Hello.

I re-did this because I wasn't happy with the other one. I thought it would be great when I finished the prologue, but it turned out that everything I had planned would not go with it and it would not make any sense. I have to say I like this version better for sure.

Also, a big thank you goes out to Dannyandsamlover for helping me with the rhymes in this story. I cannot rhyme and it seems she can!

Disclaimer- I do not own Danny Phantom or any related characters. They are the sole property of Butch Hartman and Nickelodeon Studios. The Jumanji plot also does not belong to me.

(General POV)

A moving truck screeched to a halt in front of an enormous, white Antebellum-era mansion. An eerie morning glow was casting over it.

It was early January in the town of Amity Park and trees and flowers were not yet in bloom. The yard was littered with leaves and broken branches from the many trees-some were oak and others magnolia. An iron fence and gate welcomed anyone who entered.

Its long, elegant columns adorned the front of the century-old house and shutters were missing from many of the windows. Overgrown ivy and vines weaved their way through the fence and over and under the front porch. The front walk was cracked and worn from decades of use and decay.

A limousine stopped behind the moving truck and a family of four emerged from the black car. A dark-skinned girl followed.

The male was a blonde who, due to his long business trips, could afford to move his family from place to place. It seemed he was content with Amity Park because they had moved only a little ways across town opposed to half way across the country. Mr. Thurston Manson was the wealthy person who bought this large home.

The lady was a beautiful redhead who was Mr. Manson's mistress. She loved travel and enjoyed moving from place to place. She was not disappointed that they had only moved across town-she liked Amity Park quite a bit. Mrs. Lillian Manson was the wife of the wealthy man who bought this mysterious house.

An elderly woman followed her son's wife from the car. A scooter was placed before her. She knew that her son loved to travel like his wife and understood that it involved moving a lot. The old-aged female did not care where they moved-but yet she was happy with Amity. Mrs. Charlotte Manson was the oldest of the family.

A pale, scrawny, yet gorgeous middle-aged teenager stood beside her parents in awe of the home. The ebony-haired girl could care less about where they moved and how large the house was. She liked Amity because she had finally found a friend. Samantha 'Sam' Manson did not plan to leave the town any time soon.

A teen of African descent stood alongside Sam. Her father had lost his job, meaning that they were not considered wealthy like her friend. Nevertheless, Sam still spoke to her and considered her a friend. "I hope they think this is big enough", thought Valerie Gray.

The people from the moving van went immediately to work, opening the back door of the truck, unloading boxes and expensive mahogany and velvet furniture. Moans and grunts could be heard from the moving of the heavy items.

The five people from the limo started up the old walk, stepping over thorns, ivy, and vines, trying to pick their way through the vegetation to simply get to the front door.

"No offense Sam", began Valerie, "but this place is kind of creepy." Sam chuckled and rolled her eyes. "It is a little…old…but I think it's ok."

"I am calling the landscaping company this instant", declared Lillian, getting out her cell phone, dialing the number and waiting for someone on the other end to answer.

Sam rolled her eyes and Valerie paid no attention. Mr. Manson was fumbling with his large assortment of keys trying to find the one that went with the house. Assuming a bronze one was it, he stuck it into the door and turned it to the left. A groan, followed by a loud creak that even made Charlotte cringe, emitted from the door when he tried to open it.

A rush of old air greeted them. It appeared that the house had not been opened-nor cleaned-in decades. Dust particles were visible to the naked eye, and ancient furniture was in almost every room, covered up with what used to be white sheets.

The foyer was empty, and the marble floor needed to be professionally cleaned badly. The walls were bare in the room and along the hall. Sheets were also on the windows, which, from years of sitting, were casting a soft pink glow around the entire house.

The library, a room on the left, which doubled as an office, had French doors that led to it. Built-in bookcases yearned for books and a hand-woven rug was on the floor, the color almost gone.

A dining room was to the right, the table and chairs still in their places. Dishes were still set out, waiting to be used. Plants, or what used to be plants, were settled in two corners. A curio cabinet, which was filled with elegant china, was situated in the back of the room.

The parlor, next to the library, was the only room that appeared to be in good shape. Of course, everything was covered up, but it was the cleanest and most inviting-so to speak.

The grand staircase was at the back of the hall, the wooden trim and decorations rotting. Plaster stairs, which were topped with the same wood, were crumbling and did not seem safe to use at all.

"Well, here we are!" chirped Mr. Manson. "Nice place, eh?"

