Echoes of the Forgotten

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 The air in the old Victorian house was thick with the scent of mildew and decay. Josh stood at the entrance, a flashlight in one hand, his heart pounding in his chest. He had always been drawn to abandoned places, curious about the stories they held within their crumbling walls. But this house was different. There were whispers about it in town, tales of people who had ventured in and never returned. Josh dismissed them as mere superstition—until now.

As he stepped inside, the door creaked shut behind him, the sound echoing through the empty hallways. He took a deep breath and ventured further, the beam of his flashlight slicing through the darkness. The floorboards groaned under his weight, each step sending a shiver down his spine.

He reached the grand staircase, its wooden balustrades intricately carved with faces twisted in agony. A chill ran down his spine as he felt eyes on him, though he knew he was alone. He shook off the feeling and climbed the stairs, drawn to a room at the end of the hall.

The door to the room was slightly ajar, and as he pushed it open, a cold breeze washed over him. Inside, the room was eerily pristine, as if untouched by time. A large, ornate mirror stood against one wall, its surface covered in a layer of dust. Josh approached it, wiping away the grime with his sleeve.

For a moment, he saw only his reflection, pale and wide-eyed. Then, behind him, the shadowy figure of a woman appeared. Her eyes were hollow, her mouth a gaping maw of darkness. Josh spun around, but the room was empty. He turned back to the mirror, and she was gone. His breath came in shallow gasps as he backed away, the flashlight flickering in his trembling hand.

Suddenly, the door slammed shut, trapping him inside. He rushed to it, pulling at the handle, but it wouldn't budge. Panic set in, and he pounded on the door, screaming for help. The walls seemed to close in on him, the air growing colder by the second. He felt a presence behind him and slowly turned to face the mirror again.

The woman was there, closer now, her face twisted in a sinister grin. Her hand reached out from the glass, cold fingers wrapping around his wrist. He tried to pull away, but her grip was unyielding. She whispered his name, her voice like nails on a chalkboard.

"Josh... Join me..."

He felt a tug, and suddenly, he was being pulled into the mirror. He fought against it, but it was as if an invisible force was dragging him into the depths of the glass. His screams echoed through the room as he was engulfed by darkness.

Days later, a search party found the house, drawn by Josh's abandoned car outside. They entered cautiously, calling his name. When they reached the room with the mirror, they found it empty, save for the dusty footprints leading to the door.

One of the men, Dan, approached the mirror and wiped away the dust. His heart froze as he saw Josh's face staring back at him from the other side, eyes wide with terror. Before he could react, Josh's mouth moved, and a whisper escaped the glass.

"Help me..."

Dan stumbled back, horror gripping his heart. The reflection of the woman appeared beside Josh, her grin widening. He turned to his companions, but the room was empty. The door had slammed shut, trapping him inside.

As the whispers grew louder, Dan realized the truth. The house wasn't abandoned—it was a trap, feeding on the souls of the curious. The last thing he saw was the woman's hand reaching out for him, pulling him into the mirror's dark abyss.

The house stood silent once more, waiting for its next victim. Outside, the wind whispered through the trees, carrying the echoes of the forgotten. And in the mirror, the faces of the lost stared out, their eyes pleading for release, forever trapped in a reflection of horror and despair.

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