I was greedy for cheap and rented an apartment in a haunted house. When I moved, the manager hesitated to speak.
The neighbor's grandma mysteriously reminded: "Walls have the best memory, so don't answer anything you hear."
My daughter suddenly drew faces on the paper: "My sister in the gray skirt taught me to draw."
Late at night, regular knocking came from the wall: "Knock, knock, knock... Knock, knock..."
I suppressed my fear and responded to the rhythm, and the knocking sound instantly became crazy and violent.
In the bathroom, the daughter pointed to the mirror: "Mom's voice said, 'It hurts.'"
The faucet suddenly spurted out cold water, which was mixed with the guttural sound of my dying breath.
My own weak voice sounded in my ears: In seven days, bad times are coming.
