behind her — nothing but empty hallway.

But the livestream replay showed a small figure standing right behind her, pale and dripping wet.

Harper Changes

They followed the wet footprints into another hallway where faded murals lined the walls — stick-figure drawings of smiling children holding hands, their painted faces peeling away.

As they passed, Harper slowed, staring blankly at the mural.

“Harper?” QueenGypsy called softly.

No answer.

She stepped closer, waving a hand in front of her face. “Harp? Earth to—”

Harper turned suddenly, her movements stiff, unnatural. Her pupils were blown wide, black swallowing almost all the color.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice deeper, layered with something else.

QueenGypsy froze. “…Don’t what?”

“Don’t wake them up.”

Before anyone could react, Harper slammed her hands against the wall, clawing at the painted stick figures.

Liam grabbed her arm. “Harp! Stop!”

She turned to him sharply, her face twisted, lips curling back into a snarl — but not hers. Her voice came out high-pitched, like a chorus of children speaking at once:

“She’s ours.”

QueenGypsy stumbled backward, clutching the camera. “Harper, snap out of it! That’s not you!”

For a split second, Harper froze, trembling violently. Then she collapsed into QueenGypsy’s arms, gasping.

“What… the hell… was that?” she croaked, eyes returning to normal.

Liam stared at her, pale and shaking. “That wasn’t you talking.”

QueenGypsy looked directly at the camera, breathing hard. “Royal Nation fam, Harper just got possessed. Someone clip this, we need timestamps.”

The chat spammed instantly:

“HER EYES WEREN’T RIGHT 😭”
“never coming to gravesend orphanage ever”
“this LIVE needs to be ILLEGAL”

TikTok Glitch

Liam glanced down at his phone. “Gypsy… the livestream’s weird again.”

He turned the screen toward her.

The viewers’ comments were gone. Replaced by a single repeated message filling the entire chat window:

“LET HER STAY.”

QueenGypsy frowned. “Who’s ‘her’?”

Before Liam could respond, the spirit box erupted:

“…Gypsy…”

They froze.

Then the EVP recorder hissed violently and screamed:

“STAY.”

Harper grabbed Gypsy’s wrist hard. “Nope. Nope, that’s it. We’re leaving. I don’t care if the ghosts cash app me rent money — I’m gone.”

The Hallway Shift

They turned to leave, but the hallway behind them… was gone.

Where they’d come from was now an unbroken wall of cracked plaster and painted murals.

Liam swore loudly. “No. No, this is impossible.”

QueenGypsy aimed the camera at the wall. “Royal Nation fam, the hallway literally just disappeared. Please tell me you’re seeing this.”

The chat erupted instantly:

“you’re TRAPPED”
“gypsy this isn’t a joke GET OUT”
“don’t follow the footprints!!”

But when they turned forward, the trail of tiny wet footprints had grown brighter, like fresh blood glistening in moonlight.

And down the hall, a door slowly creaked open on its own.

The Playroom

Inside, dozens of dusty toys sat perfectly arranged in a circle on the cracked wooden floor. A single music box played softly, out of tune.

In the center of the circle sat a small porcelain doll, its glass eyes cracked, lips chipped into a faint smile.

QueenGypsy crouched carefully, camera aimed at the doll. “Royal Nation fam, if this doll moves, I’m suing Netflix for manifesting this moment.”

Harper whispered behind her, voice shaking: “Don’t… touch it.”

Liam muttered, “If we burn it now, we cut the sequel early.”

QueenGypsy grinned faintly — then froze as the livestream chat began spamming:

“ITS BLINKING”
“GYPSY DONT PICK IT UP”
“look at its HAND”

She looked closer.

The doll’s porcelain fingers were twitching.

The Whisper Game

Suddenly, the lights in the room snapped off.

Pitch black.

QueenGypsy’s mic picked up ragged breathing — hers, Harper’s, Liam’s… and something else.

A small, childlike giggle drifted from the corner.

Then a whisper, so soft it seemed to crawl directly into her ears:

“If you want to leave… trade.”

“Trade what?” QueenGypsy whispered shakily.

The EVP recorder clicked violently, spitting out a single word:

“…you.”

Harper screamed. Liam cursed.

And then, before anyone could move, the doll in the center of the room turned its head toward QueenGypsy.

Its cracked lips parted.

“Tag.”

The Chase

Every toy in the room exploded outward violently, clattering against walls as the lights stuttered back on.

The wet footprints on the floor spread rapidly, spiraling around them until they were trapped in the center of the circle.

From the hallway came a chorus of children’s voices, layered, overlapping, impossible:

“Run.”

QueenGypsy grabbed Harper and Liam, bolting for the open door. The EVP recorder screamed, the spirit box wailed, and the livestream feed glitched violently — frame-skipping, doubling images, freezing on faces that weren’t theirs.

As they sprinted into the hallway, the doors slammed shut behind them one by one.

Until only one door remained open.

QueenGypsy hesitated, panting. “Royal Nation fam… we either go through this door… or we die here.”

Harper whispered hoarsely, “Those are not mutually exclusive.”

QueenGypsy turned the camera toward the open doorway — pure blackness beyond.

“Guess we find out,” she whispered.

She stepped inside.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Chapter 4 – “When the Walls Start Whispering”

The darkness inside the doorway was absolute. No moonlight. No reflections. No sound.

The TikTok live chat spammed nonstop, comments rolling so fast the app almost crashed:

“TURN BACKKK”
“my screen keeps glitching??”
“someone’s breathing on ur mic 😭”

QueenGypsy held the camera steady, forcing a grin despite the pounding in her chest. “Okay, Royal Nation fam… either we just stepped into a new dimension, or Liam forgot to pay the electric bill.”

Liam groaned. “Can’t even afford therapy after this, Gyps. Don’t start on the power company too.”

Harper, still pale from earlier, whispered sharply, “Shut up, both of you.”

QueenGypsy leaned close to the camera, whispering dramatically: “Notice how Harper always gets meaner the closer we get to hell.”

“Notice how you dragged us here,” Harper hissed.

“Touché.”

The Corridor of Faces

As their eyes adjusted, faint outlines emerged in the darkness.

