On the outskirts of the city stood a mansion everyone avoided. Its gates were rusted shut, and its windows remained dark even in daylight. Locals claimed the house was alive, breathing with the memories of those who never escaped.
Years ago, the mansion belonged to a wealthy family that vanished overnight. No bodies were found, but neighbors reported screams echoing through the walls for weeks. Since then, anyone who entered never stayed sane.
One night, historian Neel decided to uncover the truth. As he stepped inside, the doors slammed shut. The air smelled of damp wood and sorrow. Portraits on the walls followed him with their eyes. A clock began ticking, though its hands were broken.
From the grand staircase emerged a woman in white, her face cracked like porcelain. “This house remembers,” she whispered. The walls began to bleed shadows, showing flashes of betrayal, murder, and fire.
Neel realized the mansion fed on secrets. It trapped souls who knew the truth but never spoke it. At dawn, the mansion stood silent again.
Neel was found wandering the road, mute and trembling. The mansion still waits—for someone else brave enough to learn its truth and become part of it forer.
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