THE BLACK HOUSE IN THE FOREST
By AI-ChatGPT4o - T.Chr. - Human Synthesis - 18 October 2024
Deep in the heart of an ancient forest, where even sunlight feared to tread, stood a house of blackened wood and twisted spires. Locals whispered of it but dared not venture close.
The structure was an enigma—its rooflines curved unnaturally upward, ending in jagged towers and spires that seemed to scrape the sky. Small, curved windows, like eyes, peered outward, revealing faint glimmers of light from within, though no one had seen a soul enter or leave in decades.
The house stood on a weathered wooden plank terrace, surrounded by a wild, overgrown garden that had long since swallowed the path leading to the door. Twisted trees with claw-like branches leaned toward the house as if drawn to its dark presence. The wind, when it blew through the trees, carried strange sounds—whispers, sometimes screams—though no one knew their source.Legend had it that the house was once the home of a powerful witch, a woman who had made a pact with dark forces in exchange for eternal life.
But like all deals with shadows, there was a price. She was bound to the house, never able to leave its walls, watching the world pass by through those small, curved windows. Her immortality came at the cost of isolation, as every attempt she made to step beyond the terrace caused her to crumble to ash, only to reform inside once more.The forest around the house was said to be cursed. Travelers who strayed too close would lose their way, ensnared in an endless loop of dark woods and eerie silence, forever drawn toward the black witch’s home.
Some claimed to have seen her—a tall, thin figure in a black cloak and pointed hat, standing on the terrace, gazing into the forest as though waiting for something—or someone.One stormy night, a wandering hunter, lost and desperate, stumbled upon the house. He knew the stories but, delirious with exhaustion, believed them to be mere fables. He knocked on the door, seeking shelter. To his surprise, the door creaked open slowly, and there, standing in the doorway, was the witch herself.
Her eyes glowed a faint, sickly green, and her pale face was hidden beneath her hood.She welcomed him in, her voice smooth as silk, offering warmth and food. Too tired to resist, the hunter entered. The house smelled of herbs and ancient wood, and the fire crackled invitingly. Yet something felt wrong. The shadows on the walls moved independently, twisting and writhing as though alive. As the witch prepared a meal, the hunter noticed the small windows seemed to be watching him, their reflections not matching the firelight.
After dinner, the witch told him he was welcome to stay the night. She guided him to a room at the top of a spiraling tower, the windows curved inward like a maw. He fell into a fitful sleep, plagued by nightmares of trees with reaching hands, and the sound of something scraping at the walls outside.In the middle of the night, he awoke to the sound of creaking footsteps. The witch stood by the window, staring out into the forest. Her back was to him, but her reflection in the glass showed her face, twisted into a grotesque smile. She whispered to the night, her voice not meant for mortal ears.
The hunter felt a deep chill as her words clawed at his mind.Terrified, he fled down the twisting stairs, but the house seemed to shift around him. The once familiar hallways stretched into endless corridors, doors leading nowhere. The very walls pulsed with life, breathing, watching. Finally, he stumbled onto the terrace, his heart pounding. The witch followed him, her long fingers outstretched, her eyes glowing brighter.Just as he reached the edge of the terrace, the ground beneath him began to crumble, and dark vines from the forest shot up to ensnare him, pulling him back toward the house.
The witch smiled as she spoke the final words of an ancient spell. His screams echoed through the forest, but no one heard. By morning, the house stood as it always had—silent, brooding, and waiting.The hunter was never seen again, but some say that if you walk by the house on a quiet night, you can hear the faint sound of his footsteps pacing the terrace, forever trapped, just like the witch who had lured him in.And so the house waits, its doors ever open, its cursed mistress bound within, forever seeking the next lost soul to join her in eternal darkness..