A narrow corridor stretched endlessly ahead, the peeling wallpaper damp and sagging. Small shapes were etched into the plaster — handprints, dozens of them, too small to belong to adults.

Liam shined his flashlight along the walls. “Why are the handprints sticky?”

Harper didn’t answer.

QueenGypsy muttered under her breath, “Please don’t be blood, please don’t be blood—”

Liam wiped his finger on the wall and sniffed it.

“Liam. If you taste it, I’m leaving you here.”

He paused mid-sniff. “…Fair.”

Suddenly, the EVP recorder clicked violently in Gypsy’s pocket.

“…left… behind…”

The voice was childlike but ragged, broken like radio static.

Gypsy whispered to the camera: “Royal Nation fam… if any of y’all hear that, clip it, because my therapist isn’t gonna believe me without receipts.”

Before Harper could snap at her, the corridor shifted.

The wallpaper bubbled outward like something was pushing from the inside.

Then… faces began to form in the plaster.

Dozens of child-sized faces, their mouths open in silent screams, their hollow sockets weeping streaks of dark moisture down the walls.

Liam whispered shakily, “Nope. Nope nope nope. This is where Netflix cuts to commercial.”

Harper’s breathing grew ragged, her pupils dilating again.

“Gypsy…” she rasped, voice breaking. “They’re talking to me.”

Harper’s Second Possession

Gypsy grabbed Harper’s shoulders. “Focus on me. You’re okay, Harp.”

Harper blinked rapidly, whispering faster and faster, as though reciting a nursery rhyme:

“Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posies, ashes, ashes—”

Liam cut her off, panicking: “Absolutely NOT. We’re NOT doing plague-era ghost karaoke right now.”

But Harper didn’t stop. Her voice deepened, layered with multiple tones, until it sounded like forty-six children speaking at once.

“Play with us, Gypsy… we’ve been waiting.”

Gypsy’s grip tightened. “Harper, come back to me. You are NOT their playground.”

Harper’s head snapped sideways with a sickening crack — unnatural, sharp — and she threw herself against the wall, clawing at one of the trapped plaster faces.

Liam lunged, pinning her arms while Gypsy dug frantically into her backpack. She pulled out a small EMF reader and slammed it against Harper’s chest.

The device shrieked violently — red lights spiking, static screaming — and Harper collapsed in Liam’s arms, gasping like she’d surfaced from deep water.

“What… the hell… happened?” Harper wheezed.

Gypsy knelt, brushing sweat from her forehead. “Babe, you just gave me thirty years’ worth of therapy bills in thirty seconds.”

TikTok Goes Wrong

Suddenly, Liam’s phone buzzed violently.

The TikTok live had crashed — but it immediately reopened on its own.

Only this time, there was no viewer chat. Just a single livestream window showing their exact corridor from a different angle.

Gypsy frowned. “That’s… not our camera.”

Then the comments started populating again — but the usernames weren’t familiar Royal Nation fans.

They were… the missing children’s names.

@ElizaHollow_1874: “Don’t leave us”
@TimmyGone88: “Come play hide & seek”
@MarigoldDrowns: “Gypsy come home”

Gypsy’s blood ran cold.

“Royal Nation fam, if ANY of you are pranking us, I swear to god—”

The livestream replied automatically, text overlaying the screen:

“We’re not your fam.”

The First Shadow

Liam froze, staring down the corridor. “Gypsy… don’t turn around.”

She turned around.

At the far end of the hallway, a small silhouette stood perfectly still — a little girl in a torn dress, her head bowed, wet hair dripping.

Gypsy whispered, “Royal Nation fam… we’ve got visual confirmation.”

Liam hissed, “STOP narrating the apocalypse!”

The little girl lifted her head slowly, and her face… wasn’t there.

Just smooth, pale skin where her features should’ve been.

Harper screamed, but the girl didn’t move. Instead, all the trapped faces in the plaster walls opened their mouths at once, releasing a deafening, guttural wail.

The sound shattered Liam’s flashlight bulb instantly.

Darkness swallowed them whole.

The Wall Crawlers

Scratching. Wet, scraping claws. Soft, childlike giggles echoing in the dark.

Gypsy clicked on her backup headlamp, swinging the beam wildly.

That’s when she saw them.

Tiny, pale hands were crawling out of the walls, peeling away strips of damp wallpaper as they reached for her.

Liam cursed loudly. “Nope, I’m done, I resign from Royal Nation, effective immediately.”

Gypsy, still recording, gritted her teeth. “Fam, if we survive this, merch drops Friday.”

Suddenly, one of the small hands latched onto her ankle. She screamed, kicking wildly, ripping free just as the entire section of wall collapsed inward.

Beyond it was a crawl space, narrow and pitch black, with whispers seeping from inside.

Harper, still trembling, pointed weakly. “That’s… where they want us to go.”

Gypsy glanced at Liam. “You first.”

“Hell no.”

“Fine. Rock, paper, scissors.”

“ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”

“Absolutely.”

The Doorway That Wasn’t

Before they could argue further, the wall behind them sealed itself shut. The corridor was gone, replaced by rotting brick.

The crawl space was the only way forward.

Gypsy sighed deeply, turning the camera toward her face. “Royal Nation fam, we’re going into the actual stomach of hell. Smash that like button, because this may be our series finale.”

Liam muttered, “This isn’t funny.”

Gypsy raised an eyebrow. “Exactly. That’s why I have to make it funny.”

Harper groaned. “Just… go.”

Gypsy ducked into the crawl space first, camera shaking as she squeezed through. Liam followed reluctantly, muttering about “ghost lawyers” and “workplace hazards,” while Harper brought up the rear, still pale and silent.

As they crawled, the whispering grew louder.

“…Gypsy… Gypsy… Gypsy…”

Finally, the passage widened into a small stone chamber lit by a single flickering bulb.

In the center stood a rusted iron crib, and inside it…

A doll identical to the one from the playroom.

Only this one had Harper’s face.

Chapter 5 – “Breaking Points”

The crawlspace ended abruptly in a small, circular chamber. The walls were damp, blackened with mold, and scratched with hundreds of child-sized handprints.

QueenGypsy’s flashlight flickered, throwing shadows that danced like they were alive.

