DARKNESS OF HEAVEN: CURSED OF THE WHITE LADY

TOUCH OF REALITY

Thirty-Five Years later...

The full moon looms over the small town of Zapatera,casting an ethereal glow upon the land. The night is shrouded in athick blanket of fog, which drifts through the streets, creating aneerie ambiance. In the heart of the town stands the imposing ZapateraCharlotte Mansion, its once majestic facade now weathered and worn bytime.

The mansion's windows are adorned with tatteredcurtains that sway gently in the chilly breeze. It is at one of thesewindows that the White Lady, a female ghost in a wedding dress, makesher spectral appearance. The ghost's gown, once pristine white, nowcarries the ethereal glow of the moon, lending an otherworldly aurato her figure.

The hem of her dress trails along the floor as sheglides back and forth on the mansion's balcony, her ghostly formseemingly weightless. As the night wears on, an automobile rumbles toa halt outside the mansion. The headlights slice through the fog,casting eerie shadows that dance upon the walls.

Two figures step out of the vehicle, their attiredisplaying the words "PHANTOM BUSTERS" on theirT-shirts. They are Matt and Grace, a couple of daring ghost huntersdressed in matching outfits. Matt, a tall and sturdy young man withan adventurous spirit, adjusts his cap nervously, his eyes fixed uponthe foreboding mansion.

Grace, a confident and spirited woman, stands byhis side, her heart filled with excitement and a thirst for theunknown. The couple exchanges a determined glance, acknowledging theweight of their chosen path.

With a mixture of trepidation and anticipation,they approach the looming mansion, their footsteps muffled by themisty ground. Matt clutches his camera tightly, ready to capture anyparanormal evidence that may reveal itself.

Grace's eyes shimmer with a combination ofcuriosity and bravery as they reach the front of the mansion. "Well,this is the place," Grace says with a hint of anxiety.

The air around them feels heavy, as if the verywalls of the old household are whispering a thousand untold stories.Matt's gaze flickers to the left window, where he catches a glimpseof the White Lady, her ethereal form a captivating sight.

He rubs his eyes in disbelief, trying to grasp thereality of what he just witnessed. "Did you see that, Grace?"Matt asks, his voice tinged with concern.

Grace looks toward the window, but to her dismay,the apparition has vanished, leaving no trace of its presence. "Seewhat?" she asks, a hint of skepticism in her voice. "Awoman in a wedding gown, she was right there," Matt says,pointing to the window where the ghostly figure had been moments ago.

Grace chuckles lightly, brushing off Matt's unease."You must be seeing things, love. It's just your imaginationplaying tricks on you," she rationalizes.

Matt's brow furrows, but he shakes off hisuneasiness, determined to prove himself. "Right, let's showthem what 'PHANTOM BUSTERS' is made of," he says, musteringup his courage.

As Matt and Grace ascend the creaky porch steps,the weight of history seems to settle upon their shoulders. Thewooden planks groan under their feet, as if echoing the countlessfootsteps that have passed before them.

The fog envelops them, wrapping around their bodieslike a spectral embrace. Grace's grip on Matt's hand tightens, hertouch serving as a reassuring anchor amidst the encroaching darkness.Her eyes, still filled with anticipation, scan the facade of themansion, tracing the intricate details of its once-grandarchitecture, now faded and worn.

The front door, weathered and cracked, standsbefore them like a portal into the unknown. As they reach out totouch the cold, worn brass handle, a sense of trepidation mixes withtheir eagerness. The door swings open with a haunting creak,revealing a dimly lit foyer that echoes with whispers of forgottensecrets. "Would you look at this place?" Matt says with ahint of fear in his voice.