It was a chilly October night, the kind where the wind howled through the trees and the moon cast an eerie glow on everything it touched. I had just moved to Willow Creek, a small town known for its quaint charm and haunted history. Halloween was approaching, and with it came stories of the old Wright house, an abandoned mansion on the outskirts that everyone whispered about. I was intrigued. My friends, however, were hesitant. “You shouldn’t go there, Max,” my friend Lucy warned, her brow furrowed. “They say it’s cursed.” “Cursed?” I scoffed. “It’s just an old house. I’ll be fine.” That night, armed with nothing but a flashlight and a sense of adventure, I made my way to…