Lillian blinked and scanned the first level of the home. "Sure is, honey", she said, her voice noticeably shaking. "It'll…take some work."

"Yes, it will, but that's why we pay people to do that! We watch while they work. It's a dog-eat-dog world, sweetie", said Thurston, glancing around at the ruins of what used to be a family's home. "Sam, darling, go tell the movers to stop unloading our things and tell them to come and remove all of this. Tell them to put it in the attic."

Said girl rolled her eyes and spun on her heel and went out the door.

"Well, do you like your new house? It's a beautiful home; I see potential in it", said Valerie, who had followed Sam out of the house.

"Yeah, I guess. But something's not right. If someone were going to move out of it, they would take their stuff or it would have been thrown out into the street. And the entire property itself; why is it still there?"

Valerie was quiet. "I don't know. I agree, though. This house", she began, turning her head back towards it, "is apparently nothing but a mystery."

"It's obvious that another family lived here before-it's probably an heirloom. I don't get it. Care to help me figure it out?"

"Way ahead of you girl", said Valerie, chuckling lightly.

The two girls walked out into the street where the moving van was parked. A bulky, old man, (who looked like he was pushing fifty-five), was unloading things from the back of the large vehicle.

"Excuse me", said Sam politely. "I have been told to tell you to stop unloading our stuff and come inside and move everything that's in there to the attic."

The mover whom she'd been speaking to looked at her. Taking the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing out smoke (much to Valerie's dismay), he said, "Well, I'd better get in there then. BILLY! Call for more help. We're gonna need it."

The man called Billy came around the corner, holding a small box. He set it down and said, "Right on it, Fred."

The trio began up the front walk, taking care not to step on anything. Sam looked up. A small, circular window stared back down at her. She squinted from the sun and looked straight ahead again.

Valerie was the first to enter the house again. Sam was right behind her and Fred came last.

"What was it you wanted me to do, sir?" he asked Mr. Manson.

Thurston turned. "Oh. I wanted you and your friends to move everything out of here and put it in the attic. I apologize for this on such short notice, but we have to make room for our own things."

Fred nodded. "It's alright."

Billy and about six or seven other moving men came to the front door.

"What'd he want us to do, Freddie?" asked Billy.

"He wanted us to move all of this up to the attic", answered Fred.

"Wait, no. Change of plans fellows. I want you all to move everything to the basement. It'll be better there and it seems that the staircase is not in good shape to use yet", said Mr. Manson.

Fred looked down the hall. "Guy's got a point. Move the stuff to the basement. Hurry up, y'all-it's almost lunchtime."

The rest of the team nodded and picked up whatever they could find-but stopped.

Fred blinked. "Um, sir? Where is the basement?"

Mr. Manson fell silent. He started down the hall, watching where he was stepping. He got to the staircase and looked around where it was situated. A door in the far left corner of the room caught his eye.

He strode over to it and gave the knob a turn. "Locked. Just as I suspected", he thought. He brought out his large assortment of keys yet again and began fumbling with them yet again, trying to figure out which one went to the basement door.

Seconds turned into minutes.

Fred, Billy, and the rest of the crew were getting irritated. The things they were holding were beginning to get heavy.

"Miss, do y'all plan to redo this entirely?" asked Fred.

Lillian nodded. "Everything's wasted as it is."

Fred shifted his load and walked over to Mr. Manson. "'Xuse me sir. I think this'll do the trick." He leaned back on one leg and kicked the door open. White wood went everywhere and the sound of wood being chipped echoed throughout the house.

Mr. Manson stood staring at the mover. Fred nodded and began walking cautiously down the stairs. "It's alright. Ain't nothing gonna make you fall or trip you up", he called.

"Well, that did take care of it. Although I disapprove of…destroying the door…it was a good way to get the job done", said Mr. Manson.

Lillian blinked. "I agree."

Charlotte made her way into where they were. "What happened?"

"Nothing, Mother. Everything is fine", said Mr. Manson.

Fred came up from the basement and said, "Dark in there. Got a flashlight r' candle?"

Lillian shook her head. "Can you see down there well enough? Do you need one so you don't get hurt?"

Fred scratched the back of his neck and stretched. "I can see just fine down there in one spot, but the rest of the room is black as night. Old Gary here's afraid of the dark, so we might need one later. I'll holler atcha when we do."

A vibration spread throughout the house. Sam and Valerie were apparently the only ones who could feel it.

"Do you hear that?" asked Valerie.

