The guest house

The Guest House

The old Victorian mansion stood tall and proud, its faded white paint peeling and chipped. The rusted wrought-iron fence surrounding the property creaked and groaned in the wind, warning all who approached that they were entering a place of darkness and mystery.

But the sign out front proclaimed it to be a guest house, welcoming travelers from near and far to rest their weary heads within its walls. And so, one stormy night, a young couple named Jack and Emily found themselves seeking shelter within its ancient halls.

The Arrival

As they stepped through the creaky gate, Jack and Emily couldn't help but feel a sense of foreboding. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, and the only sound was the distant rumble of thunder.

They made their way up the overgrown path to the front door, which swung open with a screech as Jack pushed it. Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the dimly-lit foyer seemed to stretch on forever.

The Host

As they wandered deeper into the mansion, Jack and Emily began to feel as though they were being watched. And then, from out of the shadows stepped a figure dressed in old-fashioned clothing, with a stern expression on his face.

"I am the proprietor of this establishment," he said, his voice cold and formal. "You may call me Mr. Smith. How may I assist you?"

"We're just looking for a room for the night," Emily replied, trying to hide her fear.

"Very well," Mr. Smith said, leading them up a grand staircase to the second floor. "Follow me."

The Room

The room he showed them was large and spacious, with a four-poster bed and an ornate fireplace. But the windows were barred, and the only light came from a single flickering candle.

"We'll take it," Jack said, handing over a wad of cash.

"Very good," Mr. Smith replied, his eyes gleaming in the candlelight. "Sleep well."

As he left the room, Jack and Emily couldn't shake the feeling that they were not alone in the house. But exhaustion overtook them, and they drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

The Nightmare

But their rest was short-lived. In the middle of the night, Jack was awakened by a rustling sound coming from the foot of the bed. He opened his eyes to see a figure standing there, shrouded in darkness.

"Emily," he whispered, nudging her awake. "Do you see that?"

As she opened her eyes, the figure moved closer, revealing a pale face twisted in a grotesque grin. Jack and Emily screamed and scrambled out of bed, but the figure followed them, its shadowy form moving impossibly fast.

They ran through the darkened halls of the mansion, their footsteps echoing loudly in the empty space. But no matter where they turned, the figure was there, its cold laughter echoing in their ears.

The Escape

Finally, they burst through the front door of the mansion, panting and gasping for air. The storm outside had intensified, with rain pelting down and lightning flashing across the sky.

As they stumbled away from the house, they turned back to see the figure standing in the doorway, its twisted grin still visible in the flickering light.

They never spoke of what happened in the guest house again. But the memory of that night haunted them both for the rest of their lives, a reminder that not all places are as they seem.

Conclusion

Some say that the old Victorian mansion still stands, welcoming travelers into its dark embrace. And if you listen closely on a quiet night, you can hear the echoes of Jack and Emily's screams, warning all who approach that