A dark, dilapidated haunted house with glowing red windows in a foggy, dead forest, surrounded by scattered headless and broken dolls.

First-person view of a large, two-story cabin-style house deep within a dead, moonlit forest. The surrounding trees are twisted and dying, with gnarled, jagged branches reaching into the fog-filled night. A stagnant marsh sits nearby, its black water reflecting the pale moonlight and the faint shimmer of mist floating above it. The cabin is decaying but large, likely three bedrooms, and its former charm has long since rotted away. All the windows are shattered, the glass shards still clinging in jagged, dangerous pieces. The wooden exterior is warped, blackened, and cracked with age. Tattered curtains, shredded and barely hanging, sway slowly in the cold wind. A thick, suffocating fog creeps across the ground, wrapping around tree trunks and the base of the cabin. Headless dolls are scattered across the front lawn and pathway — cracked, dirt-stained, and positioned in eerie disarray, as if dropped mid-play decades ago. The entire environment is rendered in tight grayscale, bleak and cold. The only source of color is a vivid, blood red glow radiating from inside the cabin — spilling from every broken window and open doorway, casting long, distorted shadows through the mist. The red light flickers subtly, as if from an unseen, pulsing source within the house. No movement. No visible figures. Just a heavy sense of something watching from inside, waiting. The environment is harsh, sharp, and visually dangerous — full of jagged forms, dark textures, and thick fog that obscures See more