I’ve always been drawn to abandoned places.

There’s something about the peeling paint, broken windows, and forgotten histories that calls to me in a way I can’t quite explain. These relics of the past, with their silent stories and eerie beauty, fascinate me.

I spend most weekends wandering through derelict buildings and overgrown estates, imagining the lives that once animated them. My friends think it’s a weird hobby, but there’s something about the decay and desolation that feels oddly comforting.

Well, time for introductions. I’m Zephyra Everhart. Most people just call me Zeph. I live with my grandparents and have for as long as I can remember. My parents? They’re not really part of my story. I’m more than happy with my Nonna and Poppa.

“Breakfast is ready, pumpkin!” Speaking of the devil.

“Coming, Poppa,” I shouted back, tucking my journal into the drawer and shutting it closed.

I padded downstairs, drawn by the delicious aroma of my Nonna’s grand breakfast, as always. Call it cliché, but these people are madly in love. Like crazy, you know. Right now, Nonna is softly humming as she sets the table, while Poppa looks at her with practically heart-shaped eyes. Sometimes, they make me want to vomit from the sweetness. But I admire them. They mean everything to me.

After a joyous breakfast, I set off on my usual adventures, wandering around the woods. Let me tell you, I live in Oakvale, a small town in the middle of nowhere, so there are tons of shits to explore around here.

After some time during the explorations, I stumbled upon something that would change everything.

The mansion stood at the edge of town, shrouded in mist and mystery. I’d been there before, but today, it felt different. The air was heavy with a sense of anticipation.

The Willowbrook Estate was a sprawling, once-majestic mansion that had fallen into ruin over the decades. Its exterior, now shrouded in ivy and overgrown foliage, hinted at a past grandeur. The brick walls were cracked and crumbling, with large sections of the facade missing, giving the mansion an unsettling, skeletal appearance. Broken windows lined the upper floors, their shattered glass catching the moonlight and casting jagged shadows on the ground below.

I cautiously approached the entrance, and I noticed a white glimmer against the doorstep’s weathered wood. It wasn’t there when I came to visit last time. An envelope, yellowed and brittle with age. My fingers trembled slightly as I picked it up, the paper crinkling under my touch. The ink on the front was faded but still legible, a delicate script that read:

“You are invited to a soirée at the Willowbrook Estate. Midnight sharp. Follow the whispers.”

Woah, dramatic much? and a soirée? What the hell is that? Maybe some shit that happened back in the day. But what is it doing here? I could see a faded name at the end signed off. Too bad it’s faded.

Maybe it’s some elaborate prank. Perhaps another urban explorer with a sense of humor had left it there, hoping to spook the next curious soul.

“You’re thinking too much Zeph. Just leave. Acting like a princess being invited to shit.” Pablo, my subconscious whispered. Don’t judge, I named my subconscious and it’s a Spanish guy. So what? This is much more interesting anyway.

Right now, he’s kinda right though. Not that this is directed to me but I tucked the letter into my backpack just in case. For your information, I am a princess to my Nonna and Poppa, thank you very much.

As I continued my exploration, a sense of unease settled over me. The invitation seemed to cling to my thoughts, whispering to me in quiet moments. Was it really a prank, or was there something more to it? With that thought, I went back home.

Days turned into nights, and I found myself unable to shake the feeling that the letter was meant for me. Each time I closed my eyes, I saw the delicate script and heard the soft command to come alone. It wasn’t just the words that haunted me, but the sense of purpose they carried.

Whoever had written the letter had intended for it to be found, intended for me to follow its instructions. Well, that’s what I thought.

By the evening of the next day, my curiosity had reached a fever pitch. I tried to reason with myself, to dismiss the whole thing as a joke. But deep down, I knew I had to see it through. And Pablo, the little shit changes his opinion like whether. Now he’s pestering me to go.

As the clock struck eleven, I gathered a few essentials—a flashlight, my notebook, and a small pocket knife—and sneaked out for the Willowbrook Estate. I also took the small broken ballerina I once took from the mansion. Just in case.

The night was cool and silent, the kind of silence that magnifies every rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl. The moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows that danced across the path. My footsteps were the only sound, a rhythmic crunch on the gravel road that led to the estate. I felt a strange mix of excitement and trepidation, my heart beating faster with each step.

“What if this was a trap? What if I was walking into something dangerous?” Oh Shut up Pablo. One second he’s pestering me to go and now worrying. Kinda bipolar if you ask me. I needed to know, that the uncovering of the mystery was too strong to resist. And I’m feeling like the main character of a horror movie. So to the mansion, we go!

When I reached the gates of the Willowbrook Estate, I paused. The iron gates, once ornate and imposing, were now rusted and slightly ajar. Beyond them, the mansion loomed, its dark silhouette broken only by the faint glow of the moon. I took a deep breath and stepped through the gates, feeling a shiver run down my spine. That’s it.

The air inside the estate grounds felt different, heavier somehow as if charged with latent energy. I followed the overgrown path that wound its way to the front of the mansion, the whisper of the wind guiding my steps. As I approached the entrance, I noticed that the door was slightly open, inviting me in.

I hesitated for a moment, the reality of my situation sinking in. Was I really going to walk into an abandoned mansion in the middle of the night, based on a mysterious letter I had found? But curiosity won out, as it always did.

“Curiosity killed the cat Zeph” Don’t jinx it you shit. There’s no going back now. I took a deep breath and pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The interior of the mansion was as decrepit as I remembered, but now it held an air of expectancy. The moonlight filtered through the broken windows, casting eerie patterns on the floor. Dust motes danced in the beams of my flashlight as I swept it across the room. The air was thick with the scent of decay and something else I couldn’t quite place—a hint of something floral, like old perfume.

My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way through the grand foyer, my footsteps echoing off the marble floor. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the occasional creak of the floorboards.

It was vast and empty, save for the tattered remnants of what must have once been luxurious furnishings. The wallpaper faded and peeled, clung desperately to the walls, revealing patches of mold and decay beneath. Cobwebs draped from the high, ornate ceilings, their delicate threads glistening in the faint light. Dust covered everything, thick and undisturbed, except for the path I had taken.

The grand staircase, a centerpiece of the foyer, rose majestically but was marred by missing banisters and warped steps. It split into two, leading to the shadowy upper floors, where the darkness seemed even more impenetrable.

As I moved through the mansion, the sense of being watched never left me. The portraits lining the corridors added to the eerie atmosphere. Their painted eyes seemed to follow me, their expressions frozen in a mix of haughtiness and sorrow. Each room I passed held its own story of neglect and decay.

What might have been a library was now a cavern of collapsed shelves and scattered books, their pages yellowed and torn. The letter had said to come alone, but it hadn’t said what to expect when I arrived.

At the stroke of midnight, a soft chime echoed through the mansion, coming from somewhere deep within, forcing me to jump slightly. My heart raced as I followed the sound, my flashlight flickering as if in response to the unseen presence. The sense of being watched grew stronger with every step. What if I was walking into something I couldn’t handle?

The chime led me to a large wooden door at the end of the hallway. It was slightly ajar, and as I pushed it open, I found myself in a grand ballroom. The room was vast and empty, save for a single table in the center, draped in dirty white cloth. On the table was another envelope, identical to the one I had found outside. My hands trembled as I picked it up and opened it. Inside was a single sheet of paper with the same delicate script:

“Welcome, Zephyra. Your adventure begins now.”

A sudden gust of wind blew through the room, extinguishing my flashlight and plunging me into darkness. I felt a presence behind me, and before I could turn around, a disembodied voice whispered in my ear, “He-llo”

Oh shit.