CHAPTER 1 A whisper in the House of Shadows

The Red Door

Author: [Crown-Clown]

There is something unsettling about a door. A door is more than wood, more than iron, more than the silent hinges that support its weight. It is a threshold, a boundary between here and there, between what you know and what you fear. Behind every door, something waits - sometimes in silence, sometimes in shadow.

To open a door is to invite opportunity, but not always the one you expect. You can't know what lurks on the other side, watching, waiting, listening for the rattle of a key, the turn of a knob, the quiet creak that gives you away with a bang. Because doors hold secrets, some of them too dark to whisper about, and once you open them, those secrets are no longer yours alone.

Some doors breathe. They pulse with the memories of those who have passed through them before you. The house remembers, and the door is its mouth, patient, eager, ready to speak. But what if the door is not an exit? What if it is an entrance? What if it leads not to the familiar but to the forgotten? Not to the light, but to the shadows?

To knock on a door is to call out, to ask permission from what is behind it. To open it is to respond, not to a call, but to an order. There are doors in the world that must remain forever closed because behind them the past does not want to remain buried. And what was once closed is always waiting for someone who is foolish enough to open it.

Some doors open both ways. But once you cross the threshold, not all paths lead back.

There's something about old houses: they hold memories long after people have passed away, as if the wood and stone themselves remember every whispered secret, every laugh, every cry. Some houses are not just dwellings, they are prisons, havens for things left behind. And some doors, once opened, can never be closed.

David didn't want to go back to his parents' house. He had avoided it for years, leaving heavy memories and unspoken grief locked behind fading walls. Stifling memories of a home once filled with warmth, now haunted by their absence. His parents had disappeared without a trace five years ago, and since then the house had stood empty as a monument to secrecy and despair. It was his inheritance now, but it felt more like a burden.

His parents' disappearance had been sudden, without explanation. One day they were here, and the next they were gone. No bodies, no signs of struggle - just gone. He hoped that perhaps they had left some clue that would explain the mystery of their disappearance. The house he'd inherited was the last lead, and David knew he had to find it, even if it meant facing what he'd been running from for years.

Sighing, he ran a hand through his disheveled hair and looked up at his house. The house stood at the edge of a quiet, forgotten street, its silhouette silhouetted against the evening sky. It was a two-story Victorian-style house whose once-white paint had peeled and turned gray. The large porch was slightly askew, the wood groaning under the weight of years, and the railing cracked and warped from neglect. Dark, narrow windows sat at the front of the house, their panes fogged with dirt, and it was hard to tell if anyone was watching from inside.

The roof was steep and gabled, casting a deep shadow over the front yard, and the shingles were missing in places. Vines twisted along the sides of the house, poking through cracks in the foundation as if nature was slowly reclaiming the structure. The chimney tilted slightly, as if ready about to collapse, adding a crooked, unsettling element to the otherwise straight lines of the house.

There had once been a garden in the yard, but now it was overgrown and feral, weeds and tangled bushes squeezing the life out of the flowerbeds. The grass, long and unkept, swayed gently in the wind, trailing the remains of a rusty swing outside the house whose chains creaked softly with every gust of wind. A dilapidated fence, its posts leaning at different angles, enclosed the lot, as if struggling to keep the outside world at bay.

Above it all stood a house whose walls were imbued with an air of abandonment and mystery. It was a place frozen in time, holding secrets and memories behind its heavy oak front door.

The door creaked open at the touch of his hand, revealing the silence inside. The house was a mess. Dust covered every surface, cobwebs twisted in the corners, and the air was musty, as if time had stopped the moment his parents disappeared. David decided to clean the place up, if only because of the fact that he now lived here.

After cleaning around the house, it was the attic's turn. Climbing up into the attic, David decided to take a look around. The attic was even worse than he remembered. The dim light barely penetrated the dust clinging to every surface. Boxes, trunks, and forgotten furniture cluttered the space, creating an oppressive, suffocating feeling. As David rummaged through the clutter, he had a strange feeling that he was being watched, but every time he looked up, it appeared that he was alone, surrounded only by old memories.

David wiped the dust from his hands and stepped away from the last stack of old boxes, satisfied that he had done the day's work of clearing out the attic. The house, though steeped in forgotten memories and neglect, finally seemed less suffocating - less like the crypt of his past.

It wasn't until he found the chest, buried under a pile of old blankets and broken toys, that he felt the air change. His heart beat faster, and he couldn't explain the sensation as he opened the heavy wooden chest. Inside, beneath the layers of childhood relics, lay something misplaced - something that had no place inside.

A black cell phone.

It was old but smooth, its surface untouched by dust or time, as if it had been waiting for him. When David first turned it on, there was nothing but a blank screen, which he quickly dismissed as a glitch or a relic of the past. It was the ringing that startled him. "Ding-Ding-Ding." The sound echoed through the attic, unnaturally loud in the silence of the house. He picked up the phone and frowned, staring at the bright screen that displayed a single message. - "Will you let me in?"

David froze, a chill running down his spine at the words on the screen. He was thinking feverishly. Was this a prank? A message left by mistake? But no - how could it be? He'd found the phone that very day, buried under a pile of forgotten items that no one had touched in God knows how long. He hadn't even given the number to anyone.

- Who are you? - he muttered aloud, as if expecting the phone to answer. But it still remained silent, and the message stared at him with an almost mocking insistence. David tried to ignore it, but in the back of his mind something was gnawing at him. There was a feeling that he was being watched, as if the house or something inside it was beginning to pay attention to him again.

"Will you let me in?" There was no context, no sender, just the question hanging in the air like a challenge or a threat. His fingers hovered over the screen, unwilling to answer. The house was suddenly colder, the shadows in the corners of the attic thickening and becoming more oppressive. He caught himself looking around, almost expecting someone to be watching him from the dark corners.

The phone in his hand rang again. "Will you let me in?" The same question, but it sounded heavier now, as if whoever - or what - had sent it was losing patience. David's gaze darted to the attic door, barely visible at the far end of the room. It remained closed, just as he had left it. But in the silence of the house, the creaking from below seemed closer now. It wasn't just the house settling. Someone - or something - was moving. And it wanted to be let in.

David's breath caught as the old wooden staircase creaked under an invisible weight. Every hair on the back of his neck stood up, and a message on the strange black phone pulsed in his head, "Will you let me in?"

A creaking sound was heard outside the door, as if someone was scratching at it. His heart was pounding frantically in his chest, ready for anything - at least it seemed that way to him. He slowly reached for the doorknob, hesitating only a moment. Then, with a quick sigh, he swung it open.

For a second, the world seemed to hold its breath.

with wide-open, serene blue eyes, tail wrapped neatly around his paws. The cat tilted its head to the side and meowed softly, as if it had been waiting for him all along. David stared at him in confusion.

He was ready for anything-a ghost, a nightmare-but not this. The tension fell from him in a flash, and he felt almost ridiculous. He knelt down and gingerly reached out to the cat. - Where did you come from? - he whispered, addressing himself rather to himself.

The cat responded with a low, murmuring purr, stepped forward, and rubbed his nose against his hand. It was soft and warm and very real - definitely not the creature he'd imagined hiding in the attic. As he scratched him behind the ears, the phone rang again in his pocket. David straightened up, the tension returning to his body. He pulled out his phone and a new message popped up on the screen. "Did you let the right person in?" The blood froze in his veins as he shifted his gaze from the screen to the cat that was now wriggling at his feet.

