Beverly had had a sneaking suspicion she got the wrong address for the costume party as she approached the ominous, dilapidated old house. And despite her better judgement, the costume of an immodestly-clad succubus wasn't exactly suited for the late October night air. Of course, she wasn't shy about stepping into places she wasn't exactly supposed to be, and considering the possibility the host had simply gone for an exceptionally authentic choice of venue, she decided a quick look inside couldn't hurt at least.





Nothing but the moonlight filtering through the boarded-up windows and occasional holes in the ceiling illuminated the rooms, casting vague shadows which almost seemed alive to the young woman as she crept about, driven by her troublesome curiosity. She was surprised to find so much decor still left about the room. Much of the furniture dusty, but in relatively decent shape... but perhaps more surprising was the notable number of haphazardly-placed statues, all in various states of disrepair.





One in particular seemed to be of a woman about her age, the tattered cloth that was part of the intricately-sculpted form hanging motionlessly about a remarkably-detailed bust. In fact, it was about all that covered the shapely, stony form in an odd manner of partially artistic nudity. One that just felt... off, for lack of a better word. In fact, the more closely Beverly looked at it, the more of an unsettling chill crept along her spine, an uncanny sense of livliness to the bewildered expression chiseled into the statue's stony visage, which held the fake demoness' attention...





"Augh, wh-what??"





She recoiled sharply as something suddenly fell upon her arm, causing a shudder to roll across her skin as she looked upon whatever it was in disgust, just as she felt something else gently encircle her waist. It was a small snake, two of them in fact. Each of them intently eyeing her as they deftly wound around her figure.





But much as she wished to fling them away, the costumed party-goer suddenly found she could hardly move. The sharp exclamation even falling short on her parted lips, as she amazedly watched a spread of grey washing over her flesh and clothes from where the serpents touched, down along her arm and across her stomach and thighs...





There was an ominous sensation of no longer feeling the crisp autumn evening air on her bare skin... a total absense of sensation altogether, in fact. Beyond the creeping urgency within what of her that remained tender and warm, steadily diminishing as more and more of her turned cold and grey... Though even that was replaced by a chill of a different kind, as Beverly gradually came to a realization of what was unbelievably happening to her, far too late.





The statue in front of her had once been a woman of flesh and blood like she was. All of the statues had been, in fact. And like them all, Beverly was now a part of a different kind of haunted party. One she'd not be leaving anytime soon.





//Like what you see? Support us for more on going art content, bonus art, and uncensored versions:





Beverly and the Haunted HouseBy StickyScribbles/RuggedMars