*Erika clutched the steering wheel, knuckles white as she navigated the winding driveway. Finally, there it was: the old Victorian. It was a steal, the realtor had said, practically giving it away. "Just needs a little TLC," she'd chirped, a little too brightly. Erika shivered, a knot forming in her stomach that had nothing to do with the bumpy ride.

The house loomed, its darkened windows like vacant eyes staring back at her. Overgrown ivy clawed at the decaying wood, and the porch sagged like a weary smile. Still, Erika was determined. This was her chance to start fresh, a new life in a new place.

The first few days were uneventful. Erika unpacked, cleaned, and tried to ignore the strange creaks and whispers that echoed through the empty halls. She chalked it up to an old house settling, the wind whistling through cracks. But then the nightmares started.

Each night, she was plagued by visions of shadowy figures lurking in the corners of her room, their eyes burning with malice. She'd wake up in a cold sweat, convinced she wasn't alone.

One evening, while exploring the attic, Erika stumbled upon a dusty, leather-bound journal. Its pages were filled with frantic scribbles, detailing the descent into madness of a former resident. The last entry was a chilling warning: "It wants to be free."

That night, the house came alive. The floorboards groaned, the walls rattled, and the temperature plummeted. Erika huddled in her bed, paralyzed with fear as she heard footsteps approaching her room. The door creaked open, and a dark figure emerged, its eyes glowing with an unholy light.

Erika screamed, but no sound escaped her lips. The figure lunged, its icy touch sending a jolt of terror through her body. As darkness closed in, she understood the realtor's eagerness to sell. This house wasn't just haunted; it was a prison, and now, Erika was its newest inmate. 😱👻