00:00When Mara finally sold her childhood house, she expected dust, mold, and memories she'd rather
00:05forget. The place had been empty since her parents died, every room sealed and unnervingly quiet.
00:11On her last night there, as rain tapped the windows, she heard footsteps upstairs,
00:16slow, measured pacing in the hallway outside her old bedroom. The realtor insisted no one
00:21else had keys. Searching the attic for the source, she found a loose beam hiding a small notebook.
00:27Inside were pages of neat handwriting describing the house in exact detail. Lights turning on,
00:34doors opening, Mara standing in the kitchen reading the notebook. Her name appeared on
00:38nearly every page. The final entry was dated tomorrow. As she read the last line, the floor
00:44creaked behind her. The sentence ended mid-word, the ink still fresh, as if the writer had just
00:50stood up. Click like and comment, house, for part two.
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