… Careful what you do
'Cause it is watching your every move
Watch your back when you get there
For if you do, you maybe get away

Even if you're far away and alone
You can be sure that it will find you there

This I know
It draws you closer in dreams
Which you like

It promises you everything
You've got your peace when you're here
But you will
Get lost
Yes, get lost the same I did

But what happens when you are here
Then what should you do
After dying
What should you do ...

A girl was sitting on a rusty swing, singing softly to herself. Her little hands gripped the ropes so tightly that her knuckles were white. She moved her head to the beat of the song, but something was wrong. The movement looked awkward, almost as if it were a doll attached to invisible strings. Suddenly she stopped and got up. She jumped lightly over the withered lawn, her black hair bobbing up and down.
The eerie song accompanied her on her way over stones and lawns and she danced with the leaves that were blown up by a gentle autumn breeze and followed her as long as the breeze allowed it. Then she climbed a small hill. She stumbled and staggered to and fro, pulling small dangling movements as if she were continuing to dance with the leaves that had long since ceased to follow her. But she kept turning and singing, turning and singing, until she came over the hill and stood in front of an old abandoned house whose white paint was peeling from the outside wall.
A faint, dreamy smile crossed her lips as she climbed the half-rotten wooden steps to the terrace and ran to the door. It was like coming home after a long, long time. Full of anticipation, she threw open the door and ran inside. She ran through the hall, followed a staircase upstairs and continued down a hallway until she reached the end of it and finally stood in front of a weathered, old door. A door painted light green with faded butterflies on it. She opened it and listened to the familiar creaking sound that the floor made under her feet as she slowly stepped into the room.
The sun shone dull through the dusty glass, bathing the room in a dim light. She went to the window and looked out, looking over the deserted property that was once so green and full of life. The song was still on her lips, but she sang it now only very softly and slowly. A single tear ran down her cheek. A tear as lonely and deserted as this house. But that didn't bother the girl, because she knew that someone would come soon.
The sun was setting slowly, making the light in the room less and less. Shadows and darkness increased and soon you could hardly see anything, but the girl continued to stand by the window and stared outside. She waited and sang.... But what happens when you are here
Then what should you do
After dying
What should you do ...

Palpitations. He opened his eyes in a panic. The sweat ran down his forehead and his breath came in quick, flat gulps.
What just happened
He couldn't stop the trembling and could clearly feel his throat still tightening. Swallowing was almost impossible, his mouth was just too dry. He staggered to his feet, dragging the small clock that was on his desk with him and startling when the clock hit the floor.
Why was he so scared?
He stared at the clock. It was 2:01 a.m.
He realized that he was all alone in this huge office. A sigh fell over him and he felt relieved.
Got overworked again, he thought, then shrugged.
The fear left him and his heart was slowly beating normal again. Only one thing was wrong.
He could still clearly remember his dream.
It was a dream of the kind where you thought everything was okay, but you always expected a monster to jump out of the next corner to eat you. A dream that occupied you long after it was dreamed and sometimes never let go.
Another sigh.
Why did he even think about such things?
It was 2 o'clock in the morning and he wasted his time thinking about what could take his nerve away on the drive home.
Slowly he turned back to his place of work. The computer monitor flickered eerily against the otherwise prevailing darkness of the office. He could clearly see the icon of an incoming message and frowned.
Who the hell emailed him at 2 a.m., he wondered. But actually he didn't care at all. He wanted to drop the email and just drive home.
"Home and then to bed, I deserve it," he mumbled quietly and was about to shut down the computer again when it suddenly paused. An uneasy feeling crept into him again. Goosebumps spread over his body and his hands became damp with cold sweat.
To swallow.
Something in him was reluctant to ignore the message and made him read it. Although he knew what he would find in it. Knew the monster he'd been waiting for in the dream could still snap shut. But he couldn't defend himself against this urge.
Photos.
The first showed an abandoned house, two stories, white crumbling paint on the outer facade, rotting terrace and dried up lawn. The house from his dream.
In the second photo he could clearly see a family. A man in his fifties who was standing next to a much younger woman, holding a little girl with long black hair and dark, impenetrable eyes.The faces of the two adults were in shadow, so that the girl's eyes only stood out more. He could see a certain longing in them, a longing combined with a call, the call for closeness and security, and he knew that he could give that to the girl.
There was an address under the photo.
New palpitation of the heart.
A new urge overcame him. Hit him so suddenly that he wasn't even aware of where he got these thoughts from.
He wanted to go straight away. He wanted to get the little girl out of this terrible house and protect her. From whom, he didn't care. The main thing was that he could help her.
He quickly grabbed his jacket. Threw it over and ran to the elevators. He just left his computer switched on. Should one of his colleagues take care of it. He had more important things to do. He was chosen. Just him alone.
Grinning, he got into the elevator and his elation evaporated.
What was he trying to tell himself?
Sigh.
He really should go home and lie down, maybe take a day off again and enjoy the summer a bit.
And then, then maybe he would finally get rid of this longing. This longing for the house and the mysterious girl he dreamed of night after night.
The elevator stopped and he got out.
What was he actually imagining?
He would never be able to let go of this dream, especially not now that he knew where he had to go. Because now he knew where to look.

