Last night

The wind howled through the trees, carrying with it an eerie sense of foreboding. The night was pitch black, the moon hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. In the heart of a desolate town stood an old, decrepit house, its windows shattered and doors creaking with every gust of wind. It was said that the house was cursed, haunted by the souls of those who had met a gruesome fate within its walls.

A group of curious teenagers, drawn to the rumors and the thrill of the unknown, decided to venture into the house. They were well aware of the stories that had circulated for decades, tales of mysterious disappearances and strange occurrences that had plagued anyone who dared to enter. But their youthful curiosity got the better of them, and they couldn't resist the temptation to explore the house on that fateful night.

The group cautiously stepped over the threshold, their hearts pounding in their chests. The air inside was stale, heavy with the scent of decay. The floorboards groaned beneath their feet as they ventured further into the darkness. The sound of their own breathing seemed amplified, echoing off the walls and sending shivers down their spines.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, freezing them in their tracks. They turned to see one of their own, Sarah, pointing a trembling finger at a figure in the corner of the room. It was a man, dressed in tattered clothes, his eyes empty and hollow. Without warning, he lunged at them, his teeth bared in a grotesque grin.

Panic engulfed the group as they scrambled to escape the clutches of the deranged man. They ran through the maze-like corridors, their footsteps echoing in a mad symphony of terror. Doors slammed shut behind them, trapping them in a never-ending nightmare. The walls seemed to close in, pressing against them, as if the house itself wanted to consume them whole.

One by one, the teenagers fell prey to the malevolent spirits that dwelled within. Whispers echoed through the halls, their voices a haunting melody that whispered tales of their impending doom. Shadows danced along the walls, taunting and tormenting the remaining survivors.

Amidst the chaos and despair, only two remained: Emily and Mark. They found themselves trapped in a small room, the walls adorned with decaying portraits of long-forgotten faces. The air grew heavy, suffocating their every breath. Desperation etched itself onto their faces as they realized the gravity of their situation.

In a last-ditch effort to escape, Emily and Mark began searching for a way out. They tore through the room, desperately looking for a hidden passage or a key that could set them free. But their efforts were in vain. The house seemed to revel in their fear, its dark presence looming over them.

As the night wore on, the spirits closed in on Emily and Mark. They could feel icy fingers grazing their skin, whispers filling their ears. The spirits hungered for their souls, ready to claim them as their own. Tears streamed down their faces as they huddled together, clinging to each other in a futile attempt to find solace.

With each passing moment, the darkness enveloped them, suffocating their very beings. And in their final moments, as the last remnants of hope dwindled away, Emily and Mark embraced, their terrified cries mingling with the haunting echoes of the house.

And so, the old house stood, a silent witness to the horrors that had unfolded within its walls. Its secrets would forever remain buried, its curse condemning any who dared to enter. The whispers of the lost souls would forever echo in the minds of those who survived, a reminder of the night the house claimed its final victims