The old
mansion loomed
at the end of
the street,
cloaked in
shadow.
Legends spoke
of a ghostly
figure that
wandered its
halls at night.
Curiosity
tugged at
Rachel, pushing
her to
investigate
despite the
warnings.
As she crossed
the threshold,
the air
thickened, a
chill crawling
up her spine.
An echoing
whisper called
her name from
the darkness,
promising
secrets long
buried.
The floor
creaked
ominously
beneath her
feet as she
ventured
further inside.
Suddenly, the
door slammed
shut behind
her, trapping
her in a web of
fear.
Images of a
lost soul
flickered in
the corners of
her vision,
drawing closer.
She felt her
breath hitch as
icy fingers
brushed against
her neck.
Panic surged
as she realized
she was not
merely an
observer; she
was now part of
the story.
And in that
moment, she
understood the
true horror of
the mansion: it
fed on fear.
Her screams
echoed through
the halls, but
they were
swallowed by
the darkness.
No one would
hear her in
this place
where silence
was the only
answer.
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