As I cautiously approached the old, dilapidated house, I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck standing up in anticipation. The windows were boarded up, but a few shards of glass peeked through the cracks, giving the eerie impression of eyes watching my every move. The porch creaked ominously under my weight as I stepped closer, the sound echoing through the empty halls.
Once inside, the air was thick with dust and the faint scent of decay. Shadows danced along the walls, created by the flickering light of my flashlight. I could hear whispers in the distance, sending a shiver down my spine. The floorboards moaned as I made my way further into the house, my heart pounding in my chest.
Suddenly, a cold breeze swept through the room, extinguishing my light. Panic set in as I fumbled to relight it, only to find myself face to face with a ghostly figure standing before me. Its hollow eyes bore into mine, sending me fleeing out of the house in terror.
I never returned to that haunted house, but the memory of that night still haunts me to this day.
Image by IMM2000 from Flickr.
