Cause all of me loves all of you…

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The haunting melody of John Legend’s voice echoed through the abandoned mansion, the record player turning on its own. The music was a cruel reminder of the love that once filled these decaying walls—a love that had turned into a grotesque obsession. As the needle scratched the vinyl, a cold breeze whispered through the dark corridors, carrying the scent of roses long dead. In the flickering candlelight, the shadows seemed to dance to the rhythm, weaving a tale of passion turned perilous.

In the heart of the mansion, a portrait of a beautiful woman hung, her eyes following every movement with an unsettling intensity. Her lips, painted in a hauntingly perfect smile, seemed to murmur the lyrics, echoing the song’s promise and the lover’s descent into madness. For in this house, love was eternal, bound by a curse that no one could escape. Every lover who dared to enter would find themselves lost in a labyrinth of their deepest fears, their most harrowing nightmares, all while the song played on repeat, binding them to a love that could never die, only devour.

A thick fog began to seep through the cracks in the walls, curling around the faded furniture like ghostly fingers. The song played on, its melody now a sinister lullaby. As the fog grew denser, the temperature plummeted, and the air grew heavy with an oppressive weight.

In the dimly lit parlor, Charlotte stood, her breath visible in the icy air. She had come to the mansion seeking the truth behind the rumors, the tales of a love so powerful it defied death itself. But as she took a hesitant step forward, she felt a chill run down her spine. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet, their groans echoing through the vast emptiness.

“Hello?” she called out, her voice trembling. There was no response, only the relentless echo of the song, now almost mocking in its repetition. She moved deeper into the mansion, each room more decayed than the last, filled with relics of a bygone era. The grand piano in the corner, its keys yellowed and cracked, played a discordant note as she brushed past it, as if warning her to turn back.

In the master bedroom, the air was thicker, almost suffocating. The four-poster bed, draped in moth-eaten curtains, seemed untouched by time. A diary lay open on the nightstand, its pages yellowed and brittle. Charlotte picked it up, her hands shaking. The words within told the story of the mansion’s last inhabitants—a couple whose love was as intense as it was destructive.

The entries grew darker with each page, detailing the husband’s growing paranoia and the wife’s increasing fear. The final entry, dated the night of their disappearance, spoke of a pact made in desperation—a promise to be together forever, sealed with blood and dark magic. The husband had believed that their love could conquer death, but the price was far greater than they could have imagined.

As Charlotte read the last words, the room grew colder still, and she felt a presence behind her. Turning slowly, she saw the ghostly figure of the woman from the portrait, her once-beautiful face now twisted in anguish. The woman reached out, her spectral fingers grazing Charlotte’s cheek, leaving a trail of frost.

“Help me,” the ghost whispered, her voice barely audible over the haunting melody. “He won’t let me go.”

Charlotte’s heart pounded in her chest as she backed away, her mind racing. She had to find a way to break the curse, to free the tormented souls trapped within the mansion. But as she turned to leave, the door slammed shut, and the fog thickened, wrapping around her like a shroud.

The song continued to play, its lyrics a chilling reminder of the love that had once been so pure, now twisted into a malevolent force. As Charlotte struggled to find her way out, the shadows closed in, and she realized that she, too, was becoming part of the mansion’s tragic love story—a story that would never end, only repeat, forevermore.

Charlotte’s breaths grew shallow as she stumbled through the darkened corridors, the mansion seeming to shift and twist around her. The fog clung to her skin, and the temperature dropped further, freezing her tears as they fell. She could hear whispers now, echoing through the halls—pleas for help, cries of despair, and sinister laughter that sent chills down her spine.

Desperate to escape, she clutched the diary to her chest, hoping it held the key to breaking the curse. She retraced her steps to the grand staircase, the wooden bannister cold and slick beneath her fingers. As she descended, she saw flickering shadows at the base, figures moving in the dim light of the foyer. Her heart raced as she recognized the spectral forms of the mansion’s previous inhabitants, their faces pale and eyes hollow.

Among them was the ghostly husband, his expression twisted with regret and madness. His eyes locked onto Charlotte’s, and she felt an icy grip on her soul. He raised a hand, pointing toward the library at the far end of the hall. Summoning all her courage, she followed his gesture, the spirits parting to let her pass.

The library door creaked open, revealing a room lined with dusty shelves and ancient tomes. In the center stood a large, ornate mirror, its surface covered in a thin layer of frost. Charlotte approached it cautiously, the whispers growing louder as she neared. She could see her reflection, but it was distorted, as if the mirror itself was alive and watching her.

Suddenly, the image shifted, revealing a hidden compartment behind the mirror. Inside was a small, intricately carved box. Charlotte opened it with trembling hands, finding an old locket and a faded letter. The letter, written in the same hand as the diary, explained the dark ritual the couple had performed—a binding spell meant to ensure their love would endure beyond death.

But the spell had gone horribly wrong. Instead of eternal love, it had trapped their souls in a never-ending cycle of torment. The only way to break the curse was to reunite the locket with the remains of the lovers, buried beneath the mansion’s foundation.

Determined to end the suffering, Charlotte hurried to the basement, the walls closing in around her as if trying to keep her from her goal. The song still played, now a distorted, nightmarish version of its former melody. She found the old, rusted door to the cellar and forced it open, descending into the damp, cold darkness.

In the center of the basement, she found two graves, marked only by crude, weathered stones. She knelt between them, placing the locket on the ground. With a whispered prayer, she recited the words from the letter, hoping it would be enough to free the trapped spirits.

The air grew still, and the song faded to a faint echo. The ground beneath her began to tremble, and she felt a warmth spreading from the locket. The ghostly figures of the husband and wife appeared before her, their faces now peaceful and free of torment. They reached out to each other, their hands meeting in a final, loving touch before they faded into the light.

Charlotte sighed in relief, her heart still racing but now with a sense of peace. She stood and made her way back to the main floor, the mansion now silent and still. As she stepped outside, the first rays of dawn broke through the fog, casting the decaying structure in a golden glow.

She knew she had freed the spirits, but the memory of the haunted melody and the tragic love story would stay with her forever. With a final glance at the mansion, she turned and walked away, the haunting refrain of “Cause all of me loves all of you” echoing softly in her mind, a reminder of the power—and peril—of love.


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