💥 FIRST STEP💥
Late one evening, Amelia found herself driving through the thick fog of the countryside. Her car’s GPS had malfunctioned, and she was hopelessly lost. The fog rolled in heavier by the minute, swallowing the narrow road ahead. The tall trees on either side loomed like silent sentinels, their branches curling down like skeletal hands. As her fuel gauge dipped into the red, a flicker of light caught her attention from a large, abandoned mansion looming on the horizon.
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Desperate for help, Amelia parked her car and approached the house. The ancient structure was imposing, its wooden frame creaking under the weight of time. The windows, long shattered, gaped like hollow eyes, and ivy curled up the walls like twisted veins. Despite her instinct to turn back, she knocked on the door.
To her surprise, the door swung open on its own with a low groan. Inside, the house was eerily quiet, the air thick with dust and decay. She called out, but no one answered. The only sound was her footsteps echoing through the vast, empty halls. Faintly, she could hear the drip of water somewhere in the distance.
Amelia wandered further in, her heart racing. Portraits of long-dead owners stared down from the walls, their eyes following her every move. She stumbled upon a staircase leading to the upper floors, her curiosity outweighing her fear. As she ascended, she noticed a door at the far end of the hall. Unlike the others, this door was pristine, almost glowing in the dim light.
Drawn to it, she turned the brass handle and entered. The room was silent, almost unnaturally so. It was furnished in an old-fashioned style, with an elaborate four-poster bed, a vanity, and a full-length mirror in the corner. But something was off. The air felt too thick, too oppressive.
Suddenly, she noticed something in the mirror—a figure standing behind her. Frozen in fear, she whipped around, but the room was empty. The reflection showed the figure again, a tall, gaunt man with hollow eyes, staring directly at her. His mouth moved silently, as if screaming, but no sound came out. Panicking, she tried to leave, but the door wouldn’t budge.
The figure stepped closer in the mirror, its hand reaching out for her. She felt a cold, clammy grip on her shoulder, even though nothing was there. Her breath hitched as the air around her grew colder and colder.
Desperate, she slammed her fist against the door, finally breaking it open. She ran down the stairs, through the dark corridors, and back into the misty night. The house seemed to groan as she fled, the fog wrapping around her like a shroud.
Amelia made it to her car, heart pounding, and sped away without looking back. But as she glanced in her rearview mirror, she saw him—the gaunt figure standing in the middle of the road, his hollow eyes staring back at her.
He was still there, waiting.
