That night, Emma lay awake in one of the mansion's grand guest rooms. The bed was large and comfortable, but sleep wouldn’t come.
The house was too quiet, unnervingly so, with only the
occasional creak of old wood breaking the silence. Emma’s thoughts were a whirl
of anxiety. The mansion felt alive, as if it was watching her every move.
A soft whisper caught her attention. She sat up, straining
to hear. The sound was faint, almost indistinguishable from the rustle of the
wind, but it was definitely a voice.
It seemed to be coming from the hallway just outside her
room. Emma’s heart raced as she slid out of bed, her bare feet touching the
cold wooden floor.
The hallway was dimly lit by flickering sconces, casting
eerie shadows that danced along the walls. The whispering grew louder, more
distinct, though she couldn’t make out the words.
It was as if the walls themselves were speaking to her. She
followed the sound, her hand trailing along the wall, feeling the cool, rough
texture of the old wood beneath her fingers.
As she turned the corner, the whispering stopped abruptly.
She found herself facing a door she hadn’t noticed before. It was slightly
ajar, and a dim light spilled out from within. Emma hesitated, her instincts
screaming at her to turn back, but something compelled her to push the door
open.
Inside, the room was small and cluttered, filled with old
furniture covered in dust and cobwebs. In the center of the room was a large,
ornate mirror, its surface dull and clouded with age.
Emma approached it cautiously, her reflection barely visible
in the murky glass. As she stood there, the whispering began again, louder this
time, more insistent.
The mirror’s surface started to ripple, like water disturbed
by a stone. Emma’s reflection twisted and warped, her features distorting into
something grotesque and unrecognizable. She stumbled back, her heart pounding,
but her feet felt rooted to the spot.
Suddenly, the room grew colder, and the whispering became a
chorus of voices, all speaking at once, too fast and too loud to understand.
The mirror’s surface darkened, and a shadowy figure began to emerge from
within, its form tall and indistinct, like smoke given shape.
Emma’s breath caught in her throat as the figure stepped out
of the mirror, its presence overwhelming and suffocating. She tried to scream,
but no sound came out. The figure reached out, its hand cold and skeletal,
brushing against her cheek.
“You shouldn’t have
come here,” it whispered, its voice echoing in her mind.
And then everything went black.