Rina stood with Dika and Nita, staring at the ominous silhouette of the house. "Relax, it's just an empty house. What could possibly happen?" "Right, the worst we'll find is a cockroach," Nita added, trying to sound brave. But the creaking door seemed to mock their bravery as they stepped inside, flashlights in hand. The air was frigid, and each step stirred up clouds of dust from the neglected furniture.
As Rina led the way, a sudden noise from above halted their progress. "It's just mice, probably," Dika shrugged, though his voice wavered slightly. "That sounded heavier than mice," Nita whispered, eyes wide with unease. Drawn by curiosity and a hint of dread, they ascended the creaking stairs, each step echoing their hesitation.
The laughter of a child drifted faintly through the air, sending chills down Rina's spine. "I don't want to go in there," Nita protested. "Come on, it's just an old room," Dika urged, pushing open the door further. Inside, a rocking chair swayed back and forth, seemingly of its own accord. Atop it sat a tattered doll, its vacant eyes fixed upon them.
Rina's flashlight flickered, then died, leaving them in pitch blackness. Panic surged through her as she fumbled to relight it. When it finally blazed back to life, her breath caught in her throat. In the corner stood a woman, her hair cascading over her face, her visage a mask of ruin. "Leave... before it's too late..." her voice rasped, echoing with an ancient sorrow. A piercing scream shattered the moment, followed by the crash of breaking glass.
They bolted for the stairs, the path twisting and turning beneath their feet. The house seemed to struggle against their escape, the walls closing in. With a final burst of desperation, they burst into the night, the door slamming shut behind them with a resounding finality. None dared to glance back, the oppressive silence of the house a haunting memory.
The following day, Dika was absent from school. Concerned, Rina and Nita went to his house, only to discover a chilling message scrawled on his desk in his handwriting: "I am still in the house." Rina shivered, the memory of the woman's warning echoing in her mind. The rhythmic tapping of fingers on wood seemed to resonate from nowhere, a grim reminder of the night they dared to disturb the haunted past.
