The Writer of Fear

The walls of the old deserted house seemed to breathe in the shadows. The author of the creepy stuff came hoping to find some ideas for his next book, but he quickly realized that the tranquility was filled with a faint whisper, as the walls shared old secrets, and every step he took resonated with a sound that wasn't his own

Suddenly, the light of his flashlight went out a shadow crawled right in front of his eyes, super close and totally real the cold crawled down his spine when he heard a crackling sound from the top floor, like someone or something slowly moving towards him The air had a damp smell with a hint of metal, Like wet blood

Fear froze him in his tracks as a broken voice called to him in the shadows, someone's voice called to him, and it felt as if it came from inside his head.

The flashlight turned back on, casting a strange face in the reflection of the shattered mirror. realizing that he was not alone and the house had been eagerly awaiting his arrival