The Brass Key
282 Words
Mira didn’t sleep.
The words on her screen haunted her until dawn.
WE CAN STILL HEAR YOU.
She checked every room in her apartment twice. The doors were locked. The windows were shut. Yet the feeling of being watched refused to leave.
By morning, the strange messages had disappeared from her phone.
No missed calls.
No texts.
Nothing.
It was as if the night had never happened.
She almost convinced herself she had imagined everything—until she noticed muddy footprints outside her front door.
Someone had been there.
Her stomach tightened.
The frightened stranger’s words echoed in her mind.
“Under the steps… the key is still there.”
Against her better judgment, Mira searched the address online. Every result pointed to the same place—a decaying Victorian house on the edge of town. Locals called it Ashcroft House.
Abandoned.
Dangerous.
Cursed.
There were stories about people entering and never returning.
She should have walked away.
Instead, an hour later, she found herself standing before the rusted gate.
The house loomed over her like a silent giant, its broken windows staring back like empty eyes.
The air felt unnaturally cold.
Taking a deep breath, she climbed the cracked stone steps.
Kneeling down, she brushed away years of dirt beneath the bottom step.
Her fingers struck metal.
A small brass key.
The exact key the caller had described.
Before she could pick it up, her phone vibrated.
Unknown Number.
This time, she answered.
“Leave,” the distorted voice ordered.
“They’re already inside.”
A loud creak echoed from the house behind her.
The front door…
which had been tightly shut only seconds before…
was slowly opening on its own.
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