Whispers of the Forgotten

The air was thick with the scent of damp wood and something else—something that seemed to whisper in the shadows. It was a place where the living and the dead were never quite apart, where every creak and groan was a story waiting to be told, or a warning to be heeded. The Dormitory's Cursed Collection was such a place, and it was here that students at the local university sought the thrill of the supernatural, the challenge of the unknown, and sometimes, the terror of the cursed.

Ellie had never believed in ghosts. She was a skeptic, a rationalist, a scientist at heart. But when she walked into the old, abandoned dormitory on the edge of campus, something changed. The place was eerie, but it was the collection itself that captivated her—rows of dusty shelves, each crammed with strange, ancient objects that seemed to hum with a malevolent energy.

One item, in particular, caught her eye. It was a small, ornate box, adorned with symbols that she couldn't quite make out. The box was locked, and the key was hanging from a string just above it, out of reach. Ellie, driven by a strange compulsion, stretched out her hand, and with a deft motion, she plucked the key from its hook. The box clicked open with a soft, mechanical sound, and Ellie reached inside to retrieve whatever was within.

What she found was a delicate, intricately carved figurine. The figure was of a woman, her eyes wide with terror, her mouth open in a silent scream. As Ellie held the figurine, she felt a chill run down her spine, but it was nothing she couldn't shrug off. She closed the box and put it in her bag, deciding to leave the dormitory and the cursed collection behind.

But as the days passed, Ellie began to feel a strange connection to the figurine. It was as if it had a will of its own, calling out to her. She found herself drawn to it, unable to resist its pull. At night, she would wake up in a cold sweat, the figurine lying beside her, its eyes watching her every move.

One evening, as she was studying in her room, she felt a sudden, overwhelming sense of dread. The figurine seemed to be glowing faintly, its eyes flickering with a malevolent light. Ellie's heart raced as she reached for it, but it was too late. The figurine's eyes locked onto hers, and a surge of coldness coursed through her veins. She felt a hand grip her shoulder, and she turned to see her own reflection in the mirror, but the face that looked back at her was twisted, contorted with a malevolent joy.

"Welcome, Ellie," the voice echoed in her head. "You have become part of me now."

Terrified, Ellie tried to scream, but no sound would come out. The room began to spin, and she felt herself being pulled into the darkness. The last thing she saw was the figurine, now glowing with an eerie, blinding light, and her reflection in the mirror, now the same twisted, malicious figure that had possessed her.

Days passed, and Ellie's friends and family noticed the changes. She was distant, cold, and unresponsive. Her behavior was strange, her mannerisms odd. It wasn't until one of her friends stumbled upon the Dormitory's Cursed Collection and saw the possessed figurine that the truth was revealed.

The collection's curator, an elderly man with a face lined by years of experience, stepped forward. "That box is cursed," he said, his voice trembling. "It binds the soul of its victim to its own, turning them into a part of its dark history."

Ellie's friends and family fought to save her, but the curse was powerful, and they were outmatched. As Ellie's eyes grew dimmer, her reflection in the mirror turned into the twisted figure once more, and she was consumed by the darkness of the cursed collection.

In the end, the Dormitory's Cursed Collection was closed, and the figurine was buried deep within the earth, where it would remain, a silent sentinel, waiting for its next victim. But Ellie's story lived on, a cautionary tale of the danger of curiosity and the price of ignoring the whispers of the forgotten.