“Royal Nation fam,” she whispered, aiming the camera toward her face, “if you’re watching, this is officially the most horrifying TikTok we’ve ever done. And yes, I know, that’s saying something.”

Harper sagged against the wall, trembling. Her eyes darted everywhere. “I… I can’t… Gypsy, I can’t do this anymore.”

Liam groaned. “Harper, we’re already in the stomach of the orphanage. Now’s not the time to break character for the livestream.”

Harper shot him a glare sharp enough to cut steel. “I’m not acting. I. Can’t. Every time we turn a corner, it’s them — the walls, the voices, me! I’m done!”

Gypsy stepped closer, gripping her shoulder. “Harp… I get it. But if we stop now, we’re screwed. We have to—”

Her words were interrupted by a blood-curdling scream from somewhere beneath the stone floor.

Liam cursed under his breath. “Oh, fantastic. That sounded like inside the walls.”

Harper jumped at the sound. “I’m telling you, Gypsy — I am not going down another hallway if it’s going to possess me again. I’m done with ghosts!”

QueenGypsy forced a grin, her voice twitching with tension. “Well… good news, fam: apparently, ghosts love stubborn people. So you’re officially the star attraction.”

The Possession Escalates

Suddenly, Harper convulsed violently, her eyes rolling back just slightly, pupils flashing black at the edges. Her voice became layered again, high and low at once:

“You can’t leave. You’ll join us forever.”

QueenGypsy lunged for her, trying to grab her arm. “Harp! Snap out of it!”

Harper lurched backward, pushing Gypsy against the wall. Liam grabbed her other arm, struggling to hold her still.

“I’m not… me…” Harper whispered through the collective voice. “Let… go…”

Gypsy clenched her jaw. “Royal Nation fam, yes, Harper just tried to throw me into a moldy wall. No, that’s not part of the livestream. Yes, it’s terrifying.”

Harper collapsed, gasping, back in her body. Her knees shook. “I… I can’t do this anymore. You all… leave me…”

Gypsy swallowed hard. “Harp… we don’t get to leave. Not yet. Not until we figure out what the hell this place wants.”

The Walls Move

The chamber trembled. Scratches on the walls crawled like worms, rearranging themselves. Faint giggles echoed from behind the walls.

A single doll rolled out from a shadow. Its eyes… glimmered red.

Gypsy picked it up, holding it to the camera. “Royal Nation fam, this is either cursed, haunted, or extremely clingy. Your call.”

The doll’s mouth twitched unnaturally. “She comes… she stays…”

Harper screamed, stumbling backward. “NOPE! I’m done!”

Liam groaned. “No one said this was optional.”

Suddenly, the chamber shook violently. Dust fell from the ceiling. Cracks spread across the walls like spiderwebs. The air grew heavier, almost suffocating.

The Ritual Chamber

Beyond the far corner, a stone archway appeared — previously unseen.

Gypsy approached cautiously. Her flashlight illuminated the interior:

• Candles burned themselves, flickering blue flames.
  
• Blood-stained symbols covered the floor, etched in intricate spirals.
  
• In the center, a rusted iron chair sat beneath a hook dangling from the ceiling.
  

“This,” Gypsy whispered, “is the heart of it. Whatever’s animating this orphanage, this is it.”

Harper shook her head violently. “I am not going in there. If you make me go in there, I will—”

“Harper,” Gypsy said calmly, voice low, “if we don’t… we’ll be trapped here forever.”

Harper’s face twisted in horror. “So… die trying or… get eaten alive? Excellent options.”

Liam muttered, “Can we negotiate?”

Gypsy shook her head, scanning the chamber. “Nope. Just luck, reflexes, and occasional bad jokes. Let’s go.”

The First Trap

As they stepped closer to the chair, the floor beneath them groaned. Harper froze. “Do not—”

The floorboards beneath Liam cracked with a sickening snap. Dust and splinters flew. He stumbled forward, hitting the wall.

From the shadows, dozens of small, pale hands erupted, trying to grab them.

Gypsy swung the camera wildly, catching the hands on video. “Royal Nation fam, yes, these are actual children trying to eat us. Please like and subscribe. No refunds on therapy bills.”

Harper screamed again, stumbling backward, nearly tripping. She muttered, “I… I quit…”

The hands pulled back suddenly. The chamber fell silent, as though the orphanage had paused, watching.

The Doll Speaks Again

Gypsy raised the cursed doll from the floor. Its cracked lips parted.

“She comes… she stays…”

Harper shrieked. “I am not staying!”

Gypsy gritted her teeth. “Yeah, that’s the part we don’t get to negotiate.”

The doll laughed — a high, tinkling sound that echoed through the chamber.

“…join us… forever…”

Suddenly, the livestream froze. The screen shimmered, showing dozens of small faces pressed against it, staring directly into the camera — some laughing, some screaming, all wrong.

The chat flooded with warnings and incomprehensible emojis, but the comments were all the missing children’s usernames:

@EthanGone123: “She’s ours.”
@LilyLost87: “You can’t leave now.”

Harper trembled violently. “Gypsy… I… I can’t—”

Gypsy’s voice hardened. “Harp… I’ve got you. But if we want to survive… we have to step forward.”

The camera swung toward the iron chair, the centerpiece of the chamber’s ritual.

From above, the dangling hook swayed… as though anticipating their arrival.

“Royal Nation fam… wish us luck,” Gypsy whispered.

And as they approached the chair…

The walls breathed.

The floor shifted like liquid stone.

The chamber itself seemed to lean toward them, and the whispers grew deafening:

“…stay… stay… stay…”

Harper screamed, breaking free for the first time in hours. “I’m DONE! I quit this stupid ghost show!”

Gypsy grabbed her wrist, dragging her forward. “Not yet, Harp! Not yet…”

And then the chamber went completely silent.

The doll sat in the chair.

The hook swung.

The floor cracked beneath them.

Chapter 6 – “Haunting with a Side of Sarcasm”

The chamber’s breathing floor had stopped. The iron chair and the dangling hook were just… there. Silent. Menacing. Waiting.

QueenGypsy leaned against a wall, panting, flashlight wobbling in her hand. “Royal Nation fam… we’re still alive. Somehow. Somehow I’m alive. Not sure about Harper, but she’s technically alive, so… counts as a win?”

