The chair and table sat abandoned in the darkened ruins of the old house for weeks, gathering dust and the whispers of passing wind. Strangers avoided the property, and even stray animals scurried past, unnerved by the lingering sense of dread. But fate has a way of luring the unsuspecting.
One morning, an antique dealer named Mr. Sharma arrived with a battered truck. He was a man in his late fifties with a thick mustache and eyes that had seen enough hardship to make him pragmatic rather than superstitious. Where others saw shadows, he saw opportunity.
The furniture, though scarred with age, held craftsmanship that was unmistakable. The ornate carvings of vines and serpentine figures twisted across the wood in grotesque but strangely beautiful patterns. To Mr. Sharma, they were not frightening, only rare. He pried the chair and table from the dust, loaded them onto his truck, and drove away, humming as if he had just struck gold.
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