The Silent Room

Title: The Silent Room

Subtitle: A Whisper From the Past

---

It was a stormy evening when Maria arrived at her aunt’s old house. The mansion had been abandoned for years, but when Maria received the letter from her aunt, she knew something was wrong. Her aunt, who had lived alone for as long as Maria could remember, had mysteriously stopped writing to her months ago. The letter, written in a shaky hand, simply read: "Come. The room is waiting."

Maria wasn’t sure what to expect, but the house itself gave her a sense of foreboding. The wind howled outside as rain lashed against the windows, casting eerie shadows in every corner. She stepped inside and was greeted by an unsettling silence. The air smelled of dust and decay, and the creaky wooden floorboards groaned under her every step.

“Hello?” Maria called, her voice shaking slightly.

No answer.

Her aunt’s presence was absent, and the place felt even more desolate than she remembered. The walls were lined with old portraits, their eyes seeming to follow her every move. But it was the door at the end of the hallway that caught her attention. It was always locked when she was a child—her aunt had warned her never to enter.

The door had always intrigued Maria, and now, standing before it, a strange pull urged her to open it. She reached for the cold handle, hesitated, then turned it. The door creaked open, revealing a small, dark room. The walls were bare, the air thick with a heavy, suffocating presence. A single chair sat in the center, and on the floor, a thick layer of dust had gathered, untouched by time.

A chill ran down her spine. As Maria stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind her. Panic set in. She rushed to the door, but it was locked—impossibly so.

The silence was deafening. Then, she heard it—faint at first, like a whisper coming from the corner of the room.

“Maria…”

Her heart raced. The voice was familiar, but she couldn’t place it. It called again, louder this time.

“Maria, come closer.”

Against her better judgment, Maria moved toward the voice. Her breath quickened, her pulse pounding in her ears. The whisper seemed to be coming from the chair in the center of the room. She could barely make out a figure seated there, its face obscured in shadow.

"Who are you?" Maria asked, her voice trembling.

The figure didn't answer. Instead, the chair began to rock slowly, as if moved by an unseen hand. Then, a soft, rasping laugh filled the room, chilling her to the bone.

Suddenly, the face emerged from the darkness—her aunt’s face, but twisted, pale, and gaunt, with hollow eyes staring back at her.

"Don’t you recognize me, Maria?" the voice croaked. "I’ve been waiting... for you."

Maria screamed, pounding against the door. It was no use. She had come too far. The room was no longer a place of secrets—it had become a prison, one where the whispers of the past never ceased.

The last thing Maria heard before the room fell silent was her aunt’s eerie laughter, fading into the dark.

---

I'll create the image now.