David's initial unease vanished when he realized that the cat was nothing more than a harmless, albeit mysterious companion. His fluffy white fur and gentle purring were oddly soothing amidst the strange events of the day. He glanced at the black phone, the screen of which was still flickering with a disturbing message.

With the phone in one hand and the cat in the other, David walked down the stairs. The house was quieter, as if the cat's presence had taken some of the oppressive heaviness out of the rooms. He headed determinedly for the kitchen, his stomach rumbling protestingly. The kitchen, though recently cleaned, still retained a certain charm. The room was modest but functional, with neatly arranged wooden cabinets and countertops that gleamed under the bright energy-saving light. The old-fashioned stove and refrigerator, polished to a high shine, gave the room a touch of nostalgia.

The recently cleaned floor was covered with light ceramic tiles, and their clean surface reflected the light, giving the room a bright, cozy atmosphere. The sink was empty, the faucet was closed, and there was nothing on the drying rack except a few plates that David had washed earlier. The walls were painted a soft, neutral color, and the small window above the sink let in the last rays of evening light, casting a warm glow over the room.

David gently lowered the cat onto the kitchen table, where it seemed to enjoy watching him with curious blue eyes. He walked over to the grocery bag he had brought with him. The bag contained the essentials: a few cans of soup, a loaf of bread, some fresh vegetables, a meat sausage, milk, and a small carton of eggs. The assortment was modest, but it was enough to make a simple and hearty meal. He started by unpacking the groceries and laying them out on the countertop. The vegetables - a couple of carrots, a bell pepper, and some potatoes - were still fresh, their color standing out brightly on the clean surface of the table. The loaf of bread, though not handmade, was soft and appetizing. David set aside the ingredients he would need to prepare the meal, deciding to make a hearty vegetable stew. After preparing the ingredients, he poured water into a pot and placed it on the stove, turning on the burner. The vegetables were thoroughly washed and finely chopped. He added the chopped vegetables to the pot. Soon the kitchen was filled with the smell of cooking vegetables, a pleasant and savory aroma that seemed to chase away the remnants of the anxiety from earlier. He decided that bread would go perfectly with this dish. He cut it into thick, crusty slices and set it aside to toast when the stew was almost ready.

The cat, now contentedly perched on the kitchen table, watched David with a mixture of curiosity and contentment. The soothing whirring of the stove and the soft light streaming in from the kitchen window created a serene atmosphere, making the room seem like a small sanctuary amidst the unfamiliar surroundings of the house.

David felt himself returning to normal. It was late, and the house was quiet except for the sounds of cooking and the occasional soft purr of the cat. David, distracted by the cooking, realized that he wasn't home alone, he now had a furry friend. He pulled a small dish from the cupboard, perfect for the cat's dinner. He took a few slices of sausage out of the refrigerator, cut them into small, easy-to-cook pieces, and carefully arranged them on the dish. The cat's nose twitched at the smell, and his eyes followed his every move with keen interest.

Then he poured some milk into a shallow bowl and set it next to the sausage dish. The cat's whiskers twitched in anticipation, and he moved closer to inspect his impromptu treat. David watched with a smile as the cat began to eat, its contented purring filling the kitchen. He felt a sense of satisfaction knowing that he had managed to provide the cat with comfort and care, adding a touch of normalcy and companionship to the evening.

Satisfied that the cat was occupied, David returned to his meal. He transferred the vegetable stew to a plate, savoring the rich aroma that filled the kitchen. The warmth of the cooked stew and the quiet presence of the cat created a soothing atmosphere that made the house seem a little less empty and more like home. As he sat down at the table, the gentle purring of the cat and the soft, soothing light of the kitchen lamp helped him shake off his lingering anxiety. The day's mysteries seemed distant for a moment, giving way to the simple pleasure of a late dinner and the company of his newfound furry friend.

Finished with dinner, David washed the dishes and tidied up the kitchen with a newfound sense of calm. The kitchen, now clean and neat, seemed like a small victory over the chaos of the day. He glanced at the phone lying on the countertop, its screen dark and silent. The previous messages were still on his mind, but he decided to put them aside for now.

The cat stretched lazily after he finished eating, and then came over to David and purred softly at his feet. David leaned over to pet the cat and its soft fur touched his fingers. Just stroking the cat brought a sense of calm that was much needed. David grabbed his phone and tucked it into his pocket.

He headed into the living room, the cat following at his heels. The living room was flooded with the soft, warm light of an antique lamp that stood next to the couch, its lampshade casting a soft glow across the room. The wooden floors, recently swept and polished, gleamed softly in the diffused light, their natural texture emphasized by the soft reflection of the lamp. A soft, intricately patterned rug, now neatly leveled, covered part of the floor in front of the sofa, adding a touch of coziness and warmth. The sofa on which David had settled was in good condition and comfortable, the cushions padded and neatly laid out.

The television mounted on the wall opposite the couch cast a soft glow across the room, providing an even, soothing light that gave the room a peaceful atmosphere. The fireplace, though unused, was tidy, the hearth cleanly swept, and there were a few decorative items on the mantelpiece - an antique clock, a few candles.

He turned on the television, and the room filled with the familiar noise of the nightly show. The cat jumped onto the couch and curled up next to David with a contented sigh. The events of the day - the mysterious messages, the eerie musings, and the unsettling silence of the house - receded into the background. The rhythmic purring of the cat and the relaxed flow of the TV show created a sense of normalcy that was very soothing. David allowed himself to relax, letting the anxieties and oddities of the past day dissipate.

The clock on the wall ticked measuredly, its hands slowly approaching midnight. The time was 23:32, a reminder of how much time had passed while watching the TV show.

The cat, who was now nestled comfortably beside David, made a low meow and stretched lazily. His movements were graceful and fluid, but his eyes remained wary, and from time to time he glanced at the wall clock, as if he could sense the passage of time. There was an almost supernatural wariness in the cat's demeanor that added unease to the otherwise peaceful scene.

David leaned back on the back of the couch, his gaze wandering between the cat's curious eyes and the steady ticking of the clock. The warmth of the room did nothing to dispel the thoughts that swirled around in his head. He was consumed by the events of the past day-the mysterious phone and the encrypted messages that seemed to hint at something more sinister lurking in the house.

Questions plagued him, persistent and troubling. Why had his parents disappeared? What could have made them leave their home and disappear without a trace? The mystery of their disappearance weighed heavily on him, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was a connection between their fate and the strange occurrences he had encountered.

What plans should he make? Should he continue to investigate the strange phenomena occurring in the house, or should he focus on practical matters such as securing the property and searching for clues about his parents? He felt a growing desire to understand what was behind these disturbing events and uncover the truth behind his parents' disappearance. Every now and then the cat cast glances at the clock, seeming to mirror David's own sense of unease, as if the cat was silently urging him to make sense of the mysteries that were beginning to unfold. The room, flooded with the soft light of the television and dimmed lamp, seemed both cozy and unsettling at the same time, a reminder of the contrast between normality and the unknown.

David took a deep breath, trying to calm his feverishly racing thoughts. He resolved to face whatever lay ahead with determination, knowing that the answers - if they existed - would eventually emerge. In the meantime, he allowed himself to find some solace in the company of the cat and the quiet ticking of the clock, preparing himself for the challenges and discoveries the next day might bring.

