The Forgotten Manor

In the small town of Ravenswood, whispered tales of the forgotten manor on the hill were common. Children dared each other to go near it, and adults warned them off with stern looks and stories of vanished people. The manor, shrouded in perpetual twilight by the ancient oaks surrounding it, seemed to breathe a sinister life of its own.

Jenna was new to Ravenswood. She moved there to escape the bustling city life, seeking solace and a fresh start after a painful breakup. The quaint town seemed perfect, but the manor piqued her curiosity. Unlike the townsfolk, she wasn't afraid of old houses or ghost stories. She saw them as relics of history, waiting to be uncovered. 

One crisp autumn evening, driven by a mix of boredom and intrigue, Jenna decided to explore the manor. Armed with only a flashlight and her phone, she set out as the sun dipped below the horizon. The walk up the hill was eerily silent; even the birds seemed to avoid the path.

The manor loomed ahead, its windows dark and empty like soulless eyes. The air grew colder as she approached, but Jenna pressed on, determined to uncover the secrets within. The door, surprisingly unlocked, creaked open, revealing a grand foyer coated in dust. The air was thick with the scent of decay and something else—something metallic.

Jenna's flashlight beam cut through the darkness, illuminating the decayed elegance of the house. Cobwebs draped over chandeliers, and faded portraits of long-forgotten residents lined the walls. She wandered from room to room, her footsteps echoing in the hollow silence. 

As she ventured deeper, the air grew colder, and an uneasy feeling settled in her stomach. She stumbled upon a grand staircase and decided to explore the upper floors. The steps groaned under her weight, each one echoing through the manor like a mournful sigh.

On the second floor, she found a series of bedrooms, each more decayed than the last. One room, however, stood out. It was immaculate, untouched by time. A large four-poster bed with pristine white sheets dominated the room, and a dressing table adorned with an antique mirror stood against the wall. Jenna's reflection stared back at her, but something was off. Her reflection seemed delayed, as if it took a moment longer to mimic her movements.

A sudden chill ran down her spine as she turned away from the mirror, only to hear a faint whisper. She spun around, her flashlight beam darting across the room. Nothing. Just the eerie silence. She tried to shrug it off, but the feeling of being watched grew stronger.

Jenna decided it was time to leave, but as she reached the top of the stairs, the door at the end of the hallway creaked open on its own. Curiosity battled with fear, and curiosity won. She walked toward the door, the temperature dropping with each step.

Inside, she found a small, dimly lit room with a single rocking chair facing the window. The chair rocked slowly, as if moved by an invisible force. Jenna's heart pounded in her chest as she approached. She reached out to stop the chair, but before she could touch it, a voice whispered in her ear, "Leave now."

She froze, her breath hitching. She turned to flee, but the door slammed shut, trapping her inside. Panic set in as she yanked at the doorknob, but it wouldn't budge. The whispers grew louder, surrounding her, filling her mind with a cacophony of voices all saying the same thing: "You shouldn't have come."

Jenna screamed, banging on the door, but her cries were swallowed by the oppressive darkness. The temperature continued to drop, her breath visible in the frigid air. The voices grew louder, more insistent, until they suddenly stopped. Silence fell, thick and suffocating.

Then, from the shadows, a figure emerged. A woman in a long, tattered dress, her eyes hollow and lifeless, glided toward Jenna. The ghostly figure raised a bony finger to her lips, silencing Jenna's screams. "You must leave," the specter whispered, her voice a cold breeze that chilled Jenna to the bone. "He is coming."

The door flew open, and Jenna didn't hesitate. She bolted down the stairs, her flashlight flickering wildly. The manor seemed to come alive, the walls groaning and closing in on her. She burst through the front door, not daring to look back, and fled down the hill, the whispers still echoing in her ears.

Jenna never spoke of her experience to anyone. She left Ravenswood the next day, the memory of the forgotten manor haunting her dreams. The townsfolk noticed the change, the way she looked over her shoulder, the fear in her eyes. They knew the manor had claimed another soul.

Years later, the manor still stood, a dark silhouette on the hill. Newcomers would come, curious about the old house, but the townsfolk would warn them. "The manor is not just an old house," they'd say. "It's alive, and it remembers everyone who dares to enter."