There is an atmosphere about this place, heavy and brooding. A large part of that is the depth of the shadows, but it's a brilliant effect.
Sometimes, what separates a great haunt from a mediocre one comes down to a few little details. Here, it's the mostly monochromatic nature of it, but also, the small moments, like the odd lightning that seems to shift across the sky, or the sparking of stripped wires on the docks.
The broken ship in the bay never sinks, just stays, visible and accusing. Did the islanders break it apart, or did the rocks? Does anyone remember at this point?
There are spirits in the woods, and shades of death. They don't attack, but they are attracted to movement. And sometimes they move through visitors, chilling them further.
The manor house keeps a Sphynx cat, who seems more than feline-intelligent.
And inside the manor house, the cobwebs are deep, shrouding the piano that never plays.
(More in part two.)
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