The Curse of Ravenwood Manor
The town of Ravenshire had one place no one dared to enter—Ravenwood Manor, an abandoned house that stood lifeless for 300 years. Legends spoke of cursed souls trapped within, of shadows that moved when no one was watching.
One fateful night, three friends—Ram, Georgie, and Payal—were returning from a late-night festival. The fog had rolled in thick, swallowing the streets. Ram, always the fearless one, suggested a shortcut through the old forest.
"Are you sure about this?" Payal asked nervously.
"Relax," Ram smirked. "It’s just a few minutes faster."
They walked cautiously, the forest silent except for their footsteps. But as they turned a corner, a cold wind rushed past, and suddenly, they found themselves standing in front of Ravenwood Manor.
"Impossible…" Georgie whispered. "We weren’t even near this place."
Before they could react, the massive iron gate creaked open by itself. A force, unseen but powerful, dragged them inside. The gate slammed shut behind them.
Inside, the air was damp, the walls covered in rotting wallpaper. Candles flickered, lighting up a long, dark hallway. A whisper echoed through the air—"Welcome… you can never leave."
Payal grabbed Ram’s arm. "We need to go!"
They turned, but the door had vanished—only an endless hallway stretched behind them. Then came the footsteps, slow and heavy. A shadow moved at the end of the hall—a woman in a tattered black gown, her hollow eyes locked onto them.
The walls began to bleed, and long, bony fingers crawled from the floorboards. Georgie screamed as something grabbed his leg, trying to pull him under. Ram kicked at the hand, freeing him, but the spirit let out a shrill scream, shaking the entire house.
They ran up a staircase, breathless, but the house seemed to shift—rooms twisted, doors led nowhere. They found a dusty library, where an old book lay open. It spoke of a curse placed by a witch, whose soul was bound to the house. The only escape was through fire.
"Burn it," Ram gasped, wincing from a deep scratch on his chest, where a spectral claw had torn into him.
Georgie grabbed an oil lamp and shattered it against the wooden shelves. Flames roared to life. The spirit screeched in agony, her form melting into shadows.
But the fire spread too fast—smoke choked their lungs. Ram, his wound bleeding heavily, collapsed. "Go…" he gasped.
"No way!" Payal and Georgie grabbed him, dragging him toward a tall window. With no time to think, they jumped.
They crashed into the overgrown grass outside, coughing as Ravenwood Manor went up in flames. The house screamed, twisting and writhing as if alive—until, finally, it collapsed into ash.
Ram was badly injured, his wound deep, but he was alive. As Payal wrapped his wound, Georgie turned back to the ruins.
In the smoky remains, two glowing eyes peered from the darkness.
A whisper drifted through the wind—"This isn’t over…"
