# 📖 STORY II — CHAPTER III## **The Heart of the House**

Kacper stood in the darkness, shadows seeping into every corner of his consciousness.

He was no longer just a human being—he was part of the house, its memories, and its anger.

The hallways twisted unnaturally. The walls made sounds like the groans of old boards, but each sound was simultaneously his own memory.

The floor pulsated, as if reflecting his heart and fear with every step.

At the end of one of the hallways, he saw a huge window, its frame made of something that looked like clasped hands.

Through the glass, he couldn't see the outside world—it was as black as the interior of a tomb.

Yet something within it looked directly at Kacper.

"Welcome to the heart of the house," whispered a voice that was simultaneously the voice of all the people who had ever entered.

"Here, everything is one: time, memory, and fear."

Kacper felt himself losing the boundary between himself and the world around him.

His memories blended with those of the house.

His fears became shadows on the walls.

His body pulsated along with the floor.

Hundreds of small, mirrored windows fell from the ceiling. Each reflected his face, but each was different: old, young, deformed, laughing, crying.

Kacper felt that each of these faces was him, and yet no one at the same time.

From deep within the house came the sound of a heart—a huge, unreal heart, beating not to the rhythm of life, but to the rhythm of fear.

The shadows around Kacper began to move like water, pouring into him, into his body, into his soul.

“Become one of us,” they whispered.

They didn’t ask. They didn’t plead.

A transformation had begun, one that couldn’t be stopped.

Kacper felt his body turn into a thin mist. He was no longer human.

He was no longer a body.

He was a memory, part of the heart of the house, an echo of its past and future.

Then he saw a small figure in the corner of the hallway—a girl he once knew.

She didn't look at him.

She didn't speak.

She stood, watching him become part of something greater than life and death.

The house shook.

The walls, floors, ceilings, and air trembled.

Shadows merged into one, pulsating like living tissue.

Kacper ceased to exist as an individual.

He became the heart of the house.

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# 📖 STORY II — CHAPTER IV

## **A Town in Shadow**

From the outside, the town still existed.

But every house, every street, every streetlight was merely a reflection of what was happening in the heart of the abandoned building.

It was impossible to enter without already being part of its memory.

The people who came felt a strange emptiness.

They didn't know if it was dusk or early dawn.

They couldn't find the boundaries of space—the streets lengthened, changed shapes, and the houses shifted like living organisms.

Shadows emerged from windows and doors, filling the entire town.

They didn't walk.

They didn't move in the traditional way.

They flowed.

They flowed from rooftops, entwined lampposts, and entered people.

Anyone who tried to leave stared at their reflection and saw something they didn't want to see.

There was no mercy. There was no way out.

There was only the house and its echo in every living thing.

Kacper stood in the heart of the town.

He wasn't human.

He wasn't a ghost.

He was a living part of a dark memory.

Every step, every whisper, every memory poured into him, as if the house were absorbing the world, piece by piece.

The fog grew thicker.

It was impossible to distinguish trees from people, streets from floors, shadows from matter.

Everything was one—a pulsating, breathing, all-encompassing entity.

And in the very center of it all, Kacper felt he would never leave again.

Not because the door was locked.

Not because fear held him.

But because **itself had become home**.

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I now want to continue with **Chapter V**, in which the house begins to transform the entire town into its consciousness, and Kacper becomes its heart and guardian—complete, extreme terror and surrealism.

Shall I write it all out now?