Chapter 04: The Forgotten Room
Evelyn spent the rest of the morning and into the afternoon methodically searching the house. She started in the attic, a small, cramped space filled with dust and forgotten things. The light from the narrow windows barely illuminated the space, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and writhe in the corners of her vision. She checked every box, every chest, hoping for some clue—anything that might explain what was happening to her.
But there was nothing. Only relics of a past long forgotten—old furniture covered in sheets, books yellowed with age, and broken objects that seemed to speak of a time before her. She felt a growing unease, as if the house was watching her, as if it were alive and aware of her every movement. Still, she pressed on, moving through each room with increasing urgency, her every step heavier than the last.
She ventured into the basement next. The air down there was thick, oppressive, the smell of damp earth and mildew filling her nostrils. The walls seemed to close in around her, and the only sound was the faint creaking of the old house as it shifted in the breeze.
The basement was as empty as the rest of the house—except for one thing. In the farthest corner, behind a heavy stack of crates, there was a door. It was old and weathered, the wood chipped and worn, and it stood out starkly against the cracked stone walls. Evelyn’s heart skipped a beat when she saw it. She hadn’t noticed it before. The house was vast, and she had never ventured this deep into the basement.
Curiosity stirred within her, but she felt a flicker of hesitation. There was something about the door that felt… wrong. It beckoned her, but not in a way that felt welcoming. It felt like an invitation to a dark secret—one that had been hidden away for a reason.
But Evelyn had come this far, and she couldn’t stop now. The dreams, the fog, the shadowy figure—it all had to mean something. This door might be the key to understanding everything, to unraveling the mystery that had taken hold of her life.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the door handle. The moment her fingers brushed against the cold metal, a chill shot up her spine, a sensation so intense it made her stomach churn. She hesitated for a moment, but then, with a deep breath, she turned the handle.
The door creaked open with a sound that made Evelyn’s blood run cold. Beyond it was a narrow, spiraling staircase that descended further into the darkness. The air was stale and smelled faintly of decay, and the temperature dropped sharply as she stepped inside. Her pulse quickened, but she couldn’t turn back now.
With each step down the staircase, the world above seemed to fade away, as if she were descending into another realm entirely. The walls were lined with stone, smooth and cold to the touch, and the silence was absolute. There were no creaks, no sounds of life—just the oppressive stillness of a place long forgotten.
The staircase seemed to go on forever, and as Evelyn descended, she felt an overwhelming sense of isolation. The darkness pressed in on her from all sides, and she could feel the weight of the house bearing down on her. The air grew thick, suffocating, and with each step, her mind seemed to unravel a little more, as if the house itself were pulling her deeper into its grasp.
Finally, the stairs ended in a small, dimly lit room. The light came from a single, flickering candle resting on a stone pedestal in the center of the room. The shadows cast by the candle seemed to dance on the walls, moving in unnatural patterns. Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat as her eyes scanned the room.
The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, and the walls were lined with shelves, most of them empty except for a few scattered objects—old books, a rusted lantern, and strange symbols carved into the stone. The symbols seemed to shift and change as Evelyn stared at them, and she felt a deep unease settle in her chest. There was something ancient about this room, something that felt wrong on a primal level.
But it wasn’t the symbols that held her attention. It was the large, ornate mirror hanging on the far wall.
The mirror was old, its frame carved from dark wood, its surface cracked and covered in layers of dust. But there was something about it that was… different. Something about the way the glass reflected the dim light made Evelyn’s heart race. She couldn’t look away.
As she approached it, the air seemed to grow colder, and the shadows around her deepened. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the glass. For a moment, there was nothing. Just the reflection of the dimly lit room, the flickering candle, and her own face staring back at her.
But then, something moved in the reflection.
Her heart leaped in her chest, and she stumbled back. For a moment, she thought she had imagined it. But when she looked again, the reflection was different. There, in the glass, was a figure—a shadowy shape, barely visible in the dim light, but unmistakably there. It stood behind her, silent, watching.
Evelyn spun around, her breath catching in her throat, but the room was empty. There was nothing there—no one. Her pulse raced as she turned back to the mirror. The figure was gone. But the air in the room had changed. It was thick with an energy she couldn’t explain, as if the house itself were alive, and it was watching her.
Her hand shook as she reached for the mirror again, this time pressing her palm against the cool glass. And in the reflection, she saw it—beneath the surface of the glass, a pair of glowing eyes staring back at her.
The same eyes from her nightmares.
She gasped, her mind struggling to comprehend what she was seeing. This wasn’t just a reflection. This was something else—something dark and ancient, and it was reaching out to her.
The shadows in the room seemed to shift, closing in on her. The figure in the mirror was no longer just a reflection. It was real, its presence now filling the space around her, suffocating her.
Evelyn’s breath came in short gasps as she stumbled back from the mirror, her heart hammering in her chest. The room seemed to close in on her, the walls pressing in as if they were alive, and the air was thick with the weight of something unseen, something ancient, something hungry.
And she knew, without a doubt, that the nightmare had come for her.
