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The creak of the ancient door echoed in the darkness. she swallowed spittle and advanced first, her flashlight illuminating the grimy walls of the House of the Dead.
-Did you hear that? -whispered her companion in a whisper.
An ethereal whisper seemed to come from the shadows.
-It's just the wind,” she lied, though a shiver ran through her.
In the main hall, a cobweb-covered piano awaited. It played a note, and the echo awakened childish laughter that chilled our blood.
Flashlights flickered and footsteps echoed upstairs.
-Let's go see, -I said with false courage. As we went upstairs, a door ajar revealed a room with abandoned toys. In the center, a doll with a sinister grimace smiled.
The thud of the door closing echoed in our ears. Heart-rending screams surrounded us as the walls began to shake. Spectral visions of a family trapped in their own tragedy gripped us.
-We must remember their names,” she cried. -Give them back their voice!
And so we did, calling out their names over and over again. Laughter turned to whispers of gratitude. A warm light flooded the room and the door opened liberatingly.
As we stepped outside, the oppressive atmosphere subsided. The House of the Dead had healed as we rekindled the memories of those who perished there.
