Evelyn couldn't stop thinking about the photograph. Every time she closed her eyes, the blurry figure would appear in her mind's eye, standing silently beneath the arched doorway of the mansion, its presence a constant weight on her thoughts. She tried to tell herself it was just a trick of the light, maybe a shadow from one of the dilapidated walls, but the more she tried to push it out of her mind, the more it seemed to haunt her.
The unease that had settled into her chest refused to leave.
She spent the following morning going over the rest of the images from the mansion, hoping to find some sort of clue that would explain the mysterious figure. There were no surprises. Just empty rooms, cracked tiles, and the same decaying furniture that had long since lost its former elegance. Nothing unusual. No lingering shadows, no unexplained shapes. The other photos were mundane, professional shots, nothing out of the ordinary. Yet, the figure from the arched doorway refused to be dismissed.
By late afternoon, Evelyn was standing at the door of the mansion once again, the weight of her decision heavy on her shoulders. Her camera was slung over her neck, her hands slightly trembling. She had to go back. She needed to see it again — to prove to herself that the figure hadn't been real, that she hadn't imagined it.
The mansion loomed in the distance, its dark silhouette framed by the fading sunlight. It looked even more imposing today, its broken windows staring blankly back at her like empty eyes, the shadows beneath the trees deep and unfathomable. As she stepped across the overgrown lawn, she noticed how eerily quiet it was. No birds, no rustling leaves, just the soft crunch of her footsteps on the cracked stone path leading to the entrance.
Evelyn pushed the heavy door open with a creak that echoed through the hollow interior. The air was thick with dust, and the smell of mildew and decay filled her nostrils. She shuddered slightly but steeled herself. The photographs hadn't lied — she had been here before. The layout of the mansion was just as she remembered.
She began by retracing her steps from the previous day, her camera ready, snapping photos of the crumbling details she had missed before. She photographed the grand staircase, its bannister warped by years of neglect. The shattered remnants of mirrors that once hung on the walls. The abandoned furniture, now more like forgotten relics of another time. Yet, despite the beauty in the decay, Evelyn couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.
Every corner she turned, every shadow that stretched across the floor, felt like a trap.
When she finally reached the arched doorway, where the mysterious figure had stood in the photo, her breath caught. The area felt... different now. Not physically, but in some intangible way. It was as if the air itself was heavier, as if the room was holding its breath, waiting for something.
Evelyn stood still, looking out at the overgrown garden, the same scene she had photographed the day before. She raised the camera, her fingers slightly unsteady as she peered through the lens. The viewfinder showed nothing but the ruined path, the ivy creeping along the walls, and the remnants of what was once a magnificent garden.
No figure.
Her heartbeat slowed, and a small sigh of relief escaped her. It was nothing, just her imagination getting the better of her. She was probably tired from the long day of shooting.
But then, as she lowered the camera, something caught her eye.
In the far corner of the garden, partially obscured by the tangled vines, there was a flash of movement. She instinctively raised the camera again, zooming in on the spot. The figure — or something like it — was there, just barely visible in the distance, standing perfectly still.
It was impossible. It couldn't be the same figure. The angle was all wrong. She had been standing directly across from the spot, facing this way, when she took the first photo. There was no way anyone could have crossed the garden without her noticing.
She squinted, trying to focus the lens. Her breath quickened as she took the shot, feeling a strange compulsion to capture it, to prove to herself that she wasn't losing her mind. The camera flashed, and for a moment, the entire mansion seemed to go silent. She could hear her own pulse pounding in her ears.
When she lowered the camera and looked at the screen, her stomach dropped.
The figure was closer now, its shape clearer. It was standing beneath the same archway where she had seen it before, but this time, it was staring directly at her. Its face was still blurry, but there was no mistaking the way it was watching her.
Evelyn's hand trembled as she zoomed in, trying to capture more detail. The figure's posture was rigid, unnaturally still, and the faintest outline of its face appeared just for a moment — pale, with hollow eyes. Then, as if it had never been there, the figure vanished from the screen, as though it had been erased by some invisible force.
It was gone.
Evelyn stood frozen, her fingers gripping the camera tightly, her heart racing. She knew the mansion had a long history, but there was something else at play here, something she couldn't explain. And now, it seemed to be drawing her in deeper. She needed answers.
The next step was clear — she needed to find out who, or what, was haunting the mansion.