Story 933: The House That Hungers

The moon loomed heavy over the twisted mansion, its gates creaking in the night wind. Mira’s fingers trembled as she traced the runes carved into the rusted iron. The house beckoned, its windows like black eyes, watching, waiting.

Draven adjusted his grip on his shotgun. “We don’t have time for hesitation.”

Zara exhaled sharply. “That place is alive. You feel it, don’t you?”

They all did. The Forsaken Girl stood apart from the group, her gaze distant. “This house remembers,” she whispered. “It has eaten before.”

Elias scoffed, lighting a cigarette. “Great. A man-eating house. Just another Tuesday.”

As they stepped inside, the door slammed shut behind them.

The foyer stretched impossibly long, candlelight flickering in sconces that hadn’t been touched in decades. A massive staircase spiraled upward, its banister slick with something dark. The walls whispered, voices weaving through the air like fingers brushing against skin.