The old manor had stood abandoned for years, a relic of a forgotten time. It loomed at the edge of the forest, its decaying facade hidden beneath layers of creeping ivy.
Rumors of strange noises had circulated for decades—whispers
that seemed to crawl through the walls. No one dared approach the place, except
for Mark and Lisa, two thrill-seekers looking for a scare.
They arrived just before sunset, flashlights in hand. The
air was thick with the smell of damp wood and rotting leaves.
As they stepped inside, the door creaked ominously behind
them. Dust hung heavy in the air, disturbed only by their nervous footsteps.
"Look at this place," Mark whispered, shining his
light on peeling wallpaper. "It's like stepping into a horror movie."
Lisa chuckled nervously but said nothing. She was already
feeling uneasy, the quiet pressing in on her like a weight. There was something
off about the house, something beyond the obvious decay.
"Let's head upstairs," Mark suggested, already
moving toward the grand staircase.
As they ascended, the floor groaned beneath their feet. The
second floor was worse—darker, colder. The air seemed stagnant, like it hadn’t
moved in years. And then came the first whisper.
"Did you hear that?" Lisa stopped in her tracks.
Mark froze. "Hear what?"
It came again, soft and indistinct, like someone breathing
words into their ears from the walls themselves. "No," Mark shook his
head, trying to mask his growing fear. "It's just the wind."
But it wasn’t the wind. They both knew it.