As the full moon hung low in the ink-black sky, I found myself alone on a desolate country road. The flickering light of a broken streetlamp was my only companion, casting eerie shadows that danced with the rustling leaves. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, the chill in the air seeping into my bones, while the feeling of dread grew stronger with each passing mile.
I had been driving for hours, chasing a destination known only to me. The radio crackled with static, filling the silence with haunting whispers. In the distance, a dilapidated, long-abandoned farmhouse loomed. Its shattered windows stared out at me like the empty eye sockets of a ghostly specter.
With an inexplicable compulsion, I parked the car and ventured inside the decaying house. Creaking floorboards echoed with each step, as if the house itself were sighing with the weight of its dark secrets. The walls were adorned with faded, peeling wallpaper, revealing glimpses of past lives forgotten by time.
I ascended a rickety staircase, my heart pounding, leading me to a room at the end of the corridor. The room was bathed in an eerie, pale moonlight. A tattered old book lay open on a dusty table, its pages filled with cryptic symbols and ominous illustrations.
As I stared at the book, I felt a presence behind me. I turned slowly, my eyes meeting a reflection of terror in a cracked, age-worn mirror. It wasn’t my own reflection; it was a figure, gaunt and ghastly, lurking in the shadows.
A voice, like a frigid whisper, sent shivers down my spine. “You should never have come here.”
I tried to flee, but my legs refused to move. The figure in the mirror stepped closer, its outstretched hand reaching for me. Panic seized me, and I closed my eyes, praying this was all just a nightmare.
When I opened them, I was back in my car, parked on the same desolate road. The moon hung low in the sky, and the streetlamp still flickered. But the feeling of dread had intensified, a heavy weight pressing on my chest.
I continued to drive, desperate to escape the nightmare that had ensnared me. But the road seemed to stretch endlessly, leading me in circles, and the night refused to release its grip. With each turn, the same farmhouse appeared, like a curse that I couldn’t break.
I knew then that I was trapped in a never-ending loop, a macabre reality where time had no meaning. The same fear, the same terror, the same ghostly figure awaited me each time I reached that forsaken place.
I am writing this now, with trembling hands, as I sit alone in my car. The moon remains low in the sky, and the streetlamp still flickers. I am caught in this nightmare, reliving the same horrors over and over, and there is no escape. If you ever find yourself on that desolate road, remember my warning, and turn back before it’s too late.