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By Aatiqa AbidPublished about a year ago 3 min read
Photo by Michael Mouritz on Unsplash

I shudder as I recount the terrifying events that unfolded during that fateful night. It was a stormy evening, rain lashing against the window panes and thunder rumbling ominously in the distance. I was alone in my creaky old house, seeking solace from the relentless storm outside. Little did I know that the true horror was about to unveil itself within those very walls.

As I sat in the dimly lit living room, the atmosphere grew increasingly eerie. Shadows danced on the walls, casting grotesque shapes that seemed to have a life of their own. I tried to dismiss my growing unease, attributing it to the storm's unsettling ambiance. But deep down, I knew something was terribly wrong.

A sudden gust of wind slammed the front door shut, causing me to jump in my seat. Startled, I rose from the sofa and ventured into the hallway, hoping to find solace in the familiarity of my home. However, what I encountered left me paralyzed with fear.

The walls of the hallway seemed to ooze a sickly, black substance that dripped menacingly onto the floor. The air grew heavy, suffocating me with an inexplicable sense of dread. In that moment, I could almost hear whispers emanating from the shadows, sinister voices that chilled me to the bone.

Fear gripping my heart, I cautiously made my way up the staircase, each step echoing through the house like a foreboding omen. As I reached the top, the hallway stretched before me like a corridor to madness. The doors to the bedrooms stood ajar, and I felt an irresistible pull, drawing me closer to the unknown horrors that awaited within.

I pushed open the first door, and what I saw froze me in my tracks. The room was in shambles, furniture overturned and broken, as if a violent tempest had ravaged through it. The walls were adorned with twisted drawings, grotesque figures that seemed to contort and twist before my very eyes. The stench of decay filled the air, making me gag as I stumbled backward in horror.

Determined to unravel the mystery that plagued my once peaceful home, I pressed on. I swung open the door to the next room, only to be greeted by a sight that would forever haunt my dreams. The room was filled with an unearthly presence, a palpable darkness that swallowed the feeble glow of the flickering light bulb. I could hear faint whispers, growing louder with each passing second, as if a legion of tortured souls sought to communicate their anguish.

As I fled from that room, desperate to escape the clutches of this nightmare, I felt a presence behind me. A cold breath grazed my neck, sending shivers down my spine. I turned around, only to see a faceless figure standing inches away, its form an indiscernible blur of shadows. A blood-curdling scream tore through my throat, but no sound escaped my lips.

With every ounce of strength left in me, I raced down the stairs, stumbling and tripping in my frantic escape. The front door stood before me like a gateway to salvation, but as I reached for the handle, it evaporated into thin air, leaving me trapped in my own personal hell.

The house seemed to pulsate with a malevolent energy, its walls closing in on me. The whispers grew louder, a cacophony of torment that threatened to drive me to madness. I sank to the floor, tears streaming down my face, as the horrors of that house consumed my very soul.

To this day, I bear the scars of that nightmarish experience, forever haunted by the horrors that lurked within the walls of my once-beloved home. It serves as a grim reminder that some terrors are not


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    AAWritten by Aatiqa Abid

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