When my family and I moved into the old house in Charleston, we were captivated by its historic charm. But soon, strange things started happening—footsteps echoing from the attic at night, doors slamming shut on their own, and an icy chill that seemed to follow us. One night, I saw a shadowy figure by my bed that vanished when I screamed, and my brother Daniel admitted he had been hearing things too. My mom tried to dismiss it all as our imaginations, but when we found old letters in the attic that uncovered a tragic past, we realized the house held more than just history—it held secrets, and maybe even spirits.
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