The more I think about it, the more possible it becomes.

I can see me, with a torchlight, or maybe with none at all, acting all brave and fearless when I know I'm not.
When I feed off other peoples facination and fear, leading the way and persuading-pleadingly and desperately-for them to continue feeding me with strength.

But I can see myself this time, with noone to follow me, asking them to do me a simple favour-please open the flap and let the sunlight fall through-and crawl in a little less scared.
Then something would have happened, and they would have ran, and the flap would shut.

Then I can see me, alone in the darkness and deciding to press on.
And on and on until I see an end.
It was a room, like they said, something like that, as soon as you step into it your torchight flickers out.

I'll let my imagination get better of me and huddle in a corner, waiting for ghosts with eyelashes and big smiles to come get me.
Then I'll get real hungry and decide to move forward and not turning back, like I should.

Then I see daylight, in the crack under the door like the time in the rifle room, and I'll feel better and try to get out.
Of course it won't be locked because doors should never be locked in the first place.

Then I'll see-
I dunno what I'll see but it'll be good and I'll live there forever.
And part of me will be saying 'I told you so' (me and my big grin)
Then you won't feel so bad.

And both sides will live happily ever after, one on this side, and one on the other.
The End.

The more I think about it, the more possible it becomes.