The Whispering House

The abandoned house at the edge of town was a decaying relic, its paint stripped by years of neglect. Ivy crawled up its sides, overtaking broken windows and sagging gutters. The front porch had collapsed, leaving splintered wood jutting out like fractured bones. Inside, darkness pooled in the corners, and a damp, musty smell clung to the air. What was once a grand Victorian home had become a place of whispers and shadows, an eerie presence that made you want to turn away-even as it beckoned you closer.