The wind
howled through
the dilapidated
house at the
edge of town.
Ella stood
frozen in the
doorway, her
flashlight
flickering as
shadows danced
on the walls.
The stories
her grandmother
told her, of
the spirits
that roamed the
halls, echoed
in her mind.
Suddenly, a
whisper brushed
against her
ear, so soft
yet chilling,
urging her to
come closer.
With a
trembling hand,
she pushed open
the door to the
long-abandoned
cellar.
An
overwhelming
stench of decay
greeted her,
mixed with the
metallic tang
of something
ancient.
As she stepped
into the
darkness, the
door slammed
shut behind
her, trapping
her inside.
In the pitch
black, a pair
of glowing eyes
emerged from
the shadows,
watching her
every move.
Her heart
raced as she
remembered the
tales; some
doors are best
left unopened.
Ella's scream
was muffled by
the oppressive
darkness,
swallowed by
the silence of
the forsaken
house.
Outside, the
wind continued
to wail, as if
mourning the
loss of another
lost soul.
The town never
spoke of Ella
again, but the
wind whispered
her name with
every gust.
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