I had always been drawn to the old mansion on the hill. Rumors swirled that it was haunted, but I didn't believe them. I was a skeptic, a seeker of truth and reason. So, when I inherited the mansion from a distant relative, I saw it as an opportunity to uncover its secrets.
As I stepped inside, a chill ran down my spine. The air was thick with the scent of decay and rot. I began to explore, my footsteps echoing off the walls. Every step creaked, as if the house itself was protesting my presence.
I came across a door that caught my attention. It was old and worn, with a rusted lock that seemed to stare at me like an unblinking eye. I tried the handle, but it wouldn't budge. The lock was stuck, or perhaps it was locked from the other side.
My curiosity piqued, I searched for a key. After hours of searching, I finally found one hidden in a dusty vase. I inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The mechanism creaked, and the door groaned open.
Beyond the door lay a narrow stairway, leading down into darkness. I hesitated, my heart pounding in my chest. Something felt off, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I took a deep breath and began my descent.
The stairs seemed to go on forever, each step leading me deeper into the depths of the earth. I stumbled, my foot catching on a loose step. As I regained my balance, I heard a faint whisper in my ear. "You shouldn't be here."
I spun around, but there was no one in sight. The whisper seemed to come from all around me, echoing off the walls. I quickened my pace, my heart racing with fear.
At the bottom of the stairs, I found myself in a small, damp chamber. The walls were lined with ancient symbols, etched into the stone. In the center of the room, a single candle flickered, casting eerie shadows on the walls.
Suddenly, the candle went out, plunging me into darkness. I heard footsteps, heavy and deliberate, coming from the shadows. I tried to run, but my feet felt heavy, as if rooted to the spot.
A figure emerged from the darkness, its face twisted in a grotesque grimace. I tried to scream, but my voice was frozen in my throat. The figure reached out a bony hand and touched my face, and everything went black.
When I awoke, I was back in the entrance hall, the door with the rusted lock still shut before me. I stumbled backward, my mind reeling with terror. I knew then that some secrets were better left unspoken, some doors better left locked.
As I stumbled out of the mansion, I knew I would never forget the horror that lay beyond the lock on the door. I would never speak of it again, hoping that the secrets of the old house would remain forever buried. But the memory of that terrible place would haunt me, a constant reminder of the terrors that lurked in the shadows, waiting to pounce.
I tried to convince myself it was just my imagination, but I knew the truth. The lock on the door was more than just a rusted mechanism.
From that day on, I avoided the old mansion, fearful of what lay beyond the lock on the door. But sometimes, in the dead of night, I would hear the whisper in my ear, reminding me of the terror that awaited those who dared to unlock the secrets of the past.
About the Creator
Isra Saleem
Versatile writer skilled in both tale & stories. Captivate readers with engaging content & immersive narratives. Passionate about informing, inspiring, & entertaining through words.
Comments (1)
Very good.