The old building stood at the edge of town, its windows boarded up and its roof sagging like a tired man’s shoulders. It had been abandoned for over thirty years, yet no one seemed to remember exactly when it had stopped being used. Some said it was a school, others a clinic, and a few whispered that it had once been a place where people went to disappear. No one could agree on the truth, but all agreed that no one ever entered it. At first, it was just the children who noticed the strange things. They would pass by on their way home from school and hear faint whispers coming from the empty halls. Sometimes, they swore they saw figures moving behind the cracked glass, or felt a cold draft even in the warmest days. But the adults dismissed them as tricks of the mind, or the result of too much imagination. One autumn evening, a young woman named Elara moved into the town, drawn by the quiet and the promise of solitude. She found a small apartment near the edge of the woods, not far from the old building. Curious, she decided to take a walk one evening to see what lay beyond the trees. As she approached the structure, the air grew colder, and the wind seemed to carry a sound—like someone breathing just out of reach. The door creaked open when she touched it, though there was no visible handle. Inside, the air was thick with dust and the scent of old wood. The walls were covered in faded murals, some depicting scenes of people standing in groups, others of faces that seemed to watch her as she walked. She explored the first floor, finding a dusty library with books that had long since lost their spines. In the back room, she discovered a small table with a single chair. On the table sat a journal, its pages yellowed and brittle. As she flipped through it, she found entries written in an unfamiliar hand, describing events that didn’t seem to match any known history of the town. There were mentions of meetings held in secret, of people who had gone missing, and of a ritual performed beneath the building’s foundation. Elara left the journal behind, feeling an unease she couldn’t explain. But the next day, she found it sitting on her kitchen counter, as if it had never left her hands. The pages had changed—new entries had appeared, describing her own movements, her thoughts, and even the color of her shirt. She tried to burn it, but the flames refused to touch the paper. Days passed, and the building began to exert its influence more strongly. The townspeople started to notice changes. A local baker reported seeing his reflection in the mirror moving without him, while a teacher claimed her students had begun speaking in a language she didn’t understand. The old building was no longer just a place—it was something else, something alive. Elara returned to the building again, this time with a flashlight and a notebook. She walked through the same halls, past the same murals, and found herself in a room she hadn’t seen before. The walls were lined with mirrors, each reflecting a different version of her—some older, some younger, some with eyes that stared back. In the center of the room stood a single chair, and on the floor, a circle of symbols carved into the wood. As she stepped inside the circle, the lights flickered and the temperature dropped. A voice, soft and familiar, whispered her name. She turned, but there was no one there. The walls seemed to pulse, as if they were breathing. The journal appeared in her hands again, and this time, the final page read: "You are not the first. You will not be the last." When she finally emerged, the sun had set, and the town was silent. The buildings around her seemed taller, the streets narrower. She looked down and saw her reflection in a puddle, but the face staring back was not her own. It smiled, then disappeared. No one ever saw Elara again. But sometimes, when the wind blows just right, you can still hear the whispering voices from the old building, calling out to those who dare to listen. And if you're brave enough to step inside, you might find yourself wondering—was it the building that haunted her, or was it something else that had been waiting all along?