The calm atmosphere of the living room was suddenly shattered by the sharp, shrill sound of a notification on David's phone. The sudden noise made him flinch, sending shivers of fear throughout his body. He glanced at the cat, who jumped up from his cozy spot on the couch, ears perked and eyes wide, sensing David's sudden tension.

 David's heart raced as he reached for the phone, which now seemed heavy and threatening in his hand. With a trembling finger he turned on the screen, which lit up the room with an eerie glow. The message that appeared sent a chill down his spine:

"Someone is watching you from the mirror." His breath caught. The message was disturbingly direct, and the thought of someone - or something - watching him from the mirror gave him goosebumps. The former coziness of the living room now seemed to be overshadowed by a growing sense of dread. He stood up slowly, the cat rubbing against his legs as if sensing his unease.

David was thinking frantically, trying to make sense of the disturbing message. How could someone be looking at him from a mirror if there were no mirrors in the living room? The only mirrors he knew of were in the bathroom and at the entrance, opposite the door to the pantry. Feeling both anxious and determined at the same time, he decided to figure it out. The bathroom was closer, so he headed there first thing. The room was quiet and well lit, the mirror above the sink reflecting cleanliness and order. David examined his reflection carefully, scrutinizing every corner of the mirror. Everything looked as normal - no strange shapes, no unusual distortions. The only thing he noticed was his own anxious face, tense with worry.

Disappointed, but not entirely reassured, David left the bathroom and headed for the hallway. The mirror here was larger and in an elegant frame, giving him a wide view of the room. He stood in front of it, studying his reflection with a growing sense of unease. The room behind the mirror looked ordinary, but he had a vague feeling that something was wrong.

Just as he was about to leave, the clock in the living room struck midnight. The sound seemed to echo through the house, heightening the tension. David looked in the mirror again, and that's when he saw it - the ghastly blood-red handprint mark on the door opposite the mirror that led to the pantry.

His blood froze in his veins at the sight of that mark. The door, which only a few hours ago had seemed normal, was now covered with a bright purple stain. The red stain seemed to pulsate with unnatural intensity, and as David stared at it, the stain seemed to grow, spreading like a living thing.

David's thoughts were reeling with fear and confusion. What did the blood red mark mean? Was it a clue, a warning, or something else entirely? He froze in place, torn between the desire to investigate further and the all-consuming fear that gripped him.

David's gaze was fixed on the door, and his breath caught as the blood-red palm print began to spread. What had once been a small disturbing spot was now rapidly enlarging, turning the entire door into a crimson-colored canvas. The bright red seemed to pulsate like a living thing, feeding off of an unseen source of fear.

The cat hissed loudly, her eyes widening in horror. The sound was a sharp contrast to the silence in the room, an instinctive reaction to the ominous transformation taking place before their eyes. David could sense the cat's fear and felt it amplify his own growing unease.

As the surface of the door became completely soaked in blood, a spreading red stain. What had only been visible in the mirror was now manifesting itself in the physical world. David's heart raced, the sight of the transformed door filled him with cold, creeping dread.

Swollen, vein-like outgrowths began to emerge on the door, spreading outward in grotesque, worm-like patterns. These veins weren't just paint or illusion-they seemed to pulse, as if they were the veins of a living thing. They stole along the wall, their grotesque movements reflecting the unnatural life David had witnessed.

The wall was mottled with the same blood-red veins, wriggling and warping the plaster, as if the door had somehow become a malignant growth, penetrating its decay into the very fabric of the house. The veins seemed to wriggle in an alarming rhythm, creating an eerie spectacle of living, throbbing horror.

David stood, paralyzed, his mind churning with fear and confusion. The cat's desperate hissing seemed to be an echo of his own growing panic. He knew he had to act quickly, but was paralyzed with terror at the scene unfolding before him. The door, now a hideous embodiment of something dark and sinister, seemed to beckon with a terrible promise of what might happen next.

There was an oppressive silence in the living room, broken only by the eerie, ominous sounds coming from behind the bloody door. David's heart pounded frantically in his chest, and each beat echoed with alarming sounds-muffled, guttural, and rhythmic-as if something-or someone-was moving somewhere out of sight. The door creaked ominously, and the sound was a grim reminder of the terror that was building up inside David.

The hairs on the back of David's neck stood up as he froze in place, realizing the reality of his situation with overwhelming force. Against all odds, he had hoped that there would be no one behind that door, but as the sounds grew louder and more distinct, a chilling thought crept into his mind - a thought he tried desperately to ignore: what if there was someone or something waiting to enter?

His fears were justified when he felt a slight, almost imperceptible movement in the door. The knob began to turn, and with it came the unmistakable sensation that someone-or something-was trying to break through. The knob twisted and turned, slowly lowering as if guided by an invisible hand. The door groaned and creaked, the sound amplified by the ominous energy in the atmosphere.

David's thoughts raced in panic. Behind the ajar door he could see a streak of darkness, a void that seemed to pulse with an unsettling presence. The moment stretched agonizingly slow, a nightmarish anticipation of what might emerge from the darkness. The air was saturated with tension, and David could almost physically feel the oppressive weight of what was out of sight.

In a burst of desperate determination, David sprang into action. With a primal roar, full of fear and determination, he pushed against the door with all his weight. His muscles tensed as he pushed it as hard as he could, slamming it shut with a deafening thud. The door, which had been put back in place for a moment, shuddered on its hinges.

The silence that came after the door slammed was brief, filled with tense anticipation. David stood, panting and trembling, leaning against the door with a sense of grim determination. The blood-red door, mottled with swollen, pulsing veins, loomed ominously before him, reminding him that the horror was far from over.

The cat, suddenly went into a frenzy of despair. It hissed and whined, its eyes widened with terror. The animal's frenzied behavior only added to David's growing fear, signaling that something terrible was about to happen.

As if on cue, a knocking began at the door. At first it was a distant, rhythmic knock, but it quickly grew louder and more insistent. The sound was fierce and relentless, as if something - or someone - was desperately trying to escape. The door shook violently under the blows, the veins on its surface seeming to pulse with their own vicious life. Each thud was accompanied by guttural, heartbreaking howls and screams from the other side, a cacophony of pain and rage.

David's heart pounded frantically as he pounded on the door, his muscles tense with tension. The force of the blows was almost overwhelming, and he felt the vibrations pass through the door and into his own body. The howls and screams were primal and wild, filled with an unearthly hunger that rippled through him to the core. It seemed that what was on the other side was not just trying to break free, but was driven by an insatiable desire to devour and destroy.

The door sagged under the relentless onslaught, creaking and groaning as it tried to steady itself. David's hands were slippery with sweat, and he gripped the doorknob harder and harder. He could see the blood-red veins on the door stretching and curving, the once-contained terror now spilling out into the physical world. David was seized with despair. He piled his shoulder against the door, straining with all the strength he had left. His muscles whimpered in protest, but he fought the pain, determined to keep whatever was behind the door from entering the house.

The cat continued to protest furiously, its shrill cries mingling with the nightmarish sounds coming from the other side. The combination of sounds was almost unbearable, a symphony of horror that seemed to penetrate to the very depths of David's soul. Letting out one last guttural roar, David pounded on the door with all his might, trying desperately to hold back the terror. The pounding and howling reached a climax, and David felt that the door and himself were about to give in.

