Part 1: The Arrival

Hello, dear readers,

                                                      Gather around and let me tell you a tale of terror, a story that has haunted the corridors of Blackwood Manor for generations. This is a story of fear, mystery, and the supernatural. It begins with a young couple, Rohan and Priya, who were looking for a fresh start away from the bustling city life.

Rohan and Priya had been married for five years. Rohan was an aspiring writer, and Priya was a painter. They were both tired of their small apartment in the city, the noise, and the constant rush. When they found a listing for a spacious old mansion in the countryside, they couldn't believe their luck. The price was unbelievably low, almost too good to be true, but they didn’t think twice. They packed their belongings and drove to their new home, eager to start their lives afresh.

Blackwood Manor stood at the end of a long, winding road. It was a massive, gothic structure, with towering spires and dark, ivy-covered walls. The house had an air of decay and abandonment, yet it held a certain charm that captivated Rohan and Priya. They arrived on a chilly autumn evening, the setting sun casting eerie shadows across the property. The old caretaker, Mr. Sharma, greeted them at the door. He was a frail, elderly man with a gaunt face and piercing blue eyes.

“Welcome to Blackwood Manor,” Mr. Sharma said in a raspy voice. “I hope you find it to your liking. There are a few things you should know about the house, though. It has a history... a dark history.”

Rohan and Priya exchanged nervous glances but dismissed Mr. Sharma’s warning as the ramblings of an old man. They were too excited about their new home to be concerned with old legends. After a brief tour of the manor, Mr. Sharma handed them the keys and left, promising to check in on them occasionally.

The first night in the manor was uneventful. Rohan and Priya explored the house, admiring the antique furniture and intricate woodwork. The mansion had a library filled with dusty old books, a grand ballroom with a crystal chandelier, and a series of bedrooms on the upper floors. There was also a basement, but the door was locked, and Mr. Sharma had not provided a key.

That night, as they lay in bed, the wind howled outside, and the old house creaked and groaned. Priya snuggled closer to Rohan, feeling a chill in the air.

“Are you cold?” Rohan asked, pulling the blankets up.

“A little,” Priya replied. “But it’s just the house settling, right?”

“Yeah, just the house,” Rohan said, trying to reassure himself as much as her.

The next morning, Priya decided to start painting in one of the upstairs rooms that had large windows and plenty of natural light. Rohan set up his writing desk in the library. They both felt inspired by the manor’s eerie beauty. However, strange things started happening that day. Priya heard soft whispers while she painted, but whenever she turned around, no one was there. Rohan felt a cold presence behind him while he wrote, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Did you hear anything strange today?” Priya asked at dinner.

“Yeah, whispers and cold drafts. 

“Do you hear that?” Priya whispered, her voice trembling.

To be continued…..