The rain hammered down on the cracked windows of DaMira Mansion like a relentless warning from the heavens. The sky wept in heavy sheets, and thunder growled above the skeletal trees surrounding the estate. Rhea Fernandes stood before the rusted iron gate, her jacket soaked, her fingers trembling as she reached out. The old hinges groaned with a sound like an injured animal, loud and mournful, as if the house itself was protesting her arrival.
Dark clouds swallowed the last dying rays of the sun, plunging the world into a gray-blue twilight. Rhea swallowed hard, bracing herself, then stepped through the gate. Her boots crunched over the broken stone path, slick with moss and decay. Each step echoed unnaturally, the sound swallowed and thrown back by the vast emptiness of the mansion ahead.
Her phone camera was already rolling.
"Urban Unseen, Episode Twelve," she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm here at DaMira Mansion—the abandoned house no one dares enter. They say it's cursed, haunted by something… or someone."
The stone steps leading up to the entrance were cracked and uneven. Ivy had crept up the walls like veins on a dying body. The heavy front door stood half open, creaking softly in the wind. As she stepped inside, a cold gust swept through the foyer, making her shiver. The temperature dropped so quickly her breath turned to mist.
The smell hit her then—damp wood, mildew, and something metallic, like old blood. It made her stomach twist.
Her flashlight flickered as she stepped onto the warped wooden floor. Shadows danced across peeling wallpaper, the shapes shifting like they were trying to crawl away. The grand staircase ahead was rotting and sagging, its steps bowed like an old man's spine. Above, a slow creaking noise echoed, hollow and ghostly.
Rhea paused. "Just the house settling," she muttered under her breath, though her heart hammered louder with every second.
Then she saw it.
At the end of a long, narrow hallway, a red door stood out like a wound. Thick, rusted chains crossed over it, bolted shut with a large iron padlock. Above it hung a crucifix—broken and nailed upside down. Her camera zoomed in, capturing every eerie detail. Carved deep into the wood in jagged, angry letters were the words:
DO NOT ENTER — SHE IS STILL HERE.
Rhea's mouth went dry. A chill crept down her spine like a hand pressing against her skin. "Who's she?" she whispered.
Suddenly, the temperature plunged even further. Her breath quickened, and the light dimmed again. The chains rattled—softly at first, then louder, moving as if pulled by something invisible.
Then she heard it.
Knock… knock… knock.
Three slow, deliberate knocks from behind the red door.
Her heart skipped a beat. Before she could react, a voice slithered through the silence—soft, barely audible, but unmistakably real.
"Open the door, Rhea."
She spun around, panic tightening her chest. No one was there. The hallway was empty. No footsteps. No movement. Just the sound of a ticking clock somewhere deep inside the mansion—slow and menacing, like it was counting down.
The chains rattled again.
The red door creaked—just a fraction. It was enough.
Rhea's instincts screamed for her to run, to get out while she still could.
But something stronger pulled her deeper.
Not bravery.
Not foolishness.
Curiosity.
Desperation.
She turned and dashed into the shadows, searching for a place to hide, heart in her throat, the sound of chains behind her growing louder.
And just before she vanished into the dark…
The voice returned.
"Finally."
_________To be continued…