The headlights flicker as the vehicle rolls to a stop before the rusted iron gates. A heavy mist creeps along the gravel path, curling around the tires and licking at the shoes of the lone visitor. The manor’s facade is battered and peeling, its doors slightly ajar, as if inviting the darkness to feast within.
The footsteps echo in the cavernous hallway, each creak a warning. Portraits of unsmiling faces glare from the walls, their eyes following every movement. Cobwebs hang from the chandelier, swaying gently as if disturbed by an unseen presence.
A faint, chilling melody drifts through the silence, though no hands touch the keys. The air grows colder, breath turning to mist. The visitor’s heart pounds as the notes grow louder, merging with a whisper that seems to seep from the walls themselves.
A mirror at the end of the hallway catches a fleeting reflection—a pale, contorted figure standing just behind. The visitor spins, flashlight trembling, but only emptiness greets the gaze. The silence is broken by a sudden, low laughter, echoing from the depths of the house.
A diary lies atop a chest, its pages filled with frantic, desperate scrawls. The words speak of betrayal, sorrow, and something lurking in the darkness. The visitor reads aloud, voice trembling, and the air grows heavy until a cold hand brushes their shoulder, freezing them in place.
The front door bursts open, letting in the wild wind and moonlight. The visitor flees into the night, heart racing, never daring to look back at the manor’s windows—where pale faces now press against the glass, watching, waiting for the next soul to enter.
