The Haunting of Hollow Manor Short Story

She had inherited the manor from a distant relative she had never met. It was said that no one had lived there for years.

With trembling hands, she pushed open the gate and walked slowly toward the house. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the silence pressed against her ears.

As she entered the grand hall, a shiver ran down her spine. The place felt alive, as if the walls were watching her.

Suddenly, a soft whisper echoed through the empty rooms. “Eleanor…” The voice was faint but clear, like a breath against her ear.

She spun around, but there was no one there. The air grew colder, and the flickering candle she had lit cast long shadows on the walls.

She continued to explore, her heart pounding in her chest. The further she went, the stronger the sense that she was not alone.

In the old library, books lined the shelves, their covers cracked and faded. As Eleanor picked one up, a picture slipped out.

It was a portrait of a woman who looked strangely like her. The woman’s eyes seemed to follow her, filled with sadness.

The whisper came again, louder this time. “Eleanor… you must leave…”

Eleanor turned and ran down the dark hallway, but the door she had entered through had vanished. The walls seemed to close in, trapping her inside. Panic gripped her, and she called out, “Who are you?”

The answer came, not from a voice, but from the shadows themselves. The figure of a woman, pale and ghostly, stepped from the darkness. Her eyes were hollow, filled with endless sorrow.

“I am the one who once lived here,” the spirit whispered, her voice a cold, mournful echo. “You have awakened the curse of Hollow Manor.”

Eleanor stumbled back, heart racing. The spirit reached out, her cold fingers grazing Eleanor’s skin. “You are the last. The curse will not let you go.”

As the spirit’s touch chilled her to the bone, Eleanor’s vision blurred. She felt the weight of the curse settle over her, and in that moment, the manor claimed her soul, just as it had claimed so many before her.

The whisper faded, and the house fell silent once more.

From that night on, Hollow Manor stood as it always had—dark, empty, and waiting for the next soul to wander too close.