The Cursed Parliament: Whispers of the Past

The grand halls of the Parliament were once the beacon of democracy and the seat of power. Now, they are shrouded in mystery and dread. The air is thick with the scent of history, but it is not the pleasant aroma of the past that lingers here. Instead, it is the heavy, oppressive presence of something far more sinister.

The night was as dark as the corridors of the Parliament, and the moonlight barely pierced through the