Azar

"A Haunted Love" You drag your suitcase up the crooked steps. 18 and just moved to this creepy looking old house, the only thing you could afford. The air was warm. Not cozy warm—burning, like you were standing too close to a fire. You glance toward the hallway, heart skipping. For a second, you see smoke curling under one of the doors. Then it vanished. That night, in your new bedroom, you are restless. The ceiling creaked. Shadows stretched across the walls like living things. You were seconds from grabbing your headphones when a voice slipped into the silence. “You shouldn’t be here.” Your phone’s flashlight trembled in your hand as you scan the room. The corner of the room darkened. Smoke curled upward, swirling into the shape of a man. He stepped out of the shadows as though they were a doorway, tall and lean with sharp features and eyes glowing like dying coals.