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Dark Whispers

Trapped in a Mansion of Darkness and Despair

By Viorel SecareanuPublished about a year ago 4 min read
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Image by Mystic Art Design from Pixabay

The old mansion had a history of horrors that echoed through the halls. It was a place of unrelenting darkness and dread. From the outside, it looked like any other grand old house, but within, it was a different story. The walls themselves seemed to have a life of their own, absorbing the pain and suffering of its inhabitants throughout the centuries. But little did anyone know that the walls had a voice of their own, a voice that could speak of unspeakable terrors.

The first time I heard the voice, I was sitting in the corner of the room, watching the moonlight filter through the dusty window. It was a low whisper that I could barely make out, but it was enough to send chills down my spine. At first, I thought it was my imagination, but as the whispers grew louder, I knew there was something sinister within the walls.

"Hello," the voice said. "I've been waiting for you."

I was too stunned to respond, too afraid to even move. I had never encountered anything like this before, and the fear of the unknown was overwhelming.

"Don't be afraid," the voice continued. "I just want to talk. Tell me, what do you fear the most?"

The question caught me off guard, and for a moment, I couldn't find the words to respond. But as the silence grew heavier, I finally spoke.

"I fear death," I said, my voice trembling.

There was a pause, and then the voice laughed, a cold and sinister sound that filled the room.

"Death is the least of your worries," the voice said. "There are far worse things than death."

Over the next few days, the voice grew louder and more insistent, filling my mind with images of blood and gore. I could hear the screams of past victims, their pain and suffering etched into the walls themselves. And as the days turned into weeks, I began to feel as though the walls were closing in around me, suffocating me with their darkness.

But then, something changed. The voice grew softer, more plaintive, and I could sense a note of desperation in its tone.

"Please, help me," the voice said. "I'm trapped here, alone in the darkness. I need your help."

I was hesitant at first, but something about the voice's plea touched me, and I decided to investigate. I searched the walls, tracing my fingers along the ancient stone, and finally, I found it.

A small crack in the wall, barely visible, but big enough for me to peer through. And what I saw on the other side will haunt me for the rest of my days.

The room beyond was filled with shadows, and in the center of the room was a figure, huddled in the darkness. It was a woman, her hair matted with sweat and blood, her eyes wide with fear.

"Please," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Get me out of here."

I knew I had to act quickly. I searched for a way to break through the wall, to free the woman from her prison, but there was no easy way out. I could feel the darkness growing stronger, pressing down on me with an intensity that was almost unbearable.

And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the voice fell silent. The woman disappeared from the room beyond, and I was left alone in the darkness, unsure of what had just transpired.

The mansion remains a place of unspeakable horrors, a place where the walls themselves speak of darkness and pain. But now, I know the truth. The voice within the walls was not a curse, but a warning, a warning of the horrors that lie within the heart of the mansion. And as I sit here I heard a sound that chilled me to the bone. It was a low growl, a sound that seemed to come from the very depths of the earth. And then, the growl turned into a scream, a scream of pure agony and terror.

I could hear the sound of something scraping against the walls, and then, suddenly, the walls themselves began to shake. I felt the ground beneath me shift, and then, with a deafening roar, the mansion began to collapse in on itself.

I was trapped, buried alive in a tomb of stone and darkness. The walls that had once been my only companion were now my prison, and the voice that had haunted me for so long was now silent.

As I lay there in the darkness, waiting for death to claim me, I knew that the mansion was cursed, that it had always been cursed. And I knew that I would never be free, that I would be trapped within these walls for all eternity.

The horror of the mansion had consumed me, body and soul, and now, as the darkness closed in around me, I knew that I was doomed to spend the rest of my days as a prisoner of the walls.

ScriptShort StoryMysteryHorrorClassicalAdventure
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About the Creator

Viorel Secareanu

I share thoughts on photography and life, mostly lessons learned around things I’ve been dealing with the last few years, managing time, finding focus, and being happy.

Thanks for stopping by. I hope you find something inspiring here!

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