After David's final desperate tug, the incessant pounding and howling from the other side suddenly stopped. The sudden silence that followed was almost as abrupt as the chaos that had begun earlier. The door, now motionless and silent, seemed to have regained its usual appearance.

David, with his heart still pounding and his body trembling with exertion, slowly leaned his back against the door. He slid to the floor, feeling weak in his legs. His breathing was intermittent, relief and underlying fear in each exhalation.

There was an ominous silence in the room. The oppressive tension eased, and the cat that had once been furious and anxious finally calmed down. It approached David cautiously, its fur still slightly ruffled, but its eyes now glowed with a wary curiosity. She settled down beside him, creating a small, calming presence in the midst of this chaos.

It took David a moment to gather his thoughts, going over the events of the past in his head. The room, despite the strange and horrifying events, seemed normal again. The blood-red mark on the door seemed to have disappeared, leaving behind only a vague, disturbing memory of what had happened.

He knew that the danger was not really over-that the door was only a temporary barrier against the darkness that was trying to break out. But for the moment, the immediate threat seemed to have been eliminated. The silence was almost perfect, too calm, and David couldn't escape the feeling that something was lurking beyond perception, waiting for the right moment to strike again. The fragile calm that reigned in the room was broken by the sharp beep of a new message on the mysterious phone. David's heart jumped as he tried to pull the phone out of his pocket, feeling the small device uncomfortably heavy in his hand. The screen lit up the semi-dark hallway, casting an eerie glow on his face.

The clock on the phone showed 00:12. David couldn't believe his eyes - it seemed to him that he'd been struggling with the door for ages, but according to the clock, only ten minutes had passed. The discrepancy between his perception of time and the reality on the screen increased his anxiety.

The new message said, "There is a guest waiting for you in the hallway."

David's eyes widened with confusion and fear. There was no one in the hallway except for him and the cat, who nestled next to him in a state of wary calm. He looked around, expecting some new nightmare to materialize out of the darkness. The message, though cryptic, seemed to suggest the presence of some entity beyond what he could see.

He rose cautiously, the cat anxiously following his movements. The corridor, flooded by the dim light from the living room and the eerie glow of the telephone, looked the same as before - empty, quiet, and without any obvious signs of intrusion.

David approached the mirror with a sense of dread. The corridor itself didn't seem to have changed, but the message implied that something - or someone - was waiting for him. He felt a chill run down his spine as he looked in the mirror for any sign of the "guest" mentioned in the message. There was nothing unusual in the reflection in the mirror - just an empty hallway and the barely discernible outline of furniture. David's gaze darted around the room, trying to match what he saw with his surroundings. The disturbing feeling that he was being watched returned, and he was seized by a fit of paranoia. He shifted his gaze back to the hallway, thinking feverishly. Was this message a ruse, a cruel game designed to piss him off even more? Or was he overlooking something - something the mirror might have shown? David's thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear. He could see nothing in the hallway itself, but the message and the disturbing stillness of the mirror suggested that the true nature of the "guest" might be hidden or somehow distorted.

As David looked around the corridor, confused and anxious, a faint but insistent creaking sound caught his attention. It was a subtle sound, like the quiet grinding of old gears. The sound seemed to be coming from the mirror, a disturbing anomaly in this quiet space. Turning slowly, David shifted his gaze back to the mirror, he was struck by a chilling sight.

The reflection in the mirror was not at all what he had expected. Instead of the tired, frightened face he had seen in reality, the mirror reflected a different version of himself. This "other" David was smiling - a wide, intimidating smile that radiated an unsettling sense of satisfaction. The smile was too wide and the eyes too brilliant, as if the reflection was enjoying a dark, sinister pleasure.

David's heart twitched when he saw this disturbing image. The reflection's behavior was in stark contrast to the look of horror on its face. It was as if the mirror had become a portal to another version of himself - one that was pleased with the unfolding horror, as if it were a spectator of a macabre performance.

The reflection's smile was unsettling, almost predatory, and a malicious intelligence seemed to glow in its eyes. The reflection seemed to have its own intentions, an intelligent being enjoying its own grim amusement. The sight was a vivid reminder that the mirror was no ordinary object, but a conduit to something far more sinister. David felt goosebumps run down his back. The sight of his own reflection, distorted by an expression of eerie satisfaction, contrasted sharply with his own state of fear and exhaustion. The reflection seemed to mock him, enjoying the terror and uncertainty he felt.

He took a step back, keeping his gaze on the mirror. The sense of dread had intensified, and he could almost physically feel the ominous presence of his reflection through the glass. The thought that his own image could harbor such a dark and disturbing nature was both mesmerizing and terrifying. Desperate to escape the clutches of the reflection, David turned away from the mirror, his thoughts frantically racing. He couldn't ignore the significance of what he saw - the mirror didn't just reflect his appearance, but seemed to embody the darker side of his own soul. The reflection's smile, the satisfaction in its eyes hinted at a deeper, more disturbing reality.

David's first impulse was to run away from the harmful influence of the mirror, but he quickly realized that simply hiding from it would not be enough. The sight of his own reflection smiling with such sinister satisfaction was too disturbing to ignore. He needed to act decisively to regain control of the situation.

David looked around for something to cover the mirror in the hallway. He spotted a large, heavy blanket thrown over a nearby chair and grabbed it. He carefully covered the mirror with the blanket, making sure it was completely covered. The blanket hid the reflection, but David knew it was only a temporary measure. Determined to limit the mirror's impact, David remembered the second mirror in the bathroom. His brain worked feverishly as he thought about the fact that the bathroom mirror could also be a conduit for some dark forces. Without hesitation, he headed for the bathroom, the cat cautiously following him. Once in the bathroom, David pulled another large towel from the linen closet. He walked over to the mirror, which still reflected the clean, well-lit bathroom space. With a firm hand, he carefully slipped the towel over the mirror, making sure it was completely covered. The towel hung on the glass, hiding the reflection and the surface of the mirror from view.

Feeling somewhat relieved, David took a moment to catch his breath. Mirroring the mirrors was a step toward regaining control, but he knew it was only the beginning. The disturbing phone message and the strange behavior of the reflections had pissed him off, and he needed to stay alert. David looked around the bathroom, making sure everything was in order before returning to the hallway. The cat, feeling more at ease, gently moved to follow him. David's mind was still swarming with questions and concerns about what might happen next. The thought of meeting the "guest" mentioned in the message still filled him with dread, and the anxious ruminations only added to his growing unease.

David took a deep breath, focusing on the immediate task at hand. He needed to remain vigilant and prepare for anything that might happen next. The mirrors were closed, but the misgiving never left him, a dark shadow lay over the house.

After a long time of waiting, the first rays of dawn came through the windows, and there was an eerie, unnatural silence in the house. The clock in the living room ticked softly, its hands indicating 7 a.m. The soft morning light spilled into the room, emphasizing the calm that seemed to have settled over the house after a night full of tense, disturbing events. David, who had spent a sleepless night in suspense, was exhausted but felt some relief. The house was quiet, with no signs of further disturbance or supernatural activity. The blankets and towels covering the mirrors seemed to provide a temporary respite from disturbing reflections and ominous messages. Still, the morning calm was almost confusing in its contrast to the chaos of the previous night. The house seemed to have returned to a semblance of normalcy, the strange events of the previous night now seeming like a distant echo.

