The Brown Bag

The old mansion groaned as I approached the back stairs, a portal to darkness that sent chills down my spine. The torch light , casting twisted shadows on the wall. A cold draft snaked up, carrying whispers of the past.

With a deep breath, I grasped rail, each step up in the silence. The flashlight in my trembling hand barely pierced the gloom, revealing cobwebs and dust swirling in the frigid air. My heart pounded, each beat loud in the oppressive quiet.

Halfway down, engulfed in darkness, the walls seemed to close in. Shadows danced at the edge of my vision, ghostly figures that vanished when I looked directly at them. The air grew heavier, each breath a struggle.

Finally, at the bottom, the flashlight beam fell on the important brown bag, Kept at the corner on the stairs . Relief flooded through me as I snatched it up, but the feeling of unseen eyes lingered. Racing back down the stairs,