Sam looked around curiously. "Yeah. Sounds like it' s coming from the attic. We aren't going to be able to get up there from that staircase. C'mon, let's go see if there's another staircase in here."

"Mom, me and Valerie are going to look around. I have my phone-call me if you want me", said Sam.

Lillian sneezed before answering Sam. "Ok sweetie. Be safe and don't go anywhere that doesn't look accessible."

"Yes, Mrs. Manson", said Valerie.

Sam spun on her heel and waltzed into the kitchen. A silver refrigerator was to the left and a breakfast bar was next to it, and a window was set above that, also covered with a sheet.

Directly ahead was a rather large window; a sink was below that. The stove was diagonally southeast of that, and counters surrounded all of that. They were white granite counters and had light oak wood below the granite. Cabinets were above every counter, and the wood was the same color as the counters. The floor was the same marble from the foyer.

"Just as dusty as the rest of the house", stated Valerie.

"I know, right. This house is not only mysterious, it's a dump. I can't believe my dad was interested in this house", said Sam. "But he likes big things…and this is a big house."

"Yeah it is. I said earlier that it had potential. It'll take a fair amount of work, but other than that, it's a dump, like you said. Once it's cleaned and everything's replaced and the land people come and clean the yard, it'll be a gorgeous house. It seems that your dad had lost it when he bought it, but he sees potential in it like me", said Valerie.

Sam walked over to the fridge and opened it. She wrinkled her nose. "A new refrigerator will be in this one's place shortly."

Valerie chuckled. "Does it stink that bad?"

"Stink? It reeks! It smells like rotten meat! And there's nothing in it!"

Valerie laughed out loud. The form of a police car stopped outside the house caught her eye. "Sam? Has anyone called the cops?"

Sam's brow furrowed. She shut the fridge door and turned to Valerie. "No, why?"

"Well, there's a cop car stopped in front of your house", said Valerie. "We'd better go see what it is he wants."

Sam inhaled. "Yeah. Let's go."

The two friends strode down the dust and grime-ridden home's hall and out the front door.

Picking their way through the vegetation, the teens made their way out to the policeman. He smiled.

"Which one of you moved into the old Fenton place?" he asked.

"I did", Sam answered.

The man's grin faded. "It's a creepy house, young lady. I heard that the boy who lived here before father killed him with one of his crazy inventions. I heard that the boy's mother and sister left his father and moved to Wisconsin, too. Then rumor has it that the boy's father killed himself, leaving the house to no one, which brings it to the state it's in now", said the policeman quietly.

Valerie's eyes widened.

"Don't believe anything you see or hear in that place. I heard that the two people's ghosts haunt the house. Call us if anything goes wrong-you know our number", he concluded.

Sam looked bewildered and intrigued at the same time. "Which makes it a perfect place for a Goth", she thought.

A radio sounded from the car. "Well, girls I have to go. Be safe in that house and remember what I told you. Sure, they're just rumors, but I bet you they're true. Buh-bye", he said, driving away.

"Sam…" began Valerie.

Sam looked back up at the small attic window. "Whatever it is, I'm going to figure it out", she thought.

"Don't let him scare you. He's just another local who's afraid of the house because of the way it looks", said Sam. "C'mon, let's go look for the other staircase."

Sam began her way up towards the front door but changed her mind. "We haven't been around to the back of the house yet. Let's go see what's back there."

Valerie nodded and followed Sam.

Dead vines and flowers were strewn everywhere. An iron patio set was next to the French doors that led inside. A lattice patio cover was above it, and a large black fountain was at the back of the property. The water was brown and leaves were disintegrating in it. It smelled of old leaves and old rainwater.

A shed stood lonely off in the distance. It, too, was overgrown with plants.

"Well, here's the back of the house. Not much, but I see a staircase that leads to a balcony", said Sam.

She picked her way over to it and stopped in front of it. Valerie was still over where they had started.

"Come on, Val. Nothing's going to hurt you. I did it and so can you", coaxed Sam. She knew that that old cop had scared her.

"Ok, Sam. I'm coming."

Sam waited for Valerie to get over to where she was. Sam looked up at the staircase. "It's a little rotten, but I think it can hold our weight."

She began going up, counting a total of eight stairs. It did not creak nor moan not once when she was going up.

"See, look. Perfectly safe."

Valerie nodded and met Sam on the balcony. Another set of French doors stood in their way.

"Well, I would do like Fred did and completely demolish the door, but I think I'll be nicer", said Sam. She gave the knob a twist.

