Dark love

hi pookies --- 🖤 “The House That Remembers” — Dark Short Story At the end of Willow Lane stood a house that everyone avoided. The roof sagged like a tired spine, and the windows looked like eyelids half-closed in a nightmare. But Amara walked there every evening, drawn to it the way a moth is drawn to a flame that will burn it. The first time she approached the door, it opened on its own. Inside, the air felt heavy, thick with the scent of dust and something older… something that didn’t belong to the living. The floorboards whispered under her feet, but not like creaks — more like words. Words she couldn’t understand. She came back every day. Soon, the house began to change for her. The walls shifted, rooms appeared where none existed before, mirrors reflected things she hadn’t done. And sometimes, she saw shadows moving behind her — but when she turned, nothing was there. One night, she found a bedroom with a single diary lying on the bed. Her name was written on it. But she had never touched it before. When she opened it, the pages rewrote themselves in front of her eyes. > “I remember you.” “I have waited for you.” “You belong to me.” The house groaned, the door slammed shut, and the lights flickered out. Amara tried to run, but her legs wouldn’t move. It felt like invisible hands held her in place, gently… like a lover.