They said Hawthorne Manor was haunted. For years, it loomed on the hill like a scar, its towering chimneys clawing at the sky, the ivy wrapping it like a sinister embrace. People avoided it, but rumors couldn’t stay quiet. They spoke of footsteps echoing down empty hallways, of ghostly figures appearing in windows, and of whispers heard from rooms left untouched for decades. But no one could verify the tales. No one dared stay long enough to try. Until one autumn night, when five friends, thrill-seekers with a love of the paranormal, decided to spend the night there. Matt, the ringleader, had organized it, selling it to his friends as "the ultimate Halloween thrill." His twin sister, Claire, was the skeptic, rolling her eyes at the thought of “another cliché haunted house.” But something about Hawthorne Manor was different. Even Claire felt it—an unease, the cold weight of silence that pressed down on them as they made their way to the house. The group stood outside the ...
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