Eric Ross: Blog

You’d think, after seven chapters of bad omens, erotic frescoes, and a heartbeat that won’t quit, our guests would’ve learned a simple rule of gothic real estate:

If a wall opens by itself, don’t go in.

But they do.
Of course they do.

In Part 8: The Cellar Rite, the gang descends straight into the kind of cellar that doesn’t belong under any earthly floorplan. Velvet couches. Incense. Mirrors that breathe. And murals that seem far too interested in what everyone’s feeling. (You’ll see why that’s a problem.)

Down there, the house isn’t content with creaks or whispers anymore. Now it speaks back. And what it wants aren’t prayers, or apologies, or even screams. They’re something much harder to give.

Jade tries sarcasm. Marcus tries denial. Naomi tries reason. Clara and Dylan… well, they try each other. Let’s just say everyone’s coping in their own way.

The real fun begins when the mirrors start repeating what no one wanted to say out loud. That’s when you realize the house has been listening since the first knock on the door.

Welcome downstairs. You’ll find out what the house wants soon enough.

— Eric

P.S. If you’ve made it this far through The Harrow Testament, I’d love your feedback—and your vote. It keeps the house fed, and lets me know who’s still brave enough to follow.

It's still Halloween inside Harrow House, although perhaps past midnight now.

In Part 7, the house stops playing coy.

Our brave little ensemble finally regroups but the reunion is uneasy. Naomi’s sharp tongue is sharper still. Dylan’s candle burns unnaturally steady against the wind. Clara is flushed and pretending not to be. And Marcus—well, Marcus is trying very hard to walk normally.

The house presses in. Floorboards pulse to the rhythm of their breath. Contact sparks. Frescoed fantasies bleed into reality. Marcus imagines pressing Jade to the wall. Clara remembers Dylan’s fingers and almost falls apart. Dylan’s trying not to think about Clara on her knees. And Naomi—sweet, skeptical Naomi—gets more than a vision. Phantom hands. Phantom mouths. Filled in ways she never thought she wanted… until she did.

Then the frescoes come alive. They don’t move, exactly. They participate. Naomi learns this the hard way, taken apart by two ghostly lovers while everyone else walks unaware.

A staircase opens, pulsing with the house’s heartbeat. They’re all beyond pretending. The descent is inevitable. The house has tasted them now.

So light a candle. Say a prayer.

And go down with them.

— Eric

P.S. If you’re enjoying The Harrow Testament, your votes and feedback are the best way to keep the house fed. Drop a comment, cast a vote, whisper to the walls—whatever suits you.

P.P.S. Just arriving? Start at the beginning. You don’t want to wander in halfway through. Trust me.

It’s the day after Halloween. The plastic skeletons are boxed up. The naughty nurse costume is already a memory. You’re left with a half-stale bowl of fun-size Twix—and someone on your block has already inflated a Christmas penguin.

But inside Harrow House?

It’s still Halloween.

Let’s be honest: the house doesn’t need to scare anyone anymore. It just waits. It lets their bodies do the rest.

In Part 6, desire stops skulking in the corners. It stretches. It touches.

Clara finally stops pretending she doesn’t want Dylan. Dylan stops pretending he doesn’t want anything. Jade and Marcus? They’ve dropped the act—and a few other things. And Naomi—sweet, stubborn, sensible Naomi—still thinks she can outsmart the supernatural. She’s got a ghost handprint on her hip and the creeping sense that the frescoes are watching her.

(Spoiler: they are.)

Because Harrow House doesn’t just haunt you. It watches. It listens. And it waits for the moment you stop resisting and whisper, “Yes.”

The frescoes are witnesses. Every room is a confession booth with no exit.

What the house wants isn’t fear. It’s surrender.

And in Part 6? Our guests are starting to give it.

— Eric

P.S. If you’re enjoying The Harrow Testament, your votes and feedback keep the whispers coming. Let me know what’s working. And vote—if the house hasn’t already done it for you.

P.P.S. New here? Start at the beginning with the Prologue. Trust me—you’ll want to read everything.

The house isn’t just whispering now—it’s choosing. And what it wants, it takes.

In Part 5, the group splits again (will they never learn?), and the house wastes no time closing the doors behind them. Literally.

Jade and Marcus are sealed into a room where their tension erupts. Lust turns the dial past flirtation—until even the mirror seems to participate.

Clara and Dylan, in the red-draped hush of a hidden parlor, edge toward something softer but no less charged. Fingers touch. Breath trembles. The house breathes with them. What they don’t say hangs just as heavily as what they almost do.

And Naomi? She’s left alone. Well... not quite alone. She's with the house. It knows her reluctance. It knows how to turn fear into surrender... and then into arousal. And it doesn’t need a partner to make her body respond.

This chapter is called Ascent, but don’t be misled. What rises here isn’t hope. It’s heat. Hunger. And the cost of giving in.

Happy Halloween!

Read Part 5: Ascent

— Eric

The ghosts are getting bolder. The house, hungrier. And our dear explorers? Just slightly more unhinged.

Part 4 begins with a séance—because obviously, if the walls are whispering and the frescoes are pornographic, the most reasonable next step is to break out a Ouija board. Spirits of Lantern Hill, are you around? The answer is yes. And they don’t like being ignored.

Naomi gets touched by something that isn’t there (or isn’t supposed to be), and suddenly she’s not just the skeptic—she’s the bait.

From there, we split again. Clara and Dylan head down a hallway where the wallpaper peels back like skin to reveal fevered erotic frescoes. Their restraint holds—for now—but the silence between them is charged enough to start a fire. He calls it art. She tries to breathe. Both are lying to themselves.

Meanwhile, Marcus and Jade play their usual game: flirtation as weapon, sarcasm as shield, tension rising like smoke off a dying cigarette. But even Jade, queen of deflection, is starting to feel the pressure. The mirrors reflect too much. The house leans in. And Marcus—well, Marcus is doing his best not to combust.

And Naomi? She’s left behind. Alone with the murals. And then... they touch back.

The Harrow Testament is picking up steam. This is the point where desire starts to blur with dread, and the house itself becomes more than a setting. It’s a character. A participant. A seducer. A voyeur. And possibly something far worse.

If you’re new, start at the beginning. If you’ve been following along, you already know:

This isn’t just a haunted house story.

It’s temptation.

It’s revelation.

It’s rot.

And the house is keeping score.

— Eric