*The Death Room*

**The Death Room**

The old mansion on Hillcrest Lane had stood abandoned for decades, its crumbling facade a warning to the curious. Locals whispered about the Death Room, a cursed chamber hidden within its walls. They said anyone who entered would die exactly 24 hours later. No one had ever returned to prove the legend wrong—until now.

---

Emma Carter was a journalist with a knack for uncovering the truth. She had spent years debunking urban legends, but the Death Room intrigued her like nothing else. The stories were too consistent, too detailed to ignore. Armed with her camera, a notebook, and a healthy dose of skepticism, she arrived at the mansion on a cold, gray afternoon.

The front door groaned as she pushed it open, revealing a grand foyer shrouded in dust and shadows. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the floorboards creaked under her weight. Emma’s flashlight cut through the darkness, revealing peeling wallpaper, broken furniture, and a staircase that seemed to lead into oblivion.

According to the legends, the Death Room was on the second floor, at the end of a long hallway. Emma climbed the stairs, her heart pounding with a mix of excitement and dread. The hallway was lined with doors, all closed except one. Light spilled from the doorway, though there were no windows or electricity in the house.

Emma hesitated. This had to be a trick of the mind, a reflection of her flashlight. But as she stepped closer, the light grew brighter, almost inviting. She peered inside and gasped.

The room was unlike anything she had ever seen. The walls were covered in intricate carvings—symbols that seemed to shift and writhe under her gaze. In the center of the room stood an ornate mirror, its frame adorned with twisted figures that looked almost alive. The air was cold, and a faint hum filled the space, vibrating in her bones.

Emma stepped inside, her camera clicking as she documented every detail. The door slammed shut behind her, and the hum grew louder, almost deafening. She turned to leave, but the door was gone, replaced by a solid wall. Panic surged through her as she realized she was trapped.

The mirror’s surface began to ripple like water, and a face emerged—a grotesque, skeletal visage with hollow eyes and a lipless grin. It spoke in a voice that echoed in her mind.

*“You have 24 hours.” *

---

Emma woke up in her bed, drenched in sweat. The room was dark, and the clock on her nightstand read 3:00 a.m. She sat up, her heart racing. Had it all been a dream?

But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she noticed something on her wrist—a faint, glowing symbol that matched one of the carvings in the Death Room. She tried to rub it off, but it was etched into her skin.

The next 24 hours were a nightmare. Shadows moved on their own, whispers filled the silence, and her reflection in the mirror no longer matched her movements. She tried to leave her apartment, but every door led back to the same hallway, the same room.

As the hours ticked by, Emma grew desperate. She researched the symbols, reaching out to experts in the occult. One name kept coming up: Dr. Nathaniel Graves, a historian who had studied the mansion decades ago. She found his number and called, her hands trembling.

“The Death Room,” Dr. Graves said, his voice grave. “It’s a gateway, a prison for something ancient and malevolent. The mirror is its anchor. To break the curse, you must destroy it.”

“But how?” Emma asked. “I can’t even find the room anymore.”

“It’s not about finding the room,” Dr. Graves replied. “It’s about confronting what’s inside you. The curse feeds on fear. Face it, and you might have a chance.”

---

With only minutes to spare, Emma returned to the mansion. The Death Room was waiting for her, the mirror’s surface swirling with dark energy. She stepped inside, her heart pounding.

The skeletal face appeared again, its grin widening. *“Your time is up.” *

“No,” Emma said, her voice steady. “You don’t control me.”

She grabbed a shard of broken wood from the floor and slammed it into the mirror. The glass shattered, and a deafening scream filled the room. The walls began to collapse, and the symbols glowed brighter and brighter until everything went white.

---

Emma woke up on the mansion’s front lawn, the sun rising in the distance. The symbol on her wrist was gone, and the mansion was nothing but a pile of rubble.

But as she walked away, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was still watching her. In the corner of her eye, she saw a flicker of movement—a shadowy figure, its hollow eyes following her every step.

The Death Room was gone, but its curse lived on.