The old house stood deserted, its windows like empty sockets staring out into the misty night. Footsteps crunched on the gravel path|Leaves rustled in the wind, carrying sounds of something unseen|The air itself seemed to churn, pregnant with a sense of deep-seated secrets. Inside, dust motes danced in the https://arthur29e73.blogdeazar.com/37621810/whispers-from-the-darkest-corners