The only sound is the crunch of footsteps as a lone figure approaches, flashlight trembling in their hand. Shadows seem to slither along the walls, stretching with each beam of light. The air smells of damp earth and forgotten secrets.
The figure sweeps the flashlight across the room, illuminating shattered mirrors and toppled furniture. A grandfather clock ticks despite the absence of power, its hands frozen at midnight. A chill runs down their spine as an icy draft whispers through the hallway.
The figure hesitates, heart pounding, as the temperature drops suddenly. From the corner of their eye, movement flickers—a fleeting outline, impossibly thin and elongated. The wail rises into a guttural moan, echoing through the house.
Trembling, the figure inches closer, unable to look away from the glass. The face in the mirror twists into a grotesque smile, lips parting to reveal rows of jagged, blackened teeth. The figure raises their voice, desperate for reassurance.
"Who's there? Show yourself!"
The room is filled with a bone-chilling scream as the figure is dragged toward the broken glass. The house groans and shudders, darkness swallowing the last sliver of light. Cold laughter reverberates through the halls, blending with the howling wind outside.
A single bloody handprint stains the shattered mirror, the only sign anyone was ever there. The forest stands silent and watchful, as if holding its breath. In the distance, something whispers, waiting for the next visitor.
