The chair That demands a Life

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Chapter 6: The Artist Who Never Left

Aanya didn’t sleep.

Not even for a second.

The chair remained in the corner of her room.

Silent.

Watching.

Every time she looked at it, her chest tightened.

It didn’t move.

It didn’t speak.

But it waited.

Morning came, but it brought no relief.

Only one thought stayed in her mind—

This has to end.

“If it was made…” Aanya whispered, staring at the chair,

“then it can be destroyed.”

That was her only hope.

By afternoon, Aanya returned to the abandoned house.

This time—not as a victim.

But searching for answers.

The place felt colder than before.

Heavier.

She walked slowly through the broken rooms, her eyes scanning everything.

Old furniture.

Rotting walls.

Forgotten memories.

Then—

She found it.

A small wooden door, half-hidden behind a torn curtain.

It creaked open.

Inside was a narrow room.

Dust covered everything.

But in the center—

A table.

And on it—

An old journal.

Aanya’s hands trembled as she picked it up.

The pages were yellowed.

Fragile.

She opened it.

The handwriting was messy.

Uneven.

Almost… desperate.

“They come to me, asking for their futures…”

“They beg. They cry. They offer anything…”

Aanya’s breath slowed.

“So I gave them what they wanted.”

“I carved it into the chair.”

Her fingers tightened.

“But the visions… they were never enough.”

“They always wanted to change what they saw.”

Aanya whispered, “Just like me…”

The pages grew darker.

The ink heavier.

“A future must be paid for.”

“So I made a rule.”

“A life… for a life.”

Her heart pounded.

“But something went wrong…”

The next line was scratched into the page violently.

“IT CHOSE FOR ME.”

Aanya froze.

“I no longer control it.”

“It decides.”

“It watches.”

The room grew colder.

“And now… it will never let me leave.”

Aanya’s breath caught.

“What do you mean… leave…?”

A sudden chill ran down her spine.

Slowly—

She turned around.

The room was no longer empty.

A figure stood in the corner.

Thin.

Still.

Watching.

Its face was unclear…

But its eyes—

Dark.

Endless.

Aanya stumbled back. “Who… who are you?”

Silence.

Then—

A voice.

Not from the shadow.

From everywhere.

“The one who created it.”

Aanya’s heart stopped.

“The artist…?”

The figure didn’t move.

“I gave it purpose.”

“It gave me eternity.”

Her voice shook. “Then stop it! You made it—you can end this!”

For the first time—

The figure moved.

Slowly stepping forward.

“I cannot.”

Terror filled her completely.

“Why?!”

The figure’s voice turned hollow.

“Because I am part of it now.”

The walls creaked.

The air grew heavy.

“And soon…”

It pointed at her.

“So will you be.”

Aanya’s blood ran cold.

“No… I won’t let that happen…”

The figure tilted its head.

“You already started.”

Suddenly—

The journal slipped from her hands.

The room spun.

And in that moment—

Aanya saw something.

Not the future.

The past.

People sitting on the chair.

Screaming.

Crying.

Begging.

And behind every one of them—

The same shadow.

Watching.

Choosing.

Aanya fell to her knees, gasping.

“It’s not the chair…” she whispered.

Her voice trembled as the truth finally broke through—

“It’s something inside it.”

The house fell silent again.

The figure was gone.

But the truth remained.

This was never just a cursed object.

It was a trap.

And she was already inside it.

69Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡDNFspWVz79
69Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡUIuCaOXtMz

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