The Unseen

The old house stood at the forest's edge, abandoned for years. It loomed like a forgotten memory, shrouded in shadows. The villagers whispered about strange lights and unexplained noises, but no one dared to venture close—until tonight.

The moon hung low, casting eerie patterns on the ground. The door creaked open with a mournful wail. The air was heavy with the scent of decay and something foul, like the stench of fear itself.

Inside, the darkness was almost tangible, pressing in from all sides. The floorboards groaned underfoot, every step feeling wrong. Shadows danced in the corners, forming shapes that were not quite human.

The temperature dropped suddenly, and a low hum began, barely perceptible at first but growing more insistent. It was a sound that crawled under the skin, making the hairs on the back of the neck stand on end. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, a disembodied presence that filled the space.

A slightly ajar door at the end of the hallway stood as an invitation or perhaps a warning. The hallway seemed to stretch longer with each step. The hum grew into a chorus of whispers, unintelligible yet laced with menace, voices that seemed to beckon and taunt.

The door creaked open, revealing a small room, barren except for a single, old mirror hanging on the wall. The glass was foggy and distorted, but something moved within it—something that shouldn't be there. The reflection was wrong, showing not the room but a dark, endless void where figures writhed and reached out.

And then, the reflection shifted, focusing on the one standing before it. The face in the mirror was not their own. It was a gaunt, hollow-eyed visage, a twisted mockery of humanity, mouth twisted into a grotesque grin. Its eyes, black as the void, stared back with an intensity that burned into the soul.

The whispers became screams, drowning out all thought. The face in the mirror began to move, its hand pressing against the glass, trying to break through. The glass began to crack, spiderwebbing under the pressure, the thing in the mirror growing more frantic, more determined.

Suddenly, the mirror shattered, leaving a suffocating silence. The air was thick with dread as if the house had swallowed its visitor whole, leaving nothing but an empty, abandoned room—waiting for the next soul to wander in.

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