Harper, still trembling, muttered, “I count surviving this as a win. Everything else can choke.”

Liam groaned, sitting on a splintered section of floor. “Can I just say, this is probably the worst field trip in TikTok history?”

“Worst field trip ever, period,” Harper agreed. “I mean, at least in school I got to eat bad cafeteria pizza instead of having possessed toddlers try to murder me.”

Gypsy laughed shakily, trying to regain her usual composure. “Hey, technically the ghosts are the cafeteria — serving up eternal horror with a side of death.”

The trio paused, catching their breath. For the first time in hours, the oppressive weight of the orphanage’s presence felt… slightly less suffocating.

Ghostly Pranks

Gypsy poked at the doll on the iron chair. Its eyes glimmered faintly. “Royal Nation fam, this doll’s basically the ultimate TikTok troll. Look at it — tiny, creepy, and silently judging you. I feel personally attacked.”

Harper groaned. “I feel personally dead.”

Suddenly, the doll tilted forward — a very subtle, very slow nod — as though agreeing with Harper.

Liam raised an eyebrow. “Even the doll’s on your side. That’s sad.”

Harper shot him a look. “I am not laughing.”

Gypsy aimed the camera at Liam. “Liam, tell me that doesn’t look like the orphanage just voted you Most Likely to Be Possessed.”

He shuddered. “Can I get an award for least likely to survive this TikTok livestream instead?”

Snack Break (Sort Of)

Gypsy rummaged through her backpack, producing a slightly squished granola bar. “Royal Nation fam, consider this our morale boost. Nothing says ‘haunted orphanage’ like half-crushed granola.”

Harper stared at it. “Do I… eat this?”

“Only if you want the ghost of diabetes past to haunt you too,” Gypsy quipped, tossing it toward her. Harper caught it reluctantly, muttering, “Better than getting eaten by ghosts, I guess.”

Liam peeled off a protein bar. “If I die, can someone post the clip on TikTok? I want at least 10,000 likes posthumously.”

Gypsy laughed. “Only if you give me credit as co-star of your death.”

Psychological Games

While they snacked, the whispering started again — soft, teasing, faintly mocking.

“…Hungry?”
“…Share your snack…”
“…Don’t forget the girl in the corner…”

Harper choked on her granola. “The ORPHANAGE is mocking us now?”

Gypsy smirked. “Royal Nation fam, when life gives you haunted orphanages, make sarcastic lemonade.”

The shadows on the walls flickered. Small handprints appeared, tracing patterns around them — almost like… doodles. One formed a stick-figure of Liam holding a granola bar.

Harper burst out laughing, despite herself. “Even the ghosts are making fun of him!”

Liam groaned, rubbing his temples. “This is my life now. Mocked by children… who aren’t even alive.”

Gypsy aimed the camera. “Hey, viewers — guess what? Ghosts do humor now. I mean, they’ve been dead for decades, why not get creative?”

The live chat exploded with laughing emojis interspersed with terrified ones.

“ghosts r trolling hard 😂👻”
“harper’s death face is iconic lol”
“emily would die for this content”

Strategy Meeting

After a moment, Gypsy took a deep breath. “Okay. Laughing is good. Makes us slightly less dead inside. But we need a plan. We can’t wander blindly.”

Liam rubbed his forehead. “Plan? I thought the plan was ‘don’t die.’ That’s the best we’ve got so far.”

Harper muttered, “Plan, shm-lan. I just want a nap.”

Gypsy rolled her eyes. “Royal Nation fam, if we survive this, I’ll post a tutorial on ‘Haunted Orphanage Survival for Dummies.’ Step one: snacks. Step two: sarcasm. Step three: don’t get possessed. Step four: ??? Step five: profit.”

Liam snorted. “Yeah, step five is definitely profit in body bags.”

Harper groaned. “You’re both ridiculous. I hate all of you.”

Gypsy grinned at the camera. “That’s the part you love. Admit it.”

Clues in the Humor

While joking, Gypsy noticed something subtle. A series of symbols etched faintly into the walls around the chamber — tiny scratches that formed spirals and circles, almost like a game board.

“Royal Nation fam… apparently, the orphanage wants to play a game,” she muttered, pointing out the symbols.

Harper raised an eyebrow. “Oh, fantastic. Haunted board game. My favorite.”

Liam groaned. “Do I get dice or is it all death traps?”

Gypsy crouched closer, inspecting the spirals. “No dice. But maybe… if we follow the sequence, we can figure out what they want. Or at least survive it.”

Harper muttered, “Or die laughing.”

The Joke’s On Them

As they studied the wall, the doll on the chair moved again — but this time, it rolled forward and landed in front of Harper.

Harper shrieked, kicking it away. It rolled to Liam. He stared at it. “Hey, it’s got your face written all over it. Creepy… kinda cute, though.”

Gypsy laughed. “See, Royal Nation? Humor in horror. Even possessed dolls have personality now.”

The doll slowly turned its head toward the wall symbols. A small giggle escaped from it. Harper rolled her eyes. “I swear, if it laughs louder than me, I quit TikTok forever.”

The Cliffhanger

Just as they prepared to move deeper, the floor trembled again. The walls shifted slightly — not violently, but enough to make them step back.

Whispers echoed around the chamber:

“…you’re ready…”
“…play…”
“…stay…”

Harper groaned. “Oh no. I’m not ready. I’m not playing!”

Gypsy crouched, whispering to the camera: “Royal Nation fam… the orphanage has officially joined the livestream. And judging by the sounds of it, it’s plotting. But hey, we’ve got snacks, sarcasm, and survival instincts. Mostly sarcasm, though.”

The room fell silent.

Then, a tiny hand emerged from the iron chair and reached toward Gypsy.

“…your turn…”

And the camera went dark.

Chapter 7 – “Rituals and Rancor”

The crawlspace spat them into a vast chamber. Stone walls arched high, disappearing into shadows that seemed to stretch forever. Candles burned along the perimeter, blue flames licking the ceiling. The air smelled of damp earth and something far fouler, something… metallic.

QueenGypsy’s flashlight shook in her hand. “Royal Nation fam… welcome to the orphanage’s living room of nightmares. Please, ignore the blood stains. Very aesthetic choice.”

