There was once a young woman named Ava who lived in a small town. She was reserved and often kept to herself, but she had a secret passion for singing. When it rained, she would go outside and sing at the top of her lungs, letting the rain wash away...
In the heart of a dense, forgotten forest stood Blackwood Manor, a grand but decaying relic of a bygone era. The locals whispered of its curse, a tale older than the trees themselves. No one dared approach after dusk, for it was said that the house held secrets too dark for the living to comprehend.
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Eleanor Grey, a woman of thirty years, had recently inherited the manor from a distant relative she had never met. She was drawn to the place by a sense of duty, but also by a morbid curiosity. Her life had been one of solitude, marked by a lingering sadness she could never quite shake. She arrived at Blackwood Manor on a cold, moonless night, her heart heavy with the weight of an invisible burden.
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The manor loomed before her, its once-majestic walls now covered in ivy and rot. The windows were like hollow eyes, staring out into the endless darkness. As she stepped inside, the air grew thick, almost suffocating. The floorboards creaked under her feet, as if the house itself was groaning in pain.
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She explored the vast, empty rooms, each more desolate than the last. Dust coated every surface, and the faint scent of decay lingered in the air. In the grand hall, a portrait caught her eye-a painting of a young woman, eerily similar to Eleanor. Her eyes were hollow, her expression one of sorrow and despair.
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In next this is carry on.....
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