When a group of school friends, bound together by their daily bus rides and neighboring homes, stumble upon a dark secret, their curiosity is piqued.
One of them, fascinated by the eerie tales, shares the legend of a haunted house beside her bungalo...
Veera's fingers trembled as she traced the edges of the old photograph. The image of Alice and Kanes grinned back at her, a snapshot of innocence and hope. But the moment she touched the faded paper, a rush of visions flooded her mind.
The faded image depicted Alice and Kanes, their faces radiant with joy and anticipation. But the moment Veera touched the paper, a floodgate of visions burst open, transporting her to a world of love, hope, and tragedy.
Alice, the painter, sits at her easel, surrounded by an array of vibrant colors and brushes of all shapes and sizes. Her hair is tied back in a loose bun, with a few stray strands framing her focused face. A smudge of ultramarine blue on her left cheekbone adds a touch of whimsy to her intense expression.
Kanes, her husband, lounges on a nearby couch, watching his wife work with a mixture of admiration and adoration. The soft glow of a table lamp casts a warm light on his face, illuminating the gentle smile on his lips.
The air is thick with creative energy, as if the very walls are infused with the passion and imagination of the artistic couple. Paint-splattered palettes, half-empty cups of coffee, and scattered sketches on scraps of paper add to the room's cozy chaos.
In the corner, a large window allows natural light to pour in, casting a warm glow on the space. The view outside is a blur of trees and foliage, a reminder of the natural beauty that inspires Alice's art.
As you breathe in, the scent of paints and turpentine envelops you, transporting you to a world of color and creativity, where love and art entwine.
The room is a cozy, dimly lit studio filled with the sweet, pungent aroma of oil paints, turpentine, and linseed oil. Canvases in various stages of completion adorn the walls, while others lie stacked against the floor, waiting for inspiration to strike.
"I'm so excited, Kanes," the voice of Alice rang like a bell, vibrant and full of life. "We're finally moving into Blackwood House. Our new life is starting!"
"I know, my love," Kanes replied, his gaze steady and warm as it met hers. "I've been working so hard to make a name for myself as an artist. I want to provide for you and our baby."
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Veera could almost see them standing in front of the grand, yet crumbling, Blackwood House, arms entwined. Their joy felt tangible, almost like the sun shining through the thick clouds of her own mind.
The vision shifted, the brightness dimming as Kanes' frustration began to surface. "I'll sell this painting, Alice," he declared, his voice rising with determination. "I'll make a name for myself, and we'll have a better life." Alice's brow furrowed, concern etched in her features. "Be careful, Kanes. The market is tough. Don't get discouraged."
Veera watched helplessly as Kanes departed for the market, painting in hand, only to return later, drenched and defeated. The rain hammered against the ground, a relentless drumroll to his failure.
