Waverly Mansion, perched atop a hill overlooking the town of Hollow Haven, had been abandoned for decades. Locals whispered of ghostly apparitions, chilling drafts, and walls that whispered secrets in the dead of night. But what truly made the mansion infamous was its peculiar former owner, Lord Percival Waverly, a man with a penchant for both the macabre and... slapstick comedy.

When young journalist Clara ventured into the mansion on a dare, she was armed with a flashlight, a notebook, and a very skeptical mindset. The entrance hall was grand, with a chandelier that hung precariously, as if ready to drop on an unsuspecting visitor. Clara smirked, "Classic Waverly," she thought, recalling tales of the Lord's love for setting up harmless pranks to scare his guests.

As she ventured deeper, the atmosphere grew colder. Clara could hear faint whispers, growing louder with each step. Following the sound, she found herself in the mansion's grand library. The whispers seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Bracing herself, she leaned in, and the walls whispered, "Watch your step!"

Confused, Clara took a step back, only to trigger a panel on the floor. Suddenly, the bookshelf rotated, revealing a secret room. But instead of a dark, scary chamber, it was a quirky den filled with rubber chickens, whoopee cushions, and portraits of Lord Waverly pulling ridiculous faces.

Amused yet perplexed, Clara continued her exploration. But as night fell, the mansion's true nature began to emerge. Shadows danced on the walls, and the whispers grew more insistent, shifting from playful warnings to eerie predictions.

In the ballroom, Clara encountered the ghostly figure of Lord Waverly himself. He floated, surrounded by a blue aura, juggling ghostly rubber chickens. "Ah, a visitor!" he exclaimed. "Care for a joke before your impending doom?"

Clara, both terrified and baffled, replied, "Doom? What do you mean?"

Lord Waverly sighed, "This mansion has a curse. By dawn, you'll become one of its permanent residents, forever trapped between the realms. But on the bright side, you'll have an eternity to perfect your comedic timing!"

Desperate, Clara searched for an escape. The whispers guided her, alternating between helpful hints and terrible puns. As dawn approached, she found herself in the attic, where a window led to the roof. With the ghostly apparitions closing in, Clara made a daring leap, landing on a giant air cushion that had been set up outside as another of Waverly's pranks.

As she caught her breath, Clara looked up at the mansion. Lord Waverly waved from a window, shouting, "Same time next year?"

Clara chuckled, "Not on your afterlife!"

The end.