He rose slowly from his seat on the couch, kneading his tired limbs and trying to shake off the intrusive feeling of dread. The cat that had snuggled up next to him for the night now stretched and yawned, his demeanor more relaxed as the day wore on.

David decided to take advantage of the lull to reassess the situation. He needed to get a better handle on the events of the previous night and figure out how to deal with the phenomena that were troubling him. The covered mirrors were a temporary solution, but he knew he needed a more permanent approach to uncovering the truth behind the mysterious events. The house was quiet now, but he knew that the answers he sought were still hidden within its walls, waiting to be found.

Feeling a hungry rumbling in his stomach, David realized it was time to work up an appetite. The house still held many secrets, though. The disturbing events of the previous night had taken their toll, and he was eager to escape the eerie atmosphere of the house. With a determined step he headed for the car. He decided to get a change of scenery and a quick and hearty snack, so he went to the local diner. But when he opened the driver's side door, the cat rushed past David and jumped into the front seat, making herself comfortable, as if she had every right to be there. David laughed softly, surprised at the cat's insistence on joining him.

"-Well, I guess you're coming with me," David said with a smile, carefully closing the door and getting into the driver's seat. He could hardly refuse the cat his company, and having the cat around seemed a small consolation in this strange situation. The trip to the diner was uneventful, the cat sitting quietly in the passenger seat, occasionally looking out the window with curiosity. David found comfort in the usual morning routine, in the fact that he was behind the wheel.

When they reached the diner, David quickly ordered a thick breakfast, dreaming of the simple pleasure of a good meal. The diner, with its retro charm and the pleasant aroma of coffee and bacon, seemed like a true paradise. He quickly gathered his food, eager to get back to the car and enjoy a moment of peace. Back in the car, David placed the food on the seat beside him and prepared to eat. The cat, always inquisitive, watched intently as David unwrapped his breakfast. David grinned again, noticing the cat's impatient look - it was obviously just as interested in the food as he was, though it was content in its seat beside him. The usual breakfast at the diner was a stark contrast to the chaos of the previous night, giving David a brief respite and a chance to regain his strength.

After finishing his breakfast, David looked at the cat, who was meowing impatiently. Realizing that the cat was still hungry and that there was nothing edible for him at home, he made a quick decision. He stopped by the local supermarket to pick up some cat food and bowls. The supermarket was a bustling center of daily life, a nice contrast to the eerie quiet of his home. David strolled down the rows, selecting a few cans of cat food and a couple of sturdy, practical bowls. As he walked through the store, he happened to stumble upon the woodwork department. Rows of wooden boards and tools caught his eye.

A thought struck him - an idea that seemed practical and urgent. Given the disturbing events with the pantry door, it might be wise to board it up. The thought of an extra layer of defense against whatever might be lurking behind that door gave a little reassurance. He grabbed some boards and nails, contemplating a simple but effective solution for securing the door. With these supplies, he could ensure the door closed securely and prevent any further breaches. The thought of taking proactive steps to secure the house gave him resolve.

With cat food, cat bowls, and cat litter tray and carpentry supplies in hand, David walked back to his car and drove home. The morning chores had provided a brief distraction from anything strange, but now it was time to deal with the door situation. The cat, happy with his new food, purred contentedly in the kitchen, munching away.

Back in the house, David set to work, carefully nailing the door to the pantry. As he worked, he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched, the constant uneasiness that seemed to linger in the house despite his best efforts to keep it safe. With each nail he hammered into the boards, he hoped to regain a sense of normalcy and protect himself from whatever might be lurking behind that door.

David felt some relief after locking the pantry door and making sure the mirrors were closed. However, the house was still uncomfortable and he wasn't ready to relax inside. Seeking comfort and a sense of security, he grabbed a pillow and blanket and headed for the car. The cat, sensing the change in routine, escorted him out with a curious look. David settled into the driver's seat, laying out the pillow and blanket to make a makeshift bed. The cat curled up beside him.

Before falling asleep, David set his alarm for 11:00 p.m., a precautionary measure to make sure he didn't miss anything unexpected. Setting the alarm, he closed his eyes and let the warmth of the blanket and the soft purr of the cat envelope him. The car, though a little cramped and unaccustomed to sleeping in, provided a temporary distraction from the eerie atmosphere of home. Tiredness took over, and David's mind gradually calmed and he drifted into a restless sleep, hoping that the respite would give him the strength to cope with whatever trials awaited him.

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CHAPTER 2 A whisper in the House of Shadows

Reflections have supernatural power because they reveal not only the outward appearance, but also the hidden depths of our souls. A mirror is more than glass; it is a portal to the unknown, a silent witness to the darkness that lurks in the folds of our soul. When we gaze into our reflection, we are confronted not only with our physical self, but also with the shadows that lurk in the recesses of our consciousness.

The mirror becomes a receptacle of the invisible, a place where the veil between worlds thins, allowing us to see the entities and forces that dwell beyond the threshold of human understanding.

They are deceptive, revealing an alternate version of ourselves that may be disfigured or grotesque. Deep in the night, when lights flicker and shadows dance, reflections can take on a life of their own, becoming sinister distortions that reflect our deepest fears. They become harbingers of terror, reflecting not only our appearance but also the darkness we are often too afraid to acknowledge.

******

David awoke to the sharp beep of the alarm clock on his phone, abrupt in the silence of the cabin. Even though he had gotten a good night's sleep, the discomfort of the cramped reclining seats made his body tense and tired. He stretched as far as he could, feeling the tension in his neck and back. The cat curled up next to him stirred too, making a low meow as if to signal its awakening. As he drove past, David could see out the car window the deep, inky darkness of night. The only source of light was the soft glow of the streetlights, casting long shadows on the empty street. The air outside seemed still, eerily silent, as if the world itself was holding its breath. David felt a growing restlessness, a reminder that despite the short rest, something was still wrong.

David's restlessness only intensified when he got out of the car, memories of the previous night's horrors still fresh in his mind. The cold night air enveloped him as he approached the house, each step harder than the last. His heart raced with fear that what was haunting him might still be lurking inside, waiting for him to return. David's hands trembled slightly as he unlocked the front door of the house, a cold anxiety gripping him. The previous night had shaken him, and when he stepped inside, he was greeted by a familiar but oppressive silence. The air inside seemed heavier, as if the house itself was holding its breath in anticipation.

The floorboards creaked under his weight as he moved cautiously down the hallway, looking around for any sign of the supernatural. His pulse quickened with each step, but at first glance everything seemed in place-no blood-red door, no ominous glow lurking in the corners of the room. His feet carried him into the hallway, where the door to the pantry was closed and boarded up, just as he had left it the day before. He stared at it for a long time, almost expecting the veins and purple tint to reappear, or worse, the door to swing open by some otherworldly force. He leaned closer to the door, pressing his ear against the wood. Silence. No scratching, no whispering, no howls like those that had haunted him last night. Relief swept over him for a moment, but it wasn't enough to quell the growing feeling of unease creeping up his spine.

Then he turned his attention to the mirrors. The first one was the bathroom mirror-the smaller one, the one that didn't raise any concerns. Gathering his wits, he opened the bathroom door. The mirror was still covered as well. He exhaled, though he didn't realize he was holding his breath. Then headed back out into the hallway again, the ill-fated mirror appeared - the same one that had betrayed him earlier. He stood in front of it, gazing intently, the mirror wrapped in a blanket. He walked over to the small cabinet where he kept his tools and picked up the hammer he had bought the day before. Its weight in his hand inspired confidence, it was sturdy and could be relied upon. He also took the crowbar, its cold steel pressing hard against his fingers. As he looked at the tools, a sense of determination overcame him. They weren't just for carpentry anymore; they were weapons, a last line of defense in case that entity returned.

