AI Wrote a Story With a Twist

Rain lashed against the windows, the only sound besides the rhythmic tick of the grandfather clock.

Sarah huddled deeper into the armchair, her book forgotten in her lap.

A sudden, deafening crack echoed through the house, followed by an eerie silence.

Fear prickled at Sarah's skin.

Grabbing a flashlight, she crept towards the source of the sound - the attic door hanging ajar.

With trembling fingers, she pushed it open.

A single bare bulb cast long, distorted shadows across the dusty room.

In the center, a large, ornately carved chest lay overturned, its contents spilled onto the floor.

Sarah gasped, her heart pounding against her ribs.

Nestled amongst the moth-eaten clothes was a porcelain doll, its head cracked open, revealing a glint of metal beneath.

It wasn't a doll's eye, but a tiny camera, recording everything she had just done.