igl_tanjiro

In the quiet village of Darnmoor, nestled among misty woods and crumbling cobblestones, stood an ancient mansion long abandoned—Harrowick House. Generations had passed since anyone dared step inside. Locals whispered about it, claiming the house was cursed, that it “fed” on those foolish enough to disturb its sleep.

But Nora didn't believe in curses.

A curious and determined journalist, she’d come to Darnmoor to investigate the mystery surrounding Harrowick House for her blog. Armed with a flashlight, camera, and recorder, she crossed the rusted gates as the sun dipped beneath the fog-drenched hills.

The air grew still.

Inside, the house reeked of decay. Broken furniture, tattered curtains, and shattered glass littered the floor. Nora began recording.

“October 13th. Entered Harrowick House. Locals say no one who entered ever came out... But I plan to change that.”

She moved cautiously through the dust-choked halls. The wallpaper peeled like skin, and every floorboard groaned beneath her boots. As she entered the main corridor, she noticed something odd—seven identical wooden doors lined the hallway.

Each had a bronze number: 1 to 7.

Nora opened Door 1.

A small room. Empty, except for a child’s doll sitting in the corner. She stepped closer. The doll’s head snapped toward her.

She gasped and staggered back. But when she looked again, the doll was still.

Shaken, she recorded, “Room one—disturbing… hallucination? Maybe.”

She tried Door 2.

Inside, the walls were covered in old newspapers. Blood smeared across headlines like "Family Vanishes Without a Trace" and "The House That Eats the Living." A mirror hung crookedly. As she glanced at her reflection, she saw a pale woman standing behind her.

She turned. No one was there.

Breath trembling, Nora pressed on.

Room 3 was pitch black. Her flashlight flickered violently as if resisting her entry. Whispers echoed inside—indistinct, layered, urgent.

"Nora..."
She froze. No one in the village knew her name.

She shut the door and backed away, heart hammering. Her recorder now played static.

She reached for Door 4. This one was locked. Beneath the number, someone had carved the word: "REGRET."

“Regret what?” she murmured, fingers tracing the deep scratches.

Then, from behind her—creak.

She spun around.

The doll from Room 1 now sat at the hallway’s end.

Impossible.

Nora rushed forward and kicked it away, only to find the hallway had subtly changed. The wallpaper was newer. The dust—gone. She was no longer in a ruin, but a preserved house.

"You're inside now," a voice whispered.

She turned back. Doors 5, 6, and 7 still stood.

Compelled by something unseen, she opened Door 5.

Inside was a pristine dining room set for a feast. Turkey, wine, candles... and six empty chairs.

The seventh had her name carved into the wood.

A newspaper lay beside it:
"Nora Halbrook: Missing Journalist Found Dead in Harrowick."
The date was tomorrow.

She stumbled back in horror. The candles snuffed out one by one.

She slammed the door.

“I need to leave—now.”

She bolted for the front door, but it was gone. The entrance hall now had smooth, undecorated walls—no windows, no exit. The house had shifted.

Panic clawed at her chest.

Then, faintly—music.

A lullaby.

It led her to Door 6.

Inside was a nursery. Rocking horses, stuffed bears, a cradle. She stepped forward, drawn toward the crib.

A note lay inside:


“The seventh door is the only way out.
But every door changes you.
You are not who you were.”



Suddenly, the mobile above the crib began spinning wildly. Laughter—her own—filled the room.

She ran out, heart near explosion, slamming the door behind her.

Only one left.

Door 7.

Unlike the others, it was made of blackened iron, cold to the touch. No handle. Just a slit for a key.

Her hand reached into her pocket—there it was. A rusted key she didn’t remember picking up.

The door creaked open on its own.

Inside was a mirror-lined room. No floor or ceiling. Just endless reflections.

She stepped in.

Every mirror showed a version of herself: older, younger, laughing, crying, rotting, bleeding, dead. Each reflection twisted into a grotesque mockery of her.

In the center of the room stood her exact double.

It smiled.

"You're finally ready," it said. "One of us must stay."

Before Nora could scream, her double lunged.

They struggled—mirror glass shattering around them. Reflections screeched, echoed, multiplied.

Then—darkness.



Nora opened her eyes.

She was standing in the hallway. Dusty. Silent.

She stumbled outside, gasping. Morning sunlight bathed the trees. She was alive.

Back at the village, no one believed she survived a night in Harrowick.

They stared strangely as she passed.

That night, she looked into her hotel mirror.

Her reflection… blinked late.

It smiled before she did.

And whispered:
"One of us must stay."



Twist Ending:
The real Nora never made it out.

The house let something else wear her face.

And Harrowick waits quietly… for the next visitor.

6 months ago | [YT] | 0

igl_tanjiro

Sorry guys dopeher ka , live stream end hogaya . Current Gaya tha my bad hai goiizzz abb live karoo zaldii

2 years ago | [YT] | 1

igl_tanjiro

Toh here we go guys , your daily and active live streamer is here , ehe :D

Toh as i said humara , schedule Ane wala hai toh here it is -
Week meh 4 din live hoga Sunday , Monday , Thursday aur Saturday inke time Agee ek post meh baataa dunga on a average hum shayad shaam k 7:30 baje suru karenge ending time baad meh dekhi jayegi 😓🤏🏽.

Thank you guys for supporting keep supporting
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Take some love from your friend tanji 😃❤️

2 years ago | [YT] | 11

igl_tanjiro

TODAYY BOTH LIVESTREAM BE READYY 😉😉

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3 years ago | [YT] | 2

igl_tanjiro

well this channel is dead I guess soo what you want me To stream ? like wanna start again----

3 years ago | [YT] | 1