In a forgotten town, there stood an ancient house, long abandoned but never trul

In a forgotten town, there stood an ancient house, long abandoned but never truly empty. Local legend claimed the walls whispered at night, reliving the last moments of those who dared enter. One stormy evening, a curious traveler sought shelter there. The door creaked open on its own, inviting him in. Inside, the air was thick with decay, the smell of damp wood and something else—something metallic. He lit a candle, the flickering light casting twisted shadows that danced on the walls. As he moved deeper into the house, the whispers began, faint at first, then growing louder. They weren’t random; they formed words. “Leave. Before it’s too late.” Ignoring the warning, he continued, the voices now screaming in desperation. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind him. The walls began to bleed, crimson streaks seeping from the cracks. Panic surged through him as the floorboards warped, revealing a dark, bottomless pit. A cold hand grabbed his ankle, pulling him down. As he fell into the abyss, the last thing he heard was the house’s voice, no longer whispering but laughing—a cold, hollow sound. The traveler was never seen again, becoming just another whisper in the house’s walls.