Wampus House stands apart from the flow of time. Over four generations of our family, it has lived, died, and been reborn.
The House had a good run as a normal home during those first two generations. Our people cooked, slept, laughed, gardened, wept, loved…well, all the things we still do now. But at the time of its death, the House was freed of its tethers to consensus reality, opening doors to the uncanny.
Things have gone a little off since then, but we like it here. Now, we’ve decided to crack open our door—no, not the front door, the one in the hidden alcove, the one with the porthole—and offer you a glimpse. A chance to bring one of our relics into your own home, to hold it close and let it be a beacon of the odd in a world of drudgery.
And, if you’ve the time and inclination, we’ll share some tales and secrets. Things you didn’t know you needed to know.
So grab a mason jar and lean against our kitchen counter. Stay a while. Oh, those strange sounds?
We don’t know if any haints reside in Wampus House, and we likely never will.
Because we have cats.