As I stood before the iron gates of the abandoned mansion, a chill crept along my skin. The breeze was icy, and every instinct urged me to turn back. My family and friends had warned me not to set foot in this place, but curiosity pressed me forward. The mansion had once been the pride of the town, alive with music and laughter. It belonged to a wealthy trader who lived there with his wife, son, and daughter. Then the wheel of fortune, unfortunately, moved in ways no lesser god would dare: first, his daughter—a cute, talkative, and tall girl—was taken by death. About a week later, grief overwhelmed the mother, and she passed away. The wheel did not stop there; just a few days after, it moved mercilessly to call his son to join his mother and sister, leaving the father utterly shattered. Some whispered of curses, others of restless spirits. Overwhelmed by grief, the trader left, never to return. Since then, the mansion had been left to rot, its windows dark, its walls cloaked in silence.
I pushed the gates open, their rusty hinges shrieking like a warning. The path was tangled with weeds, and broken statues leaned crookedly against the ground. My heart pounded as I climbed the steps to the entrance. The great oak door groaned under my hand before giving way, releasing a breath of stale air. Ah! A feeling of devastation washed over me—how life, at times unwillingly, forces you to witness what the mundane eye had never imagined. A column of dust rushed at me, forcing a cough. It floated in pale shafts of light that leaked through cracked shutters, mirroring my hesitation—whether to give up or to face the challenge. The walls, once carved with beautiful designs, were scarred and fading—a reminder of life’s harsh lessons. A chandelier hung above me, its crystals dulled with cobwebs. Its impassive chains barely drew my attention, my heart pounding too loudly. Then, like an unruly pulse, they swayed as if moved by an unseen hand. Furniture stood like forgotten sentinels, draped in thick sheets of grey.
I took out my torch and swept its beam across the gloom. Each corner revealed more decay: a child’s toy overturned on the floor, a broken lamp lying on its side, and the remains of a dining table half-collapsed under the weight of dust—with me, the most unfortunate to witness it all, a part of the ruin. The gust outside had begun to stir, rattling the windows and filling the air with the low growl of thunder. Steeling myself, I climbed the grand staircase, my footsteps echoing in the stillness. I could feel the thump of my heart and the looming shadows of silence. The marble steps, once polished, were treacherous under my feet, slick with dust. Dust seemed to narrate its own tale of neglect. A sudden crack of thunder made me falter, and my foot slipped. Pain shot up my leg as I stumbled, scraping against the cold stone—a situation in which one could only hope to find their way out of this mysterious place. Warm blood began to seep into my shoe, leaving a trail of red behind me. I added a stroke of colour to this mysterious canvas.
I forced myself upward, breath shallow, eyes watering from the sting. The corridor ahead stretched into darkness, each door ajar as if waiting. I staggered forward, clutching my injured leg, until my strength gave out. Collapsing onto the floor, I felt the cold marble press against my cheek. Then it came. Through the haze of pain and fear, a sudden brilliance pierced the darkness. A beam of light, pure and blinding, shone across my face. For a moment, it felt as though the mansion itself had exhaled, revealing its secret. My eyes blurred, consciousness slipping away, but my last thoughts were clear: I recognized myself in the light I had been searching for.
Name: Aiman Fatima,
Grade: 10 Diamond
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