The Cursed Road

1

It was almost midnight. The surroundings were very quiet, except for the occasional chirp on the grill. Young journalist Rifat took a lonely bike ride to a mysterious place known as the "cursed street."

In the legend, everyone who traveled this road at night could disappear or experience something terrible. Some claimed they had seen a ghostly white figure standing in the middle of the street and disappeared the moment they saw them. Others believed that invisible forces were lurking in the shadows, moving people into dense forests.

Rifat did not believe in such superstitions. Determined to reveal the truth, he had decided to travel this road at night to see it himself.

2

Motorcycle headlights cut through the darkness when you ride ahead. The trees on either side of the street fluctuated gently with the wind, swirling scary tints that seemed to move themselves.

Suddenly, the motorcycle engine thrusts out a huge sputter and dies. rifat raised an eyebrow. The street has been abandoned. The only one was a moss-covered tree, twisted branches that turned like skeleton fingers towards the sky.

A whisper came out of the darkness as he bent to inspect the bike:

"Back back... you're still!"

Rifat Frozen. His heart beating. He lit the flashlight towards his voice. There is nothing. Just the empty road.

3

A cold ran down his back, but he shook it. He decided not to waste his time, placing his bike behind him and on foot he headed over to Serra's flashlight.

A few minutes later he discovered an old abandoned house on the side of the road. The windows were broken, the doors were hanging, and I squealed slightly in the wind.

A strange feeling crept into Rifat's chest.

As he stared at the house, he suddenly heard a voice behind him and whispered his name: He hadn't told anyone who came here to anyone.

In

, who called his name?

4

, gathered all his courage, he turned. 444 444 There was no one there. Only a swirling mist covers the streets.

accelerated his breath. Something was definitely wrong in this place.

He returned home and froze.

A white figure stood on the door, his face covered in shadows. It moved slowly towards him.

Rifat wanted to run, but his legs didn't move. His appearance approached, and he entered the weak light. It was a woman. Her hollow black eyes were carried to him, and her mouth stretched unnaturally, as if she were implicitly screaming. Then he spoke in a ho-voiced whisper: No one can come here..."

5

The air around him became difficult. The fog thickened, and suddenly, he was no longer in the sky. Awful scene unfolding in front of him - the legions were scattered on the ground, some hanging from trees, and with invisible hands drawn into the darkness.

Awful knowledge hit him. This was not the norm. This was a cemetery of lost souls caught in eternal pain.

The whispers of a woman have returned, this time more urgent:

4 "Run! If you stay, you will never go!"

His body finally responded. Rifat turned around and ran every ounce.

Behind him is a repeated eerie laugh throughout the night, mixed with the gentle marble of screams of suffering and the voice of ghosts:

"No one... no one..."

suddenly flashed the streetlights, the mist went out, and the air became quiet. He went round in breath.

The road was empty. The house is gone.

Did he imagine everything?

The next morning he shared his experiences with the village elders. Before he said the old man listened quietly:

"You are lucky to have regained it. Many aren't.