Elara froze when she heard the creaking sound behind her.
Her fingers tightened around her camera. She slowly turned around, expecting to see a broken window moving in the wind or maybe a loose floorboard shifting.
But the corridor was empty.
Completely empty.
The long hallway stretched behind her, silent and still. The air suddenly felt colder, making goosebumps rise on her arms.
She forced herself to breathe normally.
"Old houses make noises," she whispered softly, trying to calm herself. "That's normal."
Still, her heart was beating faster than before.
Elara stepped back from the strange wall and quickly took another photo, just to be sure. This time, the camera screen showed nothing unusual. Just cracked wallpaper and faded paint.
"No door…" she murmured, confused.
She touched the wall again. It felt hard and flat, like any normal wall. For a moment, she wondered if her mind had played a trick on her because of the dim light.
She stepped away and decided to continue exploring the mansion. The silence followed her like a shadow.
As she walked toward the main hall, she noticed something strange. The dust she had disturbed earlier was gone, as if someone had cleaned the floor after she passed.
She stopped walking.
"That's… weird," she said under her breath.
Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling, she moved outside to get some fresh air. The sky had turned grey, and the fog around the mansion looked thicker now.
Near the broken iron gate, she saw an old man sitting on a stone bench. He was wrapped in a dark shawl and holding a wooden walking stick. His eyes were fixed on the mansion, not moving at all.
Elara walked toward him carefully.
"Hello," she said politely. "Do you live nearby?"
The old man slowly turned his head toward her. His eyes looked tired… and frightened.
"You went inside," he said quietly.
It wasn't a question.
Elara nodded. "Yes. I'm documenting the building before it gets demolished."
The man's grip tightened around his walking stick.
"Did you see the corridor?" he asked.
Elara felt a small chill run through her body. "Which corridor?"
"The one that should not be there."
Her throat went dry. She hesitated before answering. "I… saw a longer hallway than the blueprint shows."
The old man closed his eyes for a moment, like he was remembering something painful.
"You must leave before midnight," he said firmly.
"Why?" Elara asked quickly. "What happens at midnight?"
The man shook his head. "The house remembers more at night."
Elara frowned, thinking she misunderstood him. "Remembers what?"
"People," he replied.
Silence stretched between them. The fog moved slowly across the ground, wrapping around the mansion walls like creeping fingers.
Elara sat beside him, curiosity growing stronger than her fear.
"Has someone been hurt there?" she asked softly.
The old man stared at the mansion again. His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"Seventy years ago, twelve people entered that corridor," he said. "None of them came back."
Elara felt her stomach twist.
"Were their bodies found?" she asked.
The man shook his head slowly.
"No bodies," he said. "No bones. No graves. Only memories… that no one in this town wants to talk about."
A sudden loud bang echoed from inside the mansion.
Both of them jumped.
Elara turned toward the building. One of the upper windows had slammed shut on its own.
When she looked back at the old man, he was staring directly at her now, his face pale.
"Listen carefully," he said, his voice shaking. "If you hear your own voice calling you from inside the house…"
He paused.
"Do not answer."