On a stormy
night, Sarah
found an old
book in her
attic.
Its leather
cover was
cracked, and
the pages felt
unusually warm.
Curiosity drew
her in, and she
opened it to
reveal strange
symbols.
As she read
the first line,
a chill swept
through the
room.
The lights
flickered,
casting eerie
shadows on the
walls.
With each word
she spoke, the
air grew
thicker.
She felt a
presence
lurking just
beyond her
vision.
Suddenly, the
whispers
began—soft at
first, then
uproarious.
A figure
emerged from
the darkness,
shrouded in
shadows.
Its eyes
burned like
coals, and its
mouth twisted
into a grin.
Sarah stumbled
back, realizing
she had
awakened
something
ancient.
The room felt
colder, the
shadows
swirling around
her.
“Why have you
called me?” it
hissed in a
raspy voice.
Panic surged
as she tried to
close the book,
but it wouldn't
budge.
The walls
pulsed, and the
air turned
acrid and
suffocating.
“Your words
bind me,” the
figure growled,
advancing
towards her.
In
desperation,
Sarah slammed
the book shut,
but it only
laughed.
“Once
awakened, I
cannot be
contained,” it
taunted with a
wicked glee.
The lights
shattered as a
cacophony of
voices engulfed
her.
She was
trapped—between
the pages and
the nightmare
they breathed.
The attic door
creaked open,
as if inviting
her surrender.
And in the
suffocating
darkness, she
realized there
was no escape.
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