The One Rule

There was only one rule: don't open the door.

As the shadows crept closer, Sarah felt a chill run down her spine. She clutched the old, worn journal to her chest, the key to unlocking the mystery that had consumed her thoughts for weeks. The moon cast an eerie glow over the abandoned mansion, its windows boarded up and ivy creeping up the walls. Taking a deep breath, Sarah pushed open the creaking door and stepped into the darkness beyond. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet, and she could hear the faint sound of whispers echoing through the hallways. With each step she took, the sense of foreboding grew stronger, but she knew she had to press on. As she reached the grand staircase, a sudden gust of wind extinguished her lantern, plunging her into complete darkness. A cold hand brushed against her own, causing her to gasp in fear. Sarah's breath caught in her throat as she stood frozen in place, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end.

A soft, guttural moan filled the air, sending shivers down Sarah's spine. She could feel a presence lurking in the darkness, a malevolent force that seemed to be watching her every move. Panic surged through her veins as she fumbled for the matches in her pocket, her hands trembling violently. The whispers grew louder, forming unintelligible words that seemed to swirl around her like a sinister chant. With shaky hands, Sarah managed to strike a match, illuminating the hallway with a flickering light. What she saw made her blood run cold - shadowy figures lined the walls, their eyes gleaming with malice in the dim light. They reached out towards her with skeletal hands, their mouths twisted into grotesque smiles.