Harper shivered, clutching her hoodie. “I swear, if one more ghost tries to actually kill me, I’m texting my mom to haunt this place for me.”

Liam muttered, “And I’m submitting a formal complaint to TikTok: Haunted Orphanage, Level Apocalyptic. Refund requested.”

Gypsy aimed the camera at the center of the room. A rusted iron chair sat beneath a dangling hook. Around it, the floor was carved into concentric spirals, each etched with names — dozens of them, small handwriting like children trying to make sense of death.

The Orphanage Reveals Its Nature

The whispers returned, overlapping, layered, omnipresent:

“…play…”
“…stay…”
“…take her…”

Gypsy swallowed, whispering into the camera. “Royal Nation fam, I don’t even want to translate this. Just… take notes for when your orphanage visits become sentient.”

The floor trembled. From the shadows, small pale figures emerged, dozens of them, eyes hollow, mouths twisted in permanent half-smiles.

Harper froze. “I… I can’t do this.”

One of the children stepped closer. Its limbs bent wrong, elbows turning backward as it scuttled like an insect. It hissed.

“She’s ours…”

Liam yelled, “You know what, I don’t care who she is! That’s a child—sort of!—and we are leaving!”

Gypsy grabbed his shoulder. “Calm down! This isn’t a Disney movie. We don’t get to leave until the orphanage lets us. Survival rule #47: sarcastic commentary will not protect you, but it’s essential for morale.”

Harper groaned. “Morale? My morale left me when the floor tried to eat me.”

Harper’s Breaking Point

The children advanced. Whispering layered atop whispering. Their tiny hands reached, clawing at the air.

Harper’s voice broke as she shouted: “I’M DONE!”

Before anyone could react, she lunged toward the nearest figure, swinging a broken plank she’d found in the crawlspace. It cracked against the child’s ethereal body — and instead of phasing through, the spirit shrieked and wavered, recoiling like it had felt actual pain.

Gypsy blinked. “Uh… Harper, I think you just… hit a ghost?”

Harper’s breathing was ragged. “I don’t care. You all can deal with the TikTok viral moment. I’m DONE being the haunted doll’s punching bag!”

Liam muttered, “And I thought my life peaked in awkward Zoom calls.”

The children hissed and shrank back for a moment — enough for Gypsy to grab Harper by the wrist.

“Royal Nation fam, apparently ghosts respect assertiveness… and/or violent outbursts.”

The Ritual Chamber Activates

The concentric spiral on the floor began glowing faintly. A low, droning hum filled the chamber, vibrating through their bones. The candles’ blue flames flared wildly, flickering in a rhythm that almost… pulsed.

Gypsy took a step back, muttering under her breath, “If this is a ritual, it’s very badly lit. Really harsh on the eyes.”

Liam groaned. “Gypsy, now is not the time for humor!”

Gypsy smirked, raising her flashlight. “Liam, humor is the only thing keeping me alive. Remember that when you get possessed by a ghost child in 4K livestream resolution.”

The shadows around the spirals deepened, stretching, twisting, merging into something enormous. The whispers crescendoed into an agonized choir of children.

“…join us… forever…”

Harper stumbled backward. “I… I can’t—”

One of the figures lunged. Harper raised the plank again, slamming it into the approaching ghost. The plank passed through it halfway, then shattered into splinters.

Harper screamed, realizing the ghost wasn’t fully phased — it was feeding on her fear, growing stronger each time she panicked.

Gypsy grabbed her by the shoulders. “Harp! Listen to me: the more scared you get, the stronger it gets. We need calm. Humor. Sarcasm. Do you have sarcasm left?”

Harper blinked. “…Barely.”

“Good. Then use it like a weapon,” Gypsy whispered.

Comedic Survival

Gypsy’s flashlight flickered on one of the walls. There, a handprint seemed to be waving at her, a tiny, skeletal little wave.

QueenGypsy aimed the camera. “Royal Nation fam… even the ghosts are waving. Maybe they just want a high-five before killing us.”

Liam groaned. “Perfect. I’m about to die and I’m still getting teased.”

Harper managed a shaky laugh. “If I survive, I’m never doing haunted TikToks again.”

Gypsy smirked. “Too late. This one’s already viral.”

The spirits hissed, reacting to their sarcasm — recoiling slightly, as though the humor was annoying them, which gave the trio precious seconds.

The Heart of the Orphanage

The largest shadow began to rise from the spirals on the floor — tall, sinewy, human-like but impossibly elongated. Its head bent at an unnatural angle, and a faint, permanent grin stretched from cheek to cheek.

“…Gypsy… come closer…”

Gypsy whispered to the camera. “Royal Nation fam… meet the orphanage’s CEO of nightmares. Apparently, it’s been running this place since the first brick was laid. And yes, it has terrible dental hygiene.”

Harper groaned. “I hate this so much. I hate this so much.”

Liam muttered, “Gypsy, it’s smiling… at you.”

Gypsy squared her shoulders. “Well, it’s about to see sarcasm at maximum output.”

“You… cannot…” the shadow hissed.

Gypsy pointed at it. “Oh, look! I can’t? Watch me. I definitely can’t. But check this out anyway, big scary shadow—your posture is terrible.”

The shadow recoiled, wavered. Harper blinked. “I… think sarcasm actually works?”

Gypsy winked at the camera. “Royal Nation fam… NEVER underestimate the power of roasting your supernatural overlords.”

The spiral on the floor flared, the candles flickered violently, and the massive shadow shrieked, splitting into dozens of smaller shadows, all twisting toward them.

Harper gripped Gypsy’s arm. “I don’t have sarcasm left!”

Gypsy grinned. “Good. Then let’s improvise.”

The walls began to close in. The shadows surged.

“…forever…”

The livestream screen froze, leaving only Gypsy’s face in the center, grinning maniacally as chaos swirled around her.

“Royal Nation fam… if we die, make sure the highlight reel is spooky and funny.”

And then the shadows lunged.

Chapter 8 – “The Heart of the Orphanage”

The chamber stretched infinitely, though the walls remained just close enough to brush against. Shadows shifted across the floor like living smoke, crawling toward them in undulating waves. The spirals in the ritual chamber glowed red, pulsing like a heartbeat.

