The Creaking Stairs: Every Step a Dread
The Creaking Stairs: Every Step a Dread
Lisa had always been a skeptic when it came to ghost stories. She loved reading about haunted houses and eerie urban legends, but she never truly believed them. That was until she set foot in the old Blackwood Manor.
"Are you sure about this, Jake?" she asked, gripping the flashlight tightly. "It's just an old house, Lisa. Nothing to be scared of," Jake replied with a smirk.
The night was cold, and the full moon cast eerie shadows across the abandoned mansion. The locals had warned them to stay away, whispering tales of strange noises, flickering lights, and an unseen presence that roamed the halls. But Jake, always the thrill-seeker, insisted they explore the place.
The First Step
As they pushed open the heavy wooden door, it creaked loudly, sending an unsettling echo through the empty halls. Dust particles danced in the dim light of their flashlights. The air smelled of mildew and something else—something rotten.
"Let's check out the stairs," Jake suggested. Lisa hesitated. "I don't think that's a good idea." "Come on, don't chicken out now," he teased.
Reluctantly, she followed him toward the grand staircase in the center of the house. It was massive, its wooden steps worn down by time. As Jake placed his foot on the first step, a loud creak echoed through the silence. Lisa flinched.
Every Step a Dread
Jake took another step. The floorboards groaned under his weight. Lisa swallowed hard and followed. With each step, the creaking grew louder, more unnatural, as if the house itself was protesting their presence.
"Jake… something feels wrong," she whispered. "Relax, it's just old wood. Probably just expanding with the temperature," he said, though his voice lacked its usual confidence.
Halfway up, Lisa felt something—an invisible force pressing against her back. It wasn’t wind; it was heavier, almost tangible. She turned sharply, but nothing was there.
"Did you hear that?" she asked. "Hear what?" Jake stopped, listening.
Then they both heard it. A whisper. Soft, indecipherable, coming from above.
Lisa grabbed Jake’s arm. "Let's go back. Now." Jake hesitated but nodded.
Trapped
They turned to descend, but as soon as they did, the stairs beneath them groaned louder than before. The wood seemed to shift. A sudden loud *crack* echoed, and the step beneath Jake’s foot gave way.
"Jake!" Lisa screamed.
He barely managed to grab the railing before falling through. Panting, he pulled himself up. "Okay. That was not normal," he admitted.
Before they could move again, the whispering grew louder, turning into an agonized wail. The temperature dropped, and Lisa could see her breath in the air.
"Run!" Jake shouted.
They bolted down the stairs. But the faster they ran, the longer the staircase seemed to stretch. The exit door was impossibly far away.
The Presence
The wailing stopped suddenly. Silence. An eerie, suffocating stillness.
Lisa turned her head slightly, her heart hammering in her chest. And then she saw it.
A shadowy figure stood at the top of the stairs. Featureless, yet its presence was suffocating. It didn't move, but Lisa could feel its gaze piercing through her.
"Don't look back!" Jake yelled.
Lisa obeyed, focusing on running. They reached the front door, yanking at the handle. Locked.
"No, no, no! It was open before!" Lisa cried.
A cold hand brushed against her shoulder.
She screamed.
The Escape
Jake kicked the door with all his strength. The old wood cracked, and finally, they tumbled outside, gasping for air. The moment they hit the ground, the door slammed shut behind them.
The house went silent.
They lay there, panting, staring at the mansion. The windows were dark. No sign of the shadow. No sound of the whispers.
"Never again," Lisa muttered, trembling.
Jake nodded. "Never again."
They scrambled to their feet and ran, leaving the Blackwood Manor and its creaking stairs behind forever.
A Lingering Fear
That night, Lisa couldn’t sleep. Every time she closed her eyes, she heard the whispers. The creaking. The heavy presence behind her. Had they truly escaped?
Her phone buzzed. A text from Jake.
"Lisa, check your window."
Her heart pounded. Slowly, she turned her head toward the glass. Her curtains were drawn, but a faint shadow loomed on the outside.
Then came the sound.
A creaking step.
Lisa’s breath hitched. She squeezed her eyes shut. No. It was impossible. They had left it behind.
The phone buzzed again. Another text.
"It followed us."
Lisa’s blood ran cold.
Conclusion
The legend of Blackwood Manor lives on, whispered among the locals. Some say the house is alive, feeding off fear. Others claim the shadow is the spirit of a tormented soul, forever guarding its home.
But one thing remains certain—those who enter never forget the sound of the creaking stairs.
Would you dare take the first step?
Post a Comment