Mia had always loved her grandmother’s old house. As a child, the creaky floorboards and the scent of lavender and aged wood felt comforting. But now, returning after her grandmother’s passing, the house felt... different.
It started with the little things. Doors that were slightly ajar when she swore she had closed them. Lights flickering despite new bulbs. And then, the scent—lavender, faint at first, then stronger, filling the empty rooms.
One night, as Mia sat by the fireplace, a cold draft swept through the room. She shivered and turned, half-expecting to see someone standing there. But the room was empty.
That’s when she noticed the music box on the mantle. It was her grandmother’s favorite, silent since her passing. Now, it began to play.
Mia froze, her heart pounding. The melody was soft, almost soothing, yet something about it made her stomach churn. Slowly, she approached the box.
The room grew colder.
“Mia…”
The voice was faint, like a whisper carried on the wind. She spun around, her eyes wide, but there was no one there.
The lavender scent became overpowering, and shadows seemed to stretch across the walls. The music box stopped abruptly, the final note hanging in the air.
A photo fell from the mantle, landing face down. Trembling, Mia picked it up. It was her grandmother, smiling... but behind her, a shadowy figure loomed.
She wasn’t alone. She never had been.
Image Credit: Chat GPT
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