QueenGypsy gripped the camera. “Royal Nation fam… if you think we’re surviving this without sarcasm, congratulations, you’re dead wrong. We are about to humor our way out of hell.”

Harper shivered, clutching a splintered plank like a sword. “I… I don’t have sarcasm left, Gypsy. I have screaming left.”

Liam groaned. “Great. So our survival plan is: Gypsy jokes, Harper screams, and I… sit here and die quietly?”

Gypsy smirked. “Exactly. Perfect execution.”

The Monstrous Heart

From the center of the spirals rose a shape — a towering humanoid figure composed entirely of children’s hands, pale and dripping, faces appearing and disappearing across its body like nightmares flickering in and out of focus. Its head was a gaping void, and every time it moved, dozens of disembodied whispers poured out:

“…join us… forever… play…”

Harper stumbled backward. “I… I quit. I QUIT!”

Gypsy caught her arm. “Harp, you can’t quit the orphanage! That’s literally step one of surviving a haunted TikTok livestream: never quit.”

The figure’s hands writhed, reaching toward them. The whispers escalated into a deafening cacophony, vibrating the floor.

“…Gypsy… Harper… Liam…”

Liam muttered under his breath, “They know our names. Fantastic. Super personal.”

Gypsy aimed the camera. “Royal Nation fam… this is either a haunted orphanage or the world’s worst cosplay group. Either way, stay tuned.”

Harper’s Breaking Point

The monster’s attention fell on Harper. Its hands stretched impossibly, grasping at her, brushing against her clothes, her hair, her skin.

Harper screamed. “I am DONE! I’m DONE with all of you ghosts, I’m DONE with this orphanage, I’m DONE with TikTok!”

For a moment, the entity hesitated — as if respecting her outburst.

Then Harper’s eyes flickered black, but she didn’t collapse. Instead, she raised her plank, swinging with all her strength at the reaching hands. Each swing sent the spectral limbs recoiling, faint screams echoing with every impact.

Gypsy blinked. “…Harp… you’re… actually fighting it?”

Harper gritted her teeth. “I said I’m done. I’m not dead yet, and I refuse to be a toy.”

Liam gawked. “She… she’s actually doing it.”

The figure recoiled slightly, but then roared — a bone-chilling sound that made the walls tremble and the candles flare.

Humor as a Weapon

QueenGypsy stepped forward, camera held steady. “Royal Nation fam… apparently, sarcasm is the new exorcism. Let’s test it.”

She waved at the monster. “Hey! You! Yeah, you — all pale, creepy, and surprisingly body-shapeless. Did you get dressed in the dark? Because your posture is terrible.”

The entity froze for a fraction of a second. Its whispering turned uncertain, faltering.

Harper swung again. Liam jumped to help, kicking at the approaching shadow-hands, all while Gypsy continued roasting it:

“Really, for a centuries-old evil, your sense of style is tragic. And your aim? Horrendous. Honestly, a little mortal coaching could do wonders.”

The monster hissed, recoiling further. Its hands flailed wildly, but the trio had momentary control, enough to catch their breath.

The Ritual’s Secret

The spirals on the floor pulsed violently, revealing symbols that resembled children’s drawings intertwined with arcane sigils. Gypsy studied them closely.

“Royal Nation fam… apparently this is the summoning pattern. Whoever completes the center ritual… becomes the new heart of the orphanage.”

Harper’s face went pale. “Wait… so if we don’t stop it, it… what… eats people’s souls?”

Gypsy nodded. “Or worse. It keeps growing. Each missing child adds a hand, each terrified survivor adds power. That’s why it’s… so big… and creepy.”

Liam muttered, “And we’re standing inside the biggest, creepiest, handiest thing on the planet. Great.”

Gypsy grabbed the doll from the center of the spiral. Its cracked lips twitched. “Royal Nation fam… we’re going to play along. Humor, sarcasm, and a little bit of trickery. Step one: distract it.”

The Climax Approaches

Harper’s breathing grew heavy, but her resolve hardened. “Fine. I’ll fight. But I swear, if I get possessed again, I’m haunting all of you from the afterlife.”

Gypsy nodded, aiming the camera at the monster. “Royal Nation fam… witness this: sarcasm, courage, and a plank — the ultimate ghost combo.”

The trio moved as one:

Harper swung, pushing back the reaching hands.

Liam kicked and dodged, muttering sarcastic commentary about the entity’s “horrible body mechanics.”

Gypsy roasted, taunted, and dodged, documenting everything while aiming for the ritual’s center.

The entity roared, shaking the chamber violently. The walls trembled. The candle flames bent toward the trio as if trying to suffocate them.

“…forever…”

Harper screamed, swinging with finality. “NOT FOREVER! I REFUSE!”

The monster froze, a shudder running through its form, and the spirals on the floor glowed brighter. Gypsy spotted the center symbol — the key to breaking the ritual.

QueenGypsy’s Clever Move

Gypsy lunged forward, tossing the doll into the center of the spiral. The doll exploded into dust, releasing a shockwave of blue light.

The chamber shook violently, then… silence.

The monster froze. The whispers halted. The candles dimmed.

Harper sank to the floor, exhausted. “Did… we… do it?”

Gypsy wiped sweat from her brow. “Royal Nation fam… we might have just out-sarcastically-our-wayed an ancient evil. Or we made it mad. Either way, I call it a win.”

Liam groaned. “Win? We’re alive. That’s all the win I need.”

The Aftermath

The shadows dissolved, leaving the chamber empty. The spirals on the floor faded. The doll’s dust lingered like a faint perfume.

Harper collapsed into Gypsy’s arms. “I… I’m never doing haunted orphanages again. Ever. I mean it.”

Gypsy smiled wryly. “Royal Nation fam… you said that last time. And we’re still alive, so… consistency is key.”

Liam muttered, “Next livestream… let’s do something safe. Like haunted libraries. Or abandoned grocery stores. Less hands.”

Gypsy laughed. “Sure, Liam. Haunted grocery stores. Noted.”

Harper groaned, “No. Absolutely not.”

