I stood outside the old house, my knife clutched tightly in my pocket. The darkness of the night seemed to close in around me, and I could hear the rustling of leaves in the wind. I had heard that this house was haunted, but I didn’t believe it. I was here to prove that there was nothing to be afraid of.
As I pushed open the creaky door, a chill ran down my spine. The air inside was damp and musty, and the floorboards creaked beneath my feet. I could feel something watching me, but I couldn’t see anything in the shadows.
I made my way through the dark halls, searching for any sign of life. The only sound was the ticking of an old grandfather clock. As the hands moved closer to midnight, the ticking grew louder and more ominous.
Suddenly, I heard a whisper behind me. I spun around, my knife at the ready, but there was no one there. I tried to shake off the feeling of being watched and continued on my way.
The next room I entered was even more eerie than the last. It was filled with strange objects – old books, dusty mirrors, and a collection of antique dolls. But what caught my eye was a portrait hanging on the wall.
It was a portrait of a woman with long dark hair and piercing blue eyes. As I stared at her, her eyes seemed to follow me around the room. Suddenly, her mouth opened and she let out a blood-curdling scream.
I stumbled backwards in terror, tripping over an old rug and falling to the ground. The portrait was now empty, the woman nowhere to be seen.
As I scrambled to my feet, I could hear footsteps coming from down the hall. I gripped my knife even tighter as I waited for whatever was coming towards me.
But when it appeared in front of me, it was not what I expected. It was a ghostly figure, with long white hair and a face twisted in agony. It floated towards me slowly, its eyes locked on mine.
I tried to run, but my legs wouldn’t move. The ghostly figure was getting closer and closer, and I could feel its breath on my neck.
Just as it reached out to touch me, I woke up in a cold sweat. It had all been a nightmare – or so I thought.
As I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There were two deep scratches on my neck – as if something had clawed at me in my sleep.
I knew then that the old house was not just haunted – it was cursed. And I would never return again.