He strode through the house, checking every door and window, hammer in one hand and crowbar in the other. The house was empty, but the weight of an unseen threat hung in the air. He glanced at the boarded-up pantry door, feeling his pulse quicken. The boards were still holding, but they didn't reassure him as much as they should have. The cat stepped out into the hallway, his wide-open eyes following David's every move, as if he too could feel the tension. He meowed softly, curling up at David's feet, a strange comfort in the midst of this uncertainty. Throwing one last glance around, David headed into the living room, still holding the hammer and crowbar. He didn't want to take any chances.

David sat in the living room, tensing his entire body as the clock on the wall struck midnight with its haunting beat. Each strike seemed louder than usual, echoing through the quiet house. He gripped the hammer tighter in his hand and clutched the crowbar with his other hand. He braced himself for the worst, fully expecting the horrors of the night before to return. Seconds crept by, turning into long, agonizing minutes. David's heart pounded frantically as he surveyed the room, shifting his gaze from one window to another and to the hallway leading to the pantry. The cat sat warily at his feet, eyes wide and ears twitching, as if sensing the same anticipation.

But nothing happened.

The house was quiet. No eerie sounds came from the walls, no knocking came from behind the door, and no ominous reflections stared back at him. The oppressive silence that had previously filled the house was gone, replaced by a silence that seemed almost... normal. David frowned, feeling uneasy. The silence had gotten worse. After all the horrors he'd witnessed, the idea that the house could just go quiet, as if none of this had ever happened, seemed wrong-as if something lurked beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to strike. Thoughts raced through his mind: Was it really over? Had he won? Or was this the calm before something even worse?

He glanced at the clock again. 12:15. Fifteen minutes had passed, and still nothing. David loosened his grip on the hammer, but didn't put it down. The cat meowed quietly, as if sensing his tension had eased. The house that had been a source of terror to him now seemed like a puzzle he couldn't solve. The absence of any threat made him question everything. Maybe, just maybe, it really was over for today.

David sat on pins and needles until the clock struck three in the morning. The tension in his body began to slowly subside as he realized that, unlike the previous night, nothing significant seemed to be happening tonight. The ominous calm had persisted for hours and the house was quiet, as if the threat had passed or never existed. He took a deep breath, rubbing his tired eyes. His brain had been working feverishly since midnight, but now the fatigue from sleepless nights was starting to weigh on him more and more. Deciding it was safe enough for now, he got up from his chair, his muscles stiff from sitting for so long, and went to the car to get the pillow and blanket he had left there.

Back in the living room, David spread the blanket on the couch and put the pillow at one end. However, he dared not let his guard down completely. Carefully, he shoved the hammer under the cushion and the crowbar under the couch so that he could easily reach it. These tools gave him a sense of security, a small comfort in case whatever was chasing him decided to return. Finally laying down, David felt the fatigue come over him. The blanket was a little rough and the couch wasn't as comfortable as he would have liked, but it didn't matter. The events of the last two days had worn him out. His eyelids grew heavy, and despite all caution, he soon drifted into sleep. The house remained silent for the time being, watching the events unfold.

David awoke to the soft but insistent poking of the cat, its gentle meow signaling that it was time to start the day. He opened his eyes, still sleepy after a sleepless night, and looked around the living room. Sunlight was already streaming through the curtains, casting long rays on the floor. The clock on the wall read 8:43 am. Stretching, he sat down on the couch, still keeping the hammer under his pillow and the crowbar under the couch. In the morning light, the house seemed calm, almost peaceful. No strange sounds, no ominous reflections - just the quiet hum of a house waking up. David stood up and walked cautiously through the house, making his usual checks. The mirrors remained closed and the pantry door was still securely boarded up. He allowed himself to relax, feeling that, at least for the moment, the nightmare was over. His nerves gradually calmed as he realized that everything seemed to be in its proper place.

The cat watched David expectantly as he headed for the bathroom. He stood under the hot shower for a long time, letting the water wash away the tension of the last few days. The familiar washing routine was oddly soothing, almost like a return to normalcy. Finished, he wiped himself down and dressed, feeling a little more like himself. Heading for the kitchen, David felt his stomach rumble with hunger. The cat meowed in unison, as if to remind him that breakfast was long overdue. Smiling to himself, he opened the refrigerator, going to feed himself and his persistent feline companion. For the first time in many days - this morning seemed normal, as if the strange events of the past had been a bad dream. But he knew not to let his guard down completely.

После завтрака Дэвид откинулся на спинку знакомого дивана в гостиной, его his gaze wandered to the cat that had suddenly become his companion. The fluffy white cat stretched lazily on the floor, its eyes half-closed, seemingly indifferent to everything around it. David laughed softly, realizing that now this cat might be a part of his life forever. He thought back to his parents, wondering if they had cared for the cat before they disappeared. Perhaps it belonged to them and he just didn't know it. Not knowing the cat's name tormented him. He felt a strange sense of duty that he should give this creature a real name that would suit him. - "Okay, little guy, we need to decide what to call you," David pondered aloud. He began calling out names, trying out different intonations, hoping that at least one of them would pique the cat's interest.

- "Fluffy?"

Nothing. The cat blinked, completely unimpressed.

- "Snowball?"

The cat yawned. David sighed, leaning back in his chair. "A ghost? The moon?". The cat still showed no signs of concern, as if he was deliberately ignoring all attempts. For a while, David continued to toss around random names, increasingly doubtful of how this cat would react, if at all. - "You're picky, aren't you?" - he muttered with a grin. He was silent for a moment, taking an exaggeratedly deep breath before asking," 'How about... Felix?'. At the sound of that name, the cat finally hissed, raising its head slightly before letting out a soft, determined meow. David raised an eyebrow in surprise. - "Felix, huh? So that's the one?". The cat blinked and meowed quietly again, as if to confirm that the name suited him. - "Well then Felix, let's get acquainted, I'm David." Felix the cat stretched again, making himself comfortable. They seemed to have reached an understanding for the first time.

Today David had made the decision to go to the bank, something he'd been putting off since he'd moved into this house. He wanted to find out what had happened to his parents' accounts, hoping to get some closure or at least get a clearer picture of what they had left behind. After waiting his turn at the counter, he finally met with the bank manager. The man greeted him with a polite smile, briefly explaining that he expected David to make inquiries about the accounts. After a few keystrokes on the computer, the manager turned the screen to David and informed him of his remaining balance.

- "As of today, Mr. David, the total amount remaining in your parents' accounts is $64,478.37."

David blinked, stunned for a moment by the figure. It wasn't a huge fortune, but it was enough to ease some of his financial worries. He felt a wave of relief wash over him - he had less to worry about money now. Combined with his own savings, he quickly did the math in his mind and realized that he had a total of $89,156.07 at his disposal. A comfortable cushion. As he walked out of the bank, the weight of financial uncertainty lifted from his shoulders. While there were still so many unanswered questions about his parents' disappearance, at least now he knew he had the resources to support himself and perhaps even delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding their lives.

