Once, upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered—weak and weary—over many a quaint and curious sound within my chamber door, there came a scratching, faint yet sinister. ’Twas no whisper of the wind, no phantom’s sigh, but the creeping herald of an unseen infestation! Shadows seemed to crawl along the walls, as if alive; the candle flickered not from draft but from dread. Each creak, each whisper, each tiny scritch of movement gnawed upon the edges of my sanity—until I knew, with horror most profound, that I was not alone.
The darkness seemed to breathe. Beneath the floorboards, a restless stirring echoed—a soft chorus of life where no life should be. I pressed my ear to the wooden planks and felt it—the pulsing of a hidden colony, thriving in secret chambers below. A thousand legs moved as one, a living heartbeat beneath my own. I fled to the window, yet even there, the shadows shifted, and the glint of countless eyes returned my gaze. Truly, the greatest horrors are not born of ghosts or graveyards, but of what lurks beneath our very feet.
Now, dear reader, be warned—such terrors need not plague your home. Whether it be the rat’s sly tread beneath the floorboards, the spider’s silken snare in your cellar, or the cockroach’s midnight feast upon forgotten crumbs, these are villains not of the supernatural, but of neglect!
Summon not spirits, but The Bugyman Exterminators, whose tools banish infestations swiftly and precisely. Let your house be a sanctuary once more, where the only tapping at your chamber door… is trick-or-treaters crying “Nevermore!”
Mwahahaha!