"Valerie, give me your barrette."

The African girl took the barrette out of her hair and gave it to Sam. She bent it long-ways and began to pick the lock.

Valerie was not happy at all that her hair decoration had been destroyed, but Sam was an adventurous girl and would stop at nothing to get what she wanted.

A click sounded from the door and Sam stood up, stuffing the barrette in her pocket for possible later use. She opened the door and looked around.

What used to be white room greeted them. It held a bed, a dresser, a chest of drawers, a desk, and a peculair looking silver object was set beside the closet door. All decorations were of white-but now they were a cream color.

The twosome heard the vibration again.

"The sound is closer", whispered Sam. She walked across the room and opened the door that led to the bedroom from the hall.

The vibration got faster and louder.

Sam looked to the right and down the hall. Apparently the staircase was a long spiral one because it seemed to have no end.

Sam broke into a run and Valerie followed suit, trying to keep her cool in this mysterious house. Sam turned a corner and got onto the staircase and ran as fast as her legs would carry her up it.

The louder and faster the vibration got, the faster the two ran. They came to a halt at a thin door at the end of the staircase.

Sam jiggled the knob, and to her surprise, it opened. The vibration, which, now was considered thumping, was as loud as ever and faster than the two could run.

Each started throwing things around, desperately trying to find what was making the sound. Dust and dead bugs were everywhere once things had began to move. Sam shoved some papers away and the thumping stopped. Her brow furrowed. She picked up the box and set it onto a chest.

"Come here, Val. I think I found it."

It looked like a hand-carved box, and green painted vines were on it and the word Jumanji was in the dead center, big, white, and bold.

Sam cautiously opened the box and a game board and a large, a peculair black circle was in the middle. Game pieces, dice, and instructions were all on the side.

Sam skimmed through the instructions. "So basically, you've got to make it to the black circle thing in the middle in order to finish the game. Not bad. Wanna play?"

"…I suppose. I'm still a little shaken about what that cop said. I'm sure it'll wear off though."

Sam picked up two game pieces.

"Hey, wait Sam. Why are two game pieces already here?"

Flashback:

Two little boys by names Danny Fenton and Tucker Foley sat at a table in Danny's living room, looking at a game. Each was about four years old.

"Look, it's a game! Hey, Danny, wanna play?" asked young Tucker.

"Yeah! What's it named?"

"J…Ja…Janji. Yeah! Janji. Do you wanna go first?"

"Sure", said Danny, settling himself down across from Tucker.

"Oh! My mommy told me how to play these games. You have to roll these little boxes, and then you have to count how many is there. I'm big, I can count", said Tucker proudly.

"Hey, I can count too", said Danny.

"Ok. Well, here. Don't throw them across the room. Mommy said to keep them on the board", said Tucker, handing Danny the dice.

"Ok." Danny shook the dice lightly and tossed them across the game board.

"How many is it?" asked Tucker.

"Let me count…one, two, three, four, five. Five."

"Hey, Danny look at this. Words are in that black thing. It's turned your way. Read it!

What does it say?" said Tucker, literally bouncing with excitement.

You are landed in

The portal of darkness

And are out of sight.

You will only be trapped

Till the last turn

Is in light.

"Well?"

"I dunno. I can't read good. And you can read gooder than I can and I know you can't read it. Here", said Danny, handing Tucker back the dice, "it's your turn."

The dice never reached Tucker's hands. Danny's figure looked like it had joined forces with the wind. His figure was disintegrating, and his hands were being sucked into the black circle.

"…Danny….?" began Tucker, backing away slowly. "What's…why are your hands doing like that?"

Danny had began to let out a frightened yell and Tucker ran for the door. By that time, Danny's torso had disappeared and his feet were almost gone. Tucker's breathing had began to get frantic.

The young boy was completely gone within the game, and Tucker was left alone in the enormous home.

Ghosts materialized out of nowhere.

It was Tucker's turn to scream and the startled boy darted out the front door and never looked back.

End Flashback

"I don't know", said Sam. The raven-haired teen tried to remove them. "They won't come off!"

"Oh well. Leave them then. They just won't be used. I'll go first."

Sam nodded and handed the dice to Valerie. The girl shook them in her hands and threw them across the game board. "Three."

"What in the world…" began Sam, seeing words materializing in the black circle.

HAHAHA!! CLIFFIE!!! Now then, if you want more, you must review. And as I promised earlier, I shall respond to reviews.