As he left the bank and sat in the driver's seat of his car, David exhaled slowly, thoughts swarming in his head. The soothing sound of the engine starting didn't help him deal with the growing list of tasks in his head. He had some money now, but that meant the real solutions were just beginning. He couldn't afford to be complacent. Above all, he couldn't let his guard down. The events of the past few days had shaken him deeply. Even though nothing had happened last night, David wasn't foolish enough to assume that the creepy incidents in his house had stopped for good. The strange messages, the blood red door, the creature trying to break free - it all felt like a constantly looming threat. He made a mental note to keep checking the house at night, especially the mirrors and the boarded up pantry door. Whatever was haunting him at home wasn't gone yet, and he needed to be vigilant.

But there were other things bothering him. The neighbors. He hadn't spoken to any of them since he'd moved here, but maybe they knew something about his parents' disappearance. Maybe someone had seen or heard something unusual that night. It was unlikely, but it was worth investigating. And if that led nowhere, he'd look into the hospital records - to see if there had been any accidents or strange occurrences that might explain their sudden disappearance. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more than a simple disappearance behind it.

In addition to being mysterious, the house itself demanded attention. If he was going to live in it, it had to feel like home. David thought about renovations-new wallpaper, a fresh coat of paint, maybe even tidying up the yard. He wanted to rid the house of its creepy atmosphere. The thought of ripping off the old wallpaper seemed almost symbolic, as if he were peeling away layers of secrets the house had been hiding for years. The rest of the cases he would deal with as they came in. Further actions would depend on circumstances, but for now he felt he had a plan. He had the resources, the will, and most importantly, the reason to stay here - to get to the truth and make this house his own again. Turning the key in the ignition, David glanced in the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of Felix watching him from the passenger seat as if he were the silent interlocutor of his thoughts. He smiled slightly and pulled out of the parking lot, heading back toward home.

As David entered the house, an uneasy feeling swept over him. Something was wrong. At first he couldn't figure out what it was - everything looked just as he'd left it. The door to the pantry, securely boarded up, seemed untouched. The mirror in the hallway was still closed. But the eerie sensation enveloped him like a cold fog. Instinctively, David headed for the bathroom, where he could feel the tension rising with every step. As soon as he opened the door, his heart dropped. The rag that had been used to cover the mirror was now lying on the floor. The mirror itself was shattered - its once reflective surface now split into jagged shards that dotted the sink, glinting ominously in the dim light of the bathroom.

But it wasn't just the broken mirror that made his blood run cold.

There, on the floor next to the sink, lay his old baby doll that he hadn't seen in years. It was an heirloom from his childhood, something his parents had kept hidden deep in the attic. The sight of it seemed like a warning, as if something - or someone - had placed it there intentionally. David's breathing quickened as he gingerly reached for the discarded rag. He couldn't bring himself to look directly into the shards of the broken mirror for fear of what he might see reflected in it. His thoughts darted around, remembering the reflection of David's angry "other" from the previous nights. What if someone was watching him through the cracks? With trembling hands, he picked up the rag and carefully covered the shards, each one crunching quietly under the cloth. He felt his insides tighten as his gaze fell on the doll. Why was she here? And why now?

The doll, made of old, worn rags, rested in David's hands, limp and frighteningly familiar. When he took a closer look at it, one detail caught his eye: a shard of mirror was embedded in the doll's belly, piercing the fabric like an improvised weapon. A strange chill ran down his spine as he slowly pulled the shard out, its sharp edge gleaming in the dim light. His thoughts were racing. What did this mean? Why had the shard been stuck in the doll?

Before David could fully comprehend the disturbing scene, the silence was broken by an eerie notification sound coming from a strange black phone. David's heart jumped as he pulled it from his pocket. A new message had arrived. "Someone was trying to escape and someone was trying to stop."

David stared at the screen, his pulse racing. The encrypted message seemed a mystery, but its subtext was dark and sinister. His thoughts immediately returned to David's reflection of the "other" David in the mirror, the evil grin, the strange presence that seemed to lurk just beyond the glass. "Someone was trying to escape..." Could it be that the reflection - the dark version of him - was trying to break free from the mirror? Wasn't that why the mirror shattered, as if something was tearing its way out? But what about the doll? He looked at it again, the mirror shard still gleaming in his hand. - ...And someone was trying to stop it. Could this tattered, forgotten childhood toy have been something more than it seemed? Did it have anything to do with stopping the creature trapped in the mirror? Was it some kind of defense? Various theories were swirling around in David's head. It was a strange and disturbing thought, but in the context of everything that had happened, it seemed possible. Perhaps, in some twisted way, the doll had been placed there intentionally to prevent the dark reflection from appearing. The shard in his stomach - was it some kind of symbol, or perhaps a last-ditch attempt to contain an evil force? For the first time in days, David felt the realization creep up on him that he was caught up in something far more dangerous than he could have imagined.

Determined to deal with this disturbing situation, David pushed aside his churning thoughts and concentrated on practical action. The broken mirror, the shards of which still gleamed ominously, was carefully reassembled. He put the shards into a sturdy box, making sure all the pieces were in place. Then he went out into the yard, choosing a secluded spot away from the house. He dug a small hole, the ground under his hands was cold and damp, and carefully buried the remains of the mirror. The fact that they were covered with earth seemed like a symbolic gesture, a way of making sure that the danger they posed would not threaten anyone else.

With that task completed, David returned to the house, quietly relieved. Daylight was softly streaming through the windows, casting a warm glow over the living room. As he sank into the cushions of the familiar cozy couch, the cat nestled snugly beside him. His attention shifted back to the ragged doll. Her presence was a source of deep unease, but he felt a strange sense of duty toward her. He scrutinized the doll's worn fabric, noting the finesse of the seams and the damage she had sustained. A shard of glass had left a significant gash, and the doll's formerly bright rags were now frayed and discolored. David remembered his mother's sewing lessons, a skill he hadn't used in years but still remembered with some clarity. He pulled a needle and thread from his desk drawer and constructed a small workstation on the coffee table. The work of fixing the doll was almost therapeutic for him. As he worked, David felt more and more connected to the doll, as if by repairing it he was somehow correcting the imbalance and disorder that had taken root in the house. The rhythmic motion of the needle and thread was soothing, creating a calming routine amidst the chaos. The doll, once a symbol of fear, began to take on a new meaning - a sign of his desire to understand and confront the mysteries around him.

The torn edges were neatly mended, and though the doll was far from perfect, it seemed whole again. David placed the doll on the table, her gaze now less disturbing to him, and allowed himself to reflect a little. With the doll repaired and the broken mirror buried, David felt he had some degree of control over the disturbing events that had occurred. He hoped that these actions might provide some respite from the dark forces that seemed to lurk beyond his comprehension. For now, he decided to focus on the present, finding solace in the familiar routine and preparing himself for whatever came next.

After a light lunch, David decided to head to the local hospital, hoping to find some clues that might shed some light on his parents' mysterious disappearance. The hospital, a large, practical building with sterile white walls and buzzing daylight bulbs. He was greeted at the front desk by a young woman with a kind but tired expression. After explaining his situation, she nodded and quickly typed something on a keypad. "Yes, I see that your parents were frequent visitors here," she said, glancing at him with a tinge of concern. "Interestingly, they were often seen consulting with one of our psychiatrists."

