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After discovering that forbidden album, my life was plunged into a spiral of fears and unanswered questions.
Photographs of sinister rituals and disfigured people haunted me even in my dreams. What dark secrets did my family hide?
Unable to ignore my growing paranoia, I confronted my mother again. This time, her countenance paled and a tear rolled down her cheek.
In a shaky whisper, she confessed to me that years ago, when I was a child, my grandfather had become involved with a cult of dark arts practitioners.
Meetings were held in our own living room, explaining the disturbing picture of ritual.
My mother burst into tears, telling me that my grandfather had sacrificed an innocent man in one of these sordid ‘acts’.
Horrified, I realised that the atrocious images of the mutilated man were proof of that heinous crime.
Since then, I live in terror, with the feeling that the spirits of my grandfather's victims haunt me.
Shadows in the corners come alive, and spectral whispers haunt me day and night.
I have considered running away, but something inside me tells me that the evil that awakened that cursed album will follow me wherever I go.
I wish I had never given in to curiosity. There are truths that are better left buried, family secrets that should never come out.
Because once you open Pandora's box, the horror you release may never go back.