- Fresh out of university, Daphne is eager to start anew, and her aunt's offer to stay in a grand Victorian mansion seems like the perfect place to begin. But the manor, with its dark history and unsettling secrets, is far from the peaceful haven sh...
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TIME FOR A DRINK.
The next morning had dawned quietly, a grayish hue spilling through the lace curtains, casting a pallid light across the house.
Daphne sat in the kitchen as she had the two days before, cradling her cup of coffee, her eyes lingering on Brahms, who sat as ever in his usual place. A sense of routine had settled over her, but it was a routine tinged with unease.
The doll remained eerily compliant, though Daphne couldn't shake the feeling that it was always watching, always aware of her every move.
For the past day, she had done her best to adhere to the list of rules, despite how absurd they felt.
She read to Brahms, albeit in a voice heavy with irony, and kissed his cold porcelain cheek at night, shivering at the unnatural chill that lingered on her lips. She even tried to remember to keep him close, but her mind occasionally wandered, her attention slipping.
It was during those moments of forgetfulness that the house seemed to come alive, creaking and groaning as if in protest.
The footsteps had returned, the bumps in the night, subtle but insistent, as if someone was reminding her that she was not alone.
Despite her best efforts, Daphne couldn't help but be fascinated by the strange happenings.
The supernatural had always been a subject of distant curiosity for her, something to be read about or watched in movies, not experienced firsthand. Yet here she was, living in a decaying mansion with a doll that seemed to demand her attention in increasingly peculiar ways.
The logic she had clung to was slowly eroding, replaced by a growing sense of intrigue. It was unnerving, but also strangely captivating.
Still, the oppressive atmosphere of the mansion had begun to wear on her, the silence weighing heavily on her spirit. The rooms were too quiet, the air too thick with secrets.
She needed a break, a breath of fresh air that wasn't steeped in paranormal activity. The village, she remembered, was only a short walk away, a quaint little place she hadn't yet explored.
The thought of bustling streets, the sounds of life, and the sight of other people was enough to rouse her from her seat.
Daphne set her cup down and rose, glancing once more at Brahms. "I'll be back soon." She said, half-expecting some sort of response.
But the doll remained still, its painted eyes fixed on the wall. She shrugged off the discomfort, grabbed her coat, and made her way out the door.
The walk to the village was bracing, the cool morning air filling her lungs, chasing away the lingering unease.
The road ahead of her wound through a small wood, the trees whispering as the wind rustled their leaves. Daphne let her mind wander, trying to shake off the remnants of her strange new reality.