David's heart raced at this revelation. Did his parents see a psychiatrist often? This was new information to him. - "Do you know the name of this psychiatrist or where I can find him?" - He asked, trying to keep his voice steady. The receptionist nodded and explained the directions to the psychiatrist's office. "Doctor. Michael Harris. His office is on the second floor, in room 207. You should be able to find him there, although he may be busy with appointments. I'd suggest calling ahead if you want to make sure he's available." Thanking her, David headed for the elevator, questions and concerns swarming in his mind. The prospect of learning more about his parents' recent actions filled him with hope and trepidation at the same time. What could they have discussed with the psychiatrist so often? And why had they kept this information from him?

David went up to the second floor and followed the signs to office 207. The hallway was quiet, lined with doors leading to various offices and counseling rooms. He found Dr. Harris's office and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. A moment later, he heard a calm voice from inside. "Come in."

David opened the door and entered the office, which was filled with warm, muted tones and a sense of calm professionalism. Dr. Harris, a middle-aged man with graying hair and a calm authoritative air, looked up from behind his desk.

- "Hello, I'm David Newgate," he began, trying to keep his voice steady. - "I'm here about my parents. I recently inherited their house and I'm trying to find out more about their recent visits here." A look of concern and curiosity appeared on Dr. Harris' face. "Yes, I remember your parents. They were here quite often in the last few months before they disappeared. How can I help you?"

David sat down across from the psychiatrist, his brain working feverishly as he prepared to delve into the unknown details of his parents' last days. David took another look at Dr. Michael Harris. He was a man in his early forties, with distinguished yet approachable manners. His hair, which was a mixture of gray and dark brown, was neatly trimmed, and his face showed the marks of years spent listening to and analyzing others. His eyes were a soft, thoughtful brown color in which deep understanding and empathy shone through. He wore a tailored gray suit that fit him well, complemented by a blue tie that added brightness to his otherwise discreet outfit. His posture was straight but relaxed, giving the impression of calm professionalism. Dr. Harris' hands were confident and precise as he adjusted his glasses, showing off the small silver-rimmed spectacles that sat on his nose. Overall, he presented the image of a man who was both competent and compassionate, accustomed to handling delicate and complex situations with care.

Dr. Harris gave David a calm, measured look. "Actually, your parents were quite healthy, both physically and mentally. They weren't patients themselves, but they were involved in another capacity. They counseled on specific cases, often acting as intermediaries between people with psychological problems and appropriate medical care."

David frowned, puzzled by this explanation. "But why would they do that? They didn't have any medical training. What exactly was their role?"

Dr. Harris leaned back in his chair, carefully considering his words. "Your parents were well regarded in certain circles for their intuition and understanding of people's problems. They had a unique ability to connect with people on a personal level, which allowed them to effectively determine when someone needed professional help. Their involvement was more about facilitating access to care rather than giving medical advice themselves."

David was thinking feverishly. "So they were more like... counselors?"

"Exactly," Dr. Harris confirmed. "They had an uncanny gift for recognizing when someone was struggling and needed more than sympathy. They played a crucial role in guiding these people to appropriate treatment, using their personal insight and connections."

David's confusion increased. "But why didn't they ever tell me about this? And why were they so involved in this particular area?"

Dr. Harris sighed, his expression becoming thoughtful. "Your parents were reserved people and preferred to separate their work from their personal lives. They probably didn't want to burden you with details or worry you. As for their involvement, they had their own reasons, but they were deeply committed to helping others. Sometimes people find fulfillment in unexpected ways."

David listened to Dr. Harris' words, trying to piece together the fragments of his parents' lives that had now become a puzzle. "I appreciate you taking me in and sharing this information with me. Can you tell me anything specific about their last job or any people they were particularly fond of?"

Dr. Harris shook his head gently. "I'm afraid I can't give details of specific cases due to confidentiality. However, I can tell you that your parents were respected and their contributions were valued. If you have any questions, you can call my number." - Dr. Harris handed over a business card.

David nodded, feeling a mixture of relief and disappointment. At least he knew his parents were okay, but the mystery of their involvement in the case and their disappearance remained unsolved. As David was leaving Dr. Harris's office, a sudden voice called out to him. "One more thing Mr. Newgate," said Dr. Harris, and there was a note of insistence in his voice. - "Our last conversation concerned an abandoned mental hospital on the outskirts of the city. I don't have specific details, but your parents were somehow connected to the place. I don't know what led them there, but perhaps this information will help you."

David thanked Dr. Harris, feeling a rush of curiosity and misgivings. As he left the hospital, questions about the abandoned mental hospital swarmed in his mind. The thought of his parents being associated with such a place made him uneasy. Why had they gotten involved in this? What could they have been looking for or trying to discover? Getting into his car, David drove home, a sense of urgency growing in him with every mile. The abandoned mental hospital was now the primary target of his investigation. As he paced the streets, he pondered his options, wondering if the answers he sought could be hidden in this desolate, forgotten place. When David returned home, he realized he needed to investigate further. The eerie connection between his parents and the hospital intrigued and puzzled him in equal measure. He decided to gather more information about the hospital, hoping it would help put together the missing pieces of the puzzle surrounding his parents' disappearance. The sun was setting, casting long shadows on the house as David prepared for his next steps. The abandoned mental hospital was taking up more and more space in his thoughts, a dark and mysterious element in the unfolding story of his parents' lives and the strange events that had surrounded him since their disappearance.

As the day drew to a close, David prepared for what had become his evening ritual. As midnight approached, he positioned himself in the living room, placing the hammer and crowbar by his side. He stood guard in front of the pantry, listening intensely for any sign of disturbing events that disturbed him. The hands of the clock were slowly approaching twelve, the minutes counting down in a measured rhythm. David's anticipation and anxiety were palpable, but as the seconds passed, the night remained eerily quiet. There were no strange sounds, no ominous messages or supernatural disturbances-just the silence of the house and the soft, rhythmic purring of the cat curled up next to him.

The cat, sensing David's tension, soothed him with its presence. Its warm, gentle purring provided a pleasant contrast to the gloomy atmosphere. David found some comfort in the cat's company, which made the hours of waiting more bearable. Midnight came and passed without incident, and silence reigned in the house. At that moment it seemed that David's vigilance was unnecessary. But he remained vigilant, knowing that the mysterious nature of his parents' disappearance and the strange events in the house required constant attention.

David awoke in the soft morning light, experiencing a rare sense of calm. After two nights spent without any anxiety, his body and mind were beginning to recover from the strain. A restful sleep on the couch had worked wonders, bringing back the sense of normalcy that had been elusive over the past few days. Deciding to attend to more pressing matters before delving into the mystery of the abandoned mental hospital, David decided to focus on his parents' personal environment. There was an urgent need to sort through their belongings, make sense of their affairs, and piece together all the clues about their lives and what may have led to their disappearance. With redoubled energy, David set about systematizing and researching various aspects of his parents' lives. He methodically went through their personal belongings, financial records and correspondence. His goal was to identify any potential insights or information that might explain their sudden absence or provide a clearer picture of their activities and connections.

In tackling this task, David hoped to find something that would bridge the gap between his parents' ordinary lives and the strange events that had occurred. Once he felt he had a clear picture of their surroundings, he would turn his attention to investigating the abandoned mental hospital, guided by Dr. Harris' cryptic hints. For now, David focuses on the task at hand, determined to unravel the mysteries surrounding his parents before embarking on the next chapter of this disturbing journey.