Shayla’s voice was a tightrope, stretched thin and trembling. “Anthony, please. Don’t go to Amber House.”
Anthony, his back already halfway turned, paused. The setting sun cast long, dramatic shadows across his face, highlighting the stubborn set of his jaw. He was dressed in dark jeans and a weathered leather jacket, ready for a night neither of them wanted.
“Shayla, we’ve been over this. It’s my job. Somebody has to do it.” He tried to sound reasonable, but the fear in Shayla’s eyes eroded his resolve.
Amber House. Just the name dripped with dread. Old Man Abernathy’s dilapidated mansion, rumored to be a vortex of bad luck and whispers of restless spirits. The kind of place that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end just by looking at it.
Anthony worked for a historical preservation society. Their task was to catalogue and document abandoned or decaying buildings before they were torn down. Amber House topped their list, not because of its historical significance, but because the new owners wanted it gone fast, claiming it was a blight on the neighborhood.
“But…the stories, Anthony,” Shayla pleaded, taking a step closer. Her fingers, cold and trembling, reached for his arm. “People have disappeared around there. There’s been talk…of something drawing them in.”
He gently pried her hand away, his heart aching. He knew the stories, the local legends woven into the fabric of their small town. Tales of Old Man Abernathy’s obsessive experiments, his descent into madness, and the tragic death of his young wife within the house’s walls.
“Those are just stories, Shayla,” he said, trying to sound confident. “Old wives’ tales meant to scare kids. I’ll be careful. I promise. I’ll just do a quick assessment and get out.”
“It’s not just stories,” she insisted, her voice rising in desperation. “I feel it, Anthony. Whenever you talk about Amber House, I get this…this feeling of dread. Like something is waiting there, something hungry.”
He hated seeing her like this, so vulnerable and scared. He wanted to stay, to wrap her in his arms and tell her everything would be okay. But he couldn’t. This was his job, his responsibility.
“Shayla, look at me,” he said, cupping her face in his hands. His thumbs brushed away the single tear that escaped her eye. “I’m not going to let anything happen to me. I’ll be in and out before you know it. I’ll call you as soon as I’m done.”
He leaned down and kissed her, a long, lingering kiss that tasted of goodbye. He pulled away, his expression resolute.
“I have to go.”
He turned and walked towards his truck, leaving Shayla standing on the porch, her silhouette framed by the fading light. He could feel her gaze burning into his back, a silent plea.
As he drove, the sky deepened into a bruised purple. The air grew thick and heavy, charged with an unsettling energy. He tried to rationalize Shayla’s fear, attributing it to superstition and local folklore. But deep down, a nagging doubt gnawed at him.
He arrived at Amber House just as darkness 완전히 enveloped the landscape. The mansion loomed before him, a gothic monstrosity of decaying wood and crumbling stone. The windows were dark and empty, like vacant eyes staring out at him.
He took a deep breath and switched on his flashlight. The beam cut through the oppressive darkness, revealing overgrown weeds choking the driveway and a rusty, creaking gate.
He unlocked the gate and drove onto the property, the tires crunching on gravel. As he parked in front of the house, a sudden gust of wind swept through the trees, causing them to moan and groan like tortured souls.
He killed the engine and sat there for a moment, hesitating. The silence was deafening, broken only by the rustling leaves and the frantic beating of his own heart.
He thought of Shayla, her face etched with worry. He thought of the stories, the legends, the whispers.
For the first time, Anthony wondered if he was making a mistake.
Then, he took another deep breath, grabbed his bag, and stepped out of the truck. He had a job to do. He would be quick, he told himself, in and out.
But as he walked towards the imposing front door of Amber House, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him, waiting for him. Something ancient, something hungry, something that wanted him to stay. And despite his best efforts, a shiver ran down his spine, and the fear he had tried to ignore finally took hold. He knew, with a chilling certainty, that Shayla was right. He shouldn’t have come to Amber House.