The trio exited the chamber cautiously, shadows lingering at the edges of vision, whispering faintly:

“…play again soon…”

Gypsy glanced at the camera. “Royal Nation fam… if we survive this, remember: sarcasm and courage can beat anything. Except maybe bad Wi-Fi in haunted buildings. That’s impossible.”

The walls of the orphanage shivered behind them, but for the moment… they were free.

Chapter 9 – “Escape, Chaos, and TikTok Fame”

The corridor stretched endlessly in front of them, but for the first time in hours, it felt less like a death trap and more like a slightly unpleasant hallway.

QueenGypsy adjusted the camera, whispering, “Royal Nation fam… final chapter vibes. We survived… mostly. And yes, I still look good under stress. Priorities.”

Harper groaned, dragging her plank like it was a tennis racket. “I swear, if one more hand reaches for me, I’m suing ghostchild Incorporated.”

Liam wiped dust off his jacket. “Orphanage level: survived. Ego level: bruised. TikTok likes: hopefully enough to justify therapy costs.”

Gypsy smirked. “And that’s the survival trifecta: life, humor, and internet fame. Let’s move, team.”

The Slapstick Escape Begins

The first few steps were deceptively normal… until the walls trembled and the floorboard beneath Liam gave a loud CRACK.

Liam flailed, hitting a wall, and nearly toppled into Harper, who squealed. “Do not land on me!”

Gypsy stifled a laugh. “Royal Nation fam… we are now playing Haunted Orphanage: Slapstick Edition. Warning: no refunds if limbs are bruised.”

A shadowy hand shot from the floor, attempting to grab Liam. He shrieked, hopping back and smacking his head into a pipe.

“Ow! Seriously! Who installs pipes at face level?!”

Harper muttered, “Ghosts are sadistic and interior decorators.”

Gypsy pointed the camera at Liam. “Royal Nation fam… witness the embodiment of pure panic. That’s a million-dollar TikTok moment right there.”

Harper’s Comeback Moment

As they rounded a corner, Harper noticed a pile of old toys strewn across the floor. One of them — a wind-up robot — started moving toward the monstrous shadows, clanging loudly.

Harper picked it up, grinning. “You know what? If we can’t fight them with planks, maybe we can annoy them to death.”

She wound the robot tight and let it march forward. The shadows recoiled at the clanging noise, screeching and retreating slightly.

Gypsy laughed. “Royal Nation fam… Harper just weaponized nostalgia. This is genius. Also slightly illegal in some states.”

Liam muttered, “All I know is, if a tiny robot is scaring ghosts, I want one for my office.”

The Orphanage’s Last Trick

They reached a staircase leading upward. The walls groaned and shifted, whispering threats.

“…you cannot leave…”

Harper waved the robot in front of the whispers. “You think you can stop me? I have a wind-up army!”

Gypsy aimed the camera. “Royal Nation fam… humor is working. And yes, that’s the first time sarcasm and toys have defeated evil simultaneously.”

The staircase trembled violently, sending a cascade of dust down onto them. Liam shouted, “Okay, new plan: sprint like toddlers on sugar!”

They bolted upward, slipping on debris. Harper screamed as she landed in a puddle of something sticky. “Oh! Fantastic! Haunted orphanage slime, my favorite!”

Gypsy laughed, helping her up. “Royal Nation fam… always pack a mop. Survival tip #112.”

The Final Confrontation

At the top of the staircase, a massive door barred their way — old, wooden, warped with age. Blue flame flickers licked the edges.

Gypsy approached cautiously. “Royal Nation fam… final boss door. Nothing creepy at all.”

Liam muttered, “You love sarcasm, don’t you?”

Gypsy grinned. “It keeps me alive.”

Harper shook her head. “I’d rather scream.”

The shadows surged from below, hands stretching, faces flashing in anger and confusion. Harper raised the plank, Liam grabbed a rusted pipe, and Gypsy readied the camera… ready to document the chaos in full TikTok glory.

The door creaked. A hand — pale, spectral, and enormous — shot through the keyhole, clawing at them.

Harper yelled, swinging her plank. It struck the hand with a loud CRACK, and the spectral force recoiled.

Gypsy pointed the camera at the door. “Royal Nation fam… witness the ultimate combo: courage, sarcasm, and brute force! Also, wind-up robots help, apparently.”

The shadows hissed and retreated, slithering back down the stairs, leaving only a faint echo of whispering:

“…we’ll play again soon…”

Escape and Celebration

The door finally gave way, swinging outward into the night. Cool air hit their faces. Moonlight poured into the hallway.

Harper sank to the ground, laughing weakly. “We… survived. I… we actually survived!”

Liam collapsed beside her. “Survived? Check. Brains mostly intact? Check. TikTok content? Absolutely horrifyingly amazing.”

Gypsy held the camera high. “Royal Nation fam… we lived. We laughed. We survived the haunted orphanage, defeated shadow monsters with sarcasm, planks, and toys… and yes, we still look fabulous.”

Harper groaned. “I can’t believe we’re alive. I’m never touching ghosts again. Seriously.”

Gypsy smirked. “Famous last words, Harper. Famous last words.”

Back outside, they stumbled onto the overgrown lawn. The orphanage loomed behind them, silent but still ominous.

Harper kicked a rock. “So… who cleans up the slime?”

Liam groaned. “I’m filing a TikTok claim for ghost PTSD.”

Gypsy laughed. “Royal Nation fam… note: haunted orphanages are messy. Also, morale is everything. Humor and teamwork save lives. And wind-up robots.”

Suddenly, Harper spotted something gleaming in the grass: a small, intricately carved talisman with mysterious runes.

Gypsy picked it up. “Royal Nation fam… looks like the orphanage left us a little souvenir. Or a warning. Or both. Either way, adventure is never done.”

Liam frowned. “Do we… keep it?”

Harper smirked. “I say we sell it on eBay as haunted jewelry.”

Gypsy laughed. “Royal Nation: making haunted escapes and marketing nightmares. That’s our brand.”

The trio filmed a final clip:

Harper swinging the plank, laughing.

Liam brandishing a stick like a sword, mock-heroic.

Gypsy pointing dramatically at the camera: “Royal Nation fam… remember: sarcasm, courage, and a little insanity can save your life. Mostly sarcasm.”