Three days had passed.
Three days when he barely closed an eye without dreaming of the abandoned house and the girl. Three days when he always had the urge to drive to the house. Three days without a break.
Now he couldn't.
He was sitting in his car, hands clenched so tightly to the steering wheel that his knuckles protruded white. The sun was already sinking when he turned into a small driveway.
Pine tree shadows ran across the bright gravel path that led to the house, and he could hear the pebbles crunch under the wheels as he stopped.
It was cool. A light breeze blew through the trees, making them rustle softly and he shivered. He felt a strange sense of anticipation and fear.
What if all his dreams were just dreams and this girl didn't even exist?
Then what would he do?
He shook his head.
He could still think about that later, after all, the only thing that counted now was going to this house to see what had drawn him here.
Slowly, but with slightly springy steps, he walked towards the old house.
His heart pounded as he jumped two steps to the porch and his hands were sweating as he stood in front of the entrance and reached for the doorknob.
He turned it.
Creak.
The door swung open slowly, giving him the opportunity to look inside the abandoned house.The house was old and dilapidated. Hardly a ray of light penetrated the dirty glasses.
Rotten floorboards creaked as he stepped into the empty vestibule.
To his right he could make out an adjoining room and a little in front of him a rotten staircase with a splintered railing ran along the wall that led to the first floor.
To swallow.
Everything looked the same as in his dream.
It couldn't possibly be a coincidence.
He went to the stairs and took two steps with each step to get up faster so that he could be with her faster. At the top he turned left. A dark corridor lay before him. To the right and left he saw a couple of doors and peeling wallpaper that hung in tatters from the wall in the weak light.
He walked slowly on. Hands spread out on both sides so that you can feel your way. Then suddenly he ran into resistance. His body jerked back and he didn't know what was going on.
He put his hands forward and felt.
What he touched was cold and rough, like bricks in a wall.
Swallowing again.
It should actually be by a green wooden door.
He felt on. Hoped that his hands, his sense of touch were just playing a trick on him, but it wasn't. His fingers traced the cold surface of the rock.
There was no door, no room that led to the girl he had dreamed of all along.
Pain.
It felt like something was breaking inside of him, it felt like in that moment when he found out that he was just imagining it all, he was losing his longing. He wanted to save this girl. I wanted to protect her and be with her. But this girl didn't exist. She was never alive. The dreams, the news. It wasn't real.
He started to sob. Tears ran down his cheeks.
Slowly he turned away.
And now he felt it. For the first time since he was here. It was cold.
It was freezing cold. This wasn't a place to find anyone. This was a lonely, deserted place. Only the lost spirits of the deceased would gather here to look for something here.
He bowed his head, slowly calmed down.
What had made him come here?
He didn't know