The Sketchbook of the Dormitory's Dead

In the heart of a forgotten university town, the dormitory known as the "Dead House" stood as a testament to the university's dark history. It was said that the dormitory had been the site of numerous tragic accidents and mysterious disappearances, and the stories of the lost souls that lingered there had become part of the local folklore.

The dormitory's exterior was a weathered facade, peeling paint and broken windows giving it an eerie appearance. Inside, the halls were silent, save for the occasional creak of a floorboard. It was a place where no student dared to venture, except for those who sought out the thrill of the forbidden.

One such student was Li Wei, a young and ambitious artist with a penchant for the supernatural. Li had heard the tales of the Dead House and was determined to uncover the truth behind its haunting reputation. He had convinced a group of his friends to join him on the quest, each driven by their own reasons to uncover the secrets of the dormitory.

The group entered the Dead House under the cover of night, their flashlights cutting through the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the silence was oppressive. They moved cautiously, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls.

Li, the leader of the group, had brought along a sketchbook that he claimed had been found in the dormitory's old library. The sketchbook was filled with drawings of the students who had once lived there, each one more haunting than the last. Li had read that the sketches were said to capture the essence of the souls trapped within the dormitory, and he believed that by studying them, they might uncover the key to breaking the curse.

As they explored the dormitory, they came across a small, dimly lit room at the end of a hallway. The door was slightly ajar, and a faint whisper seemed to emanate from within. Li pushed the door open, and the room was filled with the scent of old books and dust.

In the center of the room stood a large, ornate desk, and on it lay the sketchbook. Li approached the desk, his fingers trembling as he opened the book. Each page was filled with a drawing of one of the dormitory's lost souls, their eyes wide with terror or sorrow.

Suddenly, the room went dark, and a cold wind swept through the space. The group turned to see the sketches begin to move, the images within the pages coming to life. The figures in the sketches began to walk towards them, their eyes glowing with an eerie light.

The group was paralyzed with fear, their hearts pounding in their chests. Li, the most courageous of the group, reached for the sketchbook, his fingers brushing against the pages. The sketches seemed to react to his touch, their movements growing more aggressive.

"Run!" Li shouted, but it was too late. The sketches were now surrounding them, their figures reaching out, fingers clawing at the air. The group scrambled to escape, but the sketches were relentless, their presence growing stronger with each second.

As they fled the room, Li's grip on the sketchbook loosened. The book slipped from his hands and fell to the floor, the pages fluttering open. One of the sketches, a young woman with eyes full of despair, reached out and grabbed Li by the wrist.

Li felt a sudden chill, and his vision blurred. The sketchbook's pages began to glow with an otherworldly light, and the woman's form seemed to merge with the pages. Li was pulled into the book, his body dissolving into the pages, leaving only his voice echoing through the room.

The group, now in a state of shock, looked at the sketchbook lying on the floor. They knew that Li was trapped within the pages, his spirit bound to the dormitory's cursed sketches. They were left with no choice but to leave the Dead House and seek help.

Back in the present, the group sat on the ground, their faces pale and their hearts heavy. They knew that Li was gone, his spirit forever trapped within the pages of the sketchbook. They had failed to break the curse, and the Dead House would continue to claim its victims.

Days turned into weeks, and the group struggled to come to terms with their loss. They never spoke of the Dead House again, their experiences buried deep within their hearts. But the sketchbook remained, a constant reminder of the night they had entered the dormitory and the terrifying truth that lay within its pages.

The sketchbook of the dormitory's dead had come to life, and it would never rest until it had claimed its final victim.