The Cursed Mansion

There were almost three cursed mansions

in the morning. The village was quiet and surrounded by eerie silence. The sky was cloudy, and lightning occasionally illuminated the scenery. At the edge of the village was an old, abandoned manor house - a name that whispered out of fear among the villagers. Some people said they had a spirit of vengeance. Other stories talked about the flickering light and the sound of sobs in the night.

From the city, Arif was skeptical. He was a researcher who was examining paranormal events and searching for the logical explanation behind the ghost stories. This mansion was the perfect case study with all the rumours.

The Spukhaus After the elders of the village, the Manor House was once Zamindar Romesh Chowdhury. His only daughter, Mireillini, should be breathtakingly beautiful, but she bumps into a tragic fate. On a fateful night, Zamindar's enemies brutally murdered them.

Since then, people have believed that their spirits had travelled through the mansion and had been caught up in an endless loop of sadness and anger. I never dared to return.

Arif Mocked,

- "Ghosts are mere myths and were born out of fear."

Recorder with a flashlight, camera and recorder.

First sign of fear: The door creaks. The old moldy smell filled the air. Dust and co-necks covered the walls, and broken furniture was scattered across the floor.

Flashlight has announced a large hall. Old portraits lined up on the wall, their eyes scaring him. In particular, he attracted his attention - a young woman whose face is incredibly sad. stared at him like Arif. He turned around. There is nothing.

A strange discomfort settled over him. The air was heavy and rich, invisible but undeniable.

Events without explanations. It started with the camera turned on. After a while, the strange whispers filled his recorder - a low and incomprehensible tweet, as if someone had spoken beyond their understanding.

He played it and omitted his heart. The whispers became clearer - "Go..."

Important promotion, he climbed the old stairs.

Suddenly - Bang!

The

door closed itself.

He entered the apparent bedroom. A large mirror stood against the wall, and the glass broke in its place. Arif's reflection looked normal, but was it a moving shadow behind him?

blew into life. Slowly, he turned. There is nothing.

However, the room felt cold.

The spirit appeared on the other side of the room, with the wooden rocking chairs varied slightly, but the air still fluctuated. A shower ran over his spine.

Then - he felt it.

The presence behind him.

He slowly turned. There was a

diagram.

Long, neglected dark hair. A running white dress. Blows away the skin. Eyes - loud and filled with emptiness.

Aliphus neck is dry.

A soft whisper echoes and trembles in the air-

4 "Help me..."

Ghost or something else?

gathered his courage and asked Arif,

- "Who are you?"

The lips in his figure were barely moved,

- "My name is Mrinalini... You killed me... I need peace."

Arif's spirits competed. This mind doesn't damage this; it's captured. -"How can I help you?"

Tears shine in my eyes in the

"My body... they are still here... bury me right, and I will be free."

Arif searched the house and eventually covered the hidden cellar. Inside, there were many skeletal ruins beneath the dust and collapsed layers. The truth struck him. Mrinalini never gave its final ritual.

The air became ice as an Arif prepared to leave the final conflict

underground. The shadow moved over the wall. A deep, throaty voice groaned-

"You shouldn't come!"

Arif's blood ran coldly. This was not Mrinalini. It was different.

Malignant power, perhaps her murderer's spirit, resolved to continue the curse alive. The underground door attacked.

Arif knocked on the flicker of his flashlight. The whispers grew and swirled around him. He could barely breathe.

Then he remembered the lighter in his pocket.

With a hand reached out, he pushed it to keep it near the ruins of the skeleton.

"If they don't let me go, I'll burn them!" He cried. The whispers turned into a cured cry in my ears. The darkness has returned.

And then suddenly - the door opened.

The end of the curse. The next morning, with the help of the villagers, he arranged an appropriate funeral for Mrinalini. The Manor House was standing still tonight. No whispers. There is no flickering light. There is no scary presence.

As As Arif, it was the biggest until the end.

=There was a weak person on the veranda.

It was Mrinalini.

But this time, she smiled. A soft breeze carried a gentle voice-

"Thank you..."

And she disappeared in the night.

The villa is finally in peace.