The storm
raged outside,
lightning
illuminating
the old,
forgotten house
at the end of
the lane.
Inside, Sarah
could hear the
whispers
calling her
name, a sound
as sweet as it
was sinister.
She glanced at
the mirror, her
reflection
smirking back,
though she wore
a look of
terror.
The door
creaked open on
its own,
revealing a
dark figure
cloaked in
shadows.
Heart
pounding, she
stepped back,
but the figure
motioned her
closer with a
skeletal hand.
Suddenly, the
room darkened,
and the
whispers grew
louder,
chanting in a
language she
didn't
understand.
In that
moment, the
truth hit her
like ice water:
she had
awakened
something that
was never meant
to be
disturbed.
With one last
desperate
scream, she
felt herself
pulled into the
abyss, where
darkness danced
with madness.
The storm
outside raged
on, but the
house stood
silent once
more, the
whispers now
confined to the
shadows.
And somewhere,
somehow,
Sarah’s
reflection
still lingered
in the mirror,
waiting for the
next
unsuspecting
soul.
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