The town of Briarwood had long been forgotten by the rest of the world, a quiet, mist-covered place nestled in the mountains. But everyone who lived there knew of the old house at the edge of town—the Thornhill Estate. Abandoned for decades, it loomed over the village like a dark shadow, its windows shattered and walls crumbling with age. Children dared each other to go near it, but no one ever stayed long. There was something wrong about that house—something the adults refused to speak about.
Lucy had heard the stories all her life. She had grown up with tales of the Thornhill Estate, of the strange things that happened to those who ventured inside. People spoke of hearing footsteps in the empty halls, of seeing lights flickering in the windows late at night, and of the eyes. The hollow eyes that watched from the darkness, waiting for anyone foolish enough to step inside.
But Lucy didn’t believe in ghost stories. After all, it was just an old, abandoned house. There was no such thing as curses or haunted places, no matter what the others said. So when she heard about her friends planning to break into the Thornhill Estate on a dare, she decided to join them, if only to prove that it was all just nonsense.
They met at dusk, just as the sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the sky streaked with crimson. The air was cool and damp, the mist hanging low over the ground as they made their way toward the house. Lucy, alongside her friends Emma and Jack, stood at the iron gate, staring up at the looming structure before them.
“Looks worse up close,” Jack muttered, kicking at the rusted gate, which groaned as it swung open.
Emma shivered, her eyes darting toward the darkened windows. “I don’t like this. Maybe we should just… leave it.”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “It’s just an old house. We’ll be in and out. Five minutes, tops.”
With that, she led the way, her friends following reluctantly behind. The front door, weathered and warped, creaked open with a sharp push, revealing a grand but decaying interior. Cobwebs draped from the ceiling, and dust covered every surface. The air was thick with the smell of rot and mildew.
The house was deathly silent.
They stepped inside, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Lucy felt a chill run down her spine, but she ignored it, determined not to show any fear. She turned to her friends, forcing a smile. “See? Just a house.”
Jack nodded, but his eyes kept darting to the shadows, and Emma clutched his arm tightly. The dim light from their flashlights cast long, eerie shadows on the walls, and every sound seemed amplified in the stillness.
“Let’s check upstairs,” Lucy said, more to fill the silence than anything else.
They climbed the grand staircase, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls. The house felt unnaturally cold, as though something unseen was watching their every move. As they reached the second floor, the temperature dropped further, and Lucy’s flashlight flickered.
“That’s weird,” she muttered, tapping the side of the flashlight.
Then, from down the hall, they heard it.
A soft, rhythmic tapping, like footsteps… but slower. Deliberate.
They froze, exchanging uneasy glances. Emma’s face had gone pale, and Jack’s grip tightened on his flashlight. Lucy swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay calm.
“It’s just the house settling,” she said, her voice sounding hollow even to her own ears.
But deep down, she didn’t believe it. The sound was too steady, too deliberate.
As they moved further down the hall, the footsteps stopped. They found themselves standing in front of a large wooden door, half-rotted and slightly ajar. Beyond it was a dark, empty room. Lucy hesitated for the first time, but before she could say anything, Jack pushed the door open.
The room was bare, except for one thing—a single, tall mirror standing in the center. The glass was cracked, its surface dull with age, but something about it drew their attention immediately.
Lucy stepped forward, her eyes fixed on the mirror. It felt wrong, like it didn’t belong there, but she couldn’t tear her gaze away. As she approached, the room seemed to grow colder, the air thicker, as if the very house was holding its breath.
“Lucy…” Emma’s voice was shaky. “Let’s go. Please.”
But Lucy ignored her. She reached out, her fingers brushing the edge of the mirror.
And then she saw them.
Behind her reflection, in the dim glass, were eyes. Dozens of them. Hollow, dark, sunken eyes staring back at her from the shadows of the room. They weren’t human—they couldn’t be. They were wide and empty, filled with a cold, malevolent hunger.
Lucy gasped, stumbling backward, her heart racing in her chest. She spun around, shining her flashlight into the corners of the room, but there was nothing there. Just shadows.
“What… what was that?” Jack’s voice was trembling.
“The eyes,” Lucy whispered, her mouth dry. “Did you see them? In the mirror?”
Emma shook her head, her face pale. “I didn’t see anything… just our reflections.”
But Lucy knew what she had seen. Those eyes—they were watching, waiting.
Suddenly, the footsteps began again, louder this time, echoing through the house. And with them came something else. A whisper. Low, raspy, like the breath of something long dead. It was faint at first, but it grew louder, filling the room.
“Stay… with us…”
Panic surged through them. Emma screamed, grabbing Lucy’s arm. “We need to get out of here!”
They bolted down the hall, their footsteps pounding on the creaking floorboards as the whispers followed them, growing louder and more insistent.
“Stay… forever…”
The house seemed to shift around them, the walls narrowing, the shadows closing in. The front door loomed ahead, but it felt impossibly far, as though the house itself was trying to trap them. Lucy’s heart raced as she pushed through the door, the cold air of the outside world hitting her like a wave.
They ran, not stopping until they were far from the estate, their breaths ragged, hearts pounding. The whispers had faded, and the house stood silently behind them, its dark windows like hollow eyes staring down at them.
No one spoke as they made their way back to the village. But Lucy knew one thing for certain.
The house was alive.
And those hollow eyes… they were still watching.