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It was a beautiful summer day when my friends and I decided to explore the abandoned house on Elm Street. We had heard rumours that it was haunted, but we didn't believe in ghosts and thought it would be a fun adventure.
As soon as we stepped inside, however, we knew something was off. The air was thick and musty, and the silence was deafening. We made our way through the living room, which was filled with old furniture covered in dusty sheets, and headed towards the stairs.
That's when we heard it – a faint whispering coming from upstairs. We froze, unsure of what to do, but eventually curiosity got the better of us and we slowly made our way up the stairs.
As we reached the top, the whispering grew louder and more distinct. It sounded like a woman's voice, but we couldn't make out what she was saying. We followed the sound down the hallway and towards a closed door.
With trembling hands, we pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was empty, except for an old rocking chair in the corner. As soon as we entered, the whispering stopped.
Suddenly, the chair began to rock back and forth on its own, and we all screamed in terror. We tried to leave, but the door wouldn't budge – it was like it was locked from the outside.
As we frantically searched for a way out, we heard the whispering again, louder this time. It sounded like it was coming from right behind us. We turned around, but there was no one there.
Then we saw her – a ghostly woman in a white dress, hovering in the air in front of us. She had a look of sadness and desperation on her face, and we knew she was the source of the whispering.
We were trapped in that room with her for what felt like hours, until finally, the door creaked open and we were able to escape. We never went back to the haunted house on Elm Street again, but the memory of that ghostly encounter still haunts me to this day.