The clip ended with a pan toward the orphanage. A faint, tiny handprint appeared on the window — then vanished.

Gypsy winked at the camera. “See? They’ll be waiting. But that’s a story… for another day.”

Harper groaned. “I’m never volunteering again.”

Liam muttered, “We all say that… until next time.”

Gypsy smirked. “Exactly. Royal Nation fam… adventure never ends.”

And with that, the haunted orphanage faded into the night, leaving laughter, chaos, and a perfect TikTok clip behind.

Chapter 10 – “Haunted Hilarity and Hidden Secrets”

The night air outside the orphanage was crisp, filled with the faint scent of damp earth and lingering mystery. The building loomed behind them, dark and silent, but with an unsettling energy that made their hair stand on end.

QueenGypsy adjusted the camera for the final TikTok segment. “Royal Nation fam… we survived, we laughed, we screamed, and somehow… we’re all still alive. Mostly intact. Maybe.”

Harper flopped dramatically on the grass. “Mostly? Gypsy, my soul left about three chapters ago. I’m just recycling the body for content now.”

Liam groaned, brushing dust and ghostly slime from his jacket. “I swear, if this goes viral, I want a disclaimer: Royal Nation is not responsible for emotional trauma, ghost-induced nightmares, or sarcastic roasting by spectral children.”

Gypsy smirked. “Perfect. Royal Nation: truth in advertising. Let’s roll out the highlights reel.”

Comic Relief Amid Chaos

Harper kicked at a stray branch. “Seriously, Gypsy, I can’t believe we survived. I mean, we were literally inside a house full of vengeful ghost kids.”

Gypsy nodded. “And we did it with style. And sarcasm. Never forget the sarcasm.”

Liam muttered, “And wind-up robots. Don’t forget them.”

Harper rolled her eyes. “Yeah, apparently toys are ghost repellent now. Great, I’ve peaked in life. This is my legacy.”

Gypsy laughed, aiming the camera at the trio. “Royal Nation fam… step one to surviving haunted orphanages: humor. Step two: bravery. Step three: collect cursed toys and sarcastic commentary. Step four: profit.”

The live chat exploded with laughing emojis, horror reactions, and fan theories about what the orphanage might do next.

A Slightly Creepy Discovery

As they turned to leave, Harper noticed a faint glow in the grass. Curious, she reached down and pulled out a small, intricately carved amulet. Its runes shimmered faintly, pulsing in a rhythm that felt… alive.

Gypsy’s eyes widened. “Royal Nation fam… looks like the orphanage left us a parting gift. Or maybe it’s a warning. Either way, I say: souvenir!”

Liam examined it closely. “Do we… keep it? Or, you know, throw it into a bonfire and hope for the best?”

Harper grinned. “I vote souvenir. Ghost-proof it with sarcasm and TikTok fame.”

Gypsy nodded. “Exactly. Future adventures may hinge on this little trinket. Or it might curse us further. Either way… content.”

Final Ghostly Encounter

Just as they started walking toward the car, a faint giggle echoed from the orphanage’s broken window.

Harper groaned. “Oh no. Oh no. They’re still watching us. I’m done. I am DONE.”

Gypsy laughed softly. “Royal Nation fam… they’ll always watch. But here’s the key: we’re alive, we’re hilarious, and we definitely have content for weeks.”

Liam muttered, “Alive is good. Hilarious is subjective. Content… terrifyingly inevitable.”

The wind whispered through the trees, faintly repeating:

“…play again soon…”

Harper shivered. “I… do not want to play again. Ever. No more games.”

Gypsy winked at the camera. “Royal Nation fam… the games never stop. But next time, maybe fewer possessed toddlers.”

Celebration Chaos

They finally reached the parking lot, leaning on each other and laughing uncontrollably.

Harper kicked a small rock. “We survived! I’m never doing haunted orphanages again!”

Gypsy smirked. “Famous last words, Harper. Famous last words.”

Liam tossed the amulet in the air. “And now we have ghost bling! Should I wear it as a necklace, or make it the star of our next TikTok?”

Gypsy laughed. “Both. Obviously both.”

Harper groaned, “I’m surrounded by insane people and laughing ghosts. Perfect.”

The trio posed for a final TikTok segment:

Harper dramatically swinging her plank, fake-screaming.

Liam pretending to duel invisible ghosts with the amulet.

Gypsy pointing at the camera like a horror-comedy hero.

“Royal Nation fam… adventure complete. Survived the haunted orphanage, defeated shadow monsters, and left with souvenirs. Stay spooky… and sarcastic.”

As they drove away, the orphanage shrank behind them, dark and quiet. The amulet pulsed softly in Gypsy’s bag.

Harper peered at it. “Do we… keep it? Or… is this a ‘we just survived trauma, let’s leave it’ moment?”

Gypsy smirked. “Royal Nation fam… some mysteries are too fun to ignore. This little trinket? It’s a hint. Another haunted place, another adventure… maybe with fewer children trying to kill us. Maybe.”

Liam groaned. “Or more. Definitely more. Knowing our luck.”

Harper muttered, “I quit… for now.”

Gypsy winked. “Royal Nation fam… adventure never ends. You survive, you laugh, you document… and you discover there’s always more lurking. Until next time, stay spooky… and sarcastic.”

The car drove off into the moonlight, leaving the orphanage behind, but the faint whisper of laughter and tiny hands clinging to windows reminded them: the paranormal world is never truly done.

Gypsy raised the camera one last time. “Royal Nation fam… haunted orphanage: survived. Hilarity: maximum. Chaos: inevitable. Ghosts: still judging. TikTok fame: absolutely terrifying. And remember… always pack sarcasm and a wind-up toy. You’ll thank me later.”

Harper muttered, “I… sort of do.”

Liam sighed. “Somehow, I survived all that, and my phone battery’s at 5%. Perfect timing for horror and panic.”

Gypsy winked at the camera. “Royal Nation fam… until the next haunted adventure, keep your wits sharp, your jokes sharper, and your ghost-fighting plank within reach.”

The screen faded to black, leaving only the faint echo of laughter and whispers:

“…we’ll play again soon…”

This ends Queen Gypsy’s Adventure ( or does it ?!?  … Stay Tuned…)