The heavy, oppressive silence blanketed the old plantation house as if the world outside had forgotten its existence. The air was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, clinging to the crumbling walls and warped wooden floorboards. This was the house that Evelyn had inherited from a distant uncle she'd never met—a legacy she neither wanted nor could refuse.
Evelyn stood in the grand, desolate foyer, clutching a flickering lantern. Her breath misted in the cold air, despite it being midsummer. Shadows danced on the peeling wallpaper, forming shapes that seemed to stretch and twist, beckoning her deeper into the house's decaying heart.
She hadn't come here to settle down, of course. She was here to sell it. But as she'd learned quickly, no realtor wanted to set foot inside the accursed place, and no buyer was willing to make an offer based on photographs alone. It was a house with a history, they said. A house with… hauntings.
Evelyn didn't believe in ghosts. Not really. Yet, standing in the suffocating quiet, she felt a gnawing unease, a prickling at the back of her neck that whispered: Turn around and leave.
But she didn't. She was too stubborn for that.
The first night was when the dreams began.
Evelyn had made a nest in one of the smaller bedrooms, where the walls seemed less stained by time and despair. Her sleeping bag was tucked into a corner, surrounded by books and the few personal items she'd brought for comfort.
That night, as she closed her eyes, the darkness felt alive.
In her dream, she was in the same house, but everything was pristine—gleaming chandeliers, polished wood floors, laughter echoing from unseen figures. She walked through the hallways, her feet guided by an unseen force. Doors opened for her, each revealing scenes of revelry and joy. But at the center of it all was a man she didn't recognize: tall, gaunt, his eyes as black and empty as the void.
"Welcome home," he whispered, his voice slithering into her ears like oil.
Evelyn jolted awake, drenched in sweat. Her lantern had gone out, plunging the room into complete darkness. But it wasn't the absence of light that froze her—it was the sound.
From somewhere deep within the house came a low, guttural moan.