The Ghostly Presence: Feeling the Cold

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The Ghostly Presence: Feeling the Cold

Anna had never believed in ghosts. She had heard the stories, of course, the whispers about the old Blackwood Manor where she now found herself. The townspeople claimed it was haunted, that a presence still lingered there. But she was a skeptic. That was, until the cold came.

She had taken the job willingly—a historical restoration project meant to turn the decaying estate into a museum. It was just another assignment, or so she thought. But from the moment she stepped inside, a chill ran down her spine.

The Cold Embrace

The first night in the manor was uneventful, save for the biting cold that seemed to settle in no matter how many layers she wore. The fireplace burned, but the warmth never reached her.

"This place is freezing," she muttered, rubbing her arms.

The wind outside howled through the broken windows, rattling the old wooden frames. She wrapped herself in a thick blanket and tried to focus on the documents she had been given—old letters and blueprints of the house.

Then, the temperature dropped further.

Anna's breath came out in a mist, her fingers numbing despite the fire roaring just feet away.

And then she heard it.

A whisper.

Unseen Eyes

Anna sat frozen, her heart pounding. She turned her head slowly, scanning the dimly lit room. The fireplace flickered, casting shadows that danced along the walls.

"Who's there?" she called, trying to keep her voice steady.

Silence.

She exhaled, shaking her head. "Get it together, Anna."

Returning to her work, she barely had time to react when the room’s temperature plummeted. Her breath came in quick gasps as she felt something—an unseen presence—watching her.

The whisper came again, this time closer. It was a single word, carried by the icy air.

"Stay..."

Shadows in the Hall

Anna refused to be scared off. She was a logical person, and there had to be an explanation. With her flashlight in hand, she ventured into the hallway.

The old floorboards creaked beneath her feet. As she moved past the portraits lining the walls, she swore she saw movement—just a flicker—out of the corner of her eye.

She turned quickly, aiming the light.

Nothing.

Then, a sound. A soft, shuffling noise from upstairs.

Against every ounce of reason, she climbed the staircase, the air growing colder with each step.

At the end of the hall, a door stood slightly ajar.

Her breath hitched as she reached out and pushed it open.

The Room of Echoes

The room was covered in dust, untouched for decades. An old rocking chair sat in the corner, swaying gently.

Anna stepped inside, and the air grew heavy. Her flashlight flickered.

Then she saw it.

A figure, barely visible, standing by the window. A woman in an old-fashioned gown, her face obscured by darkness.

Anna’s pulse pounded in her ears.

"Who are you?" she managed to whisper.

The woman lifted her head slowly, and though her features were blurred, her voice was clear.

"You feel the cold... because I do."

The words sent a shiver down Anna’s spine, deeper than the cold itself.

The Tragic Past

Anna spent the next day digging through the manor’s history. She discovered that the woman she had seen was Eleanor Blackwood, the original owner’s wife. The story went that she had died tragically, locked in that very room by her jealous husband.

Her spirit had never left.

That night, Anna returned to the room.

"Eleanor," she called softly. "I know what happened to you."

The cold wrapped around her like a cloak, and the shadows in the room deepened.

"He left you here. Alone. Forgotten. But I remember now."

For the first time, the icy air began to lift. The rocking chair stilled. And the presence in the room, once suffocating, began to fade.

A Warm Farewell

By morning, the house felt different. The air was lighter. The cold had dissipated.

As Anna packed her things, she glanced back at the house one last time.

The manor was silent.

But for the first time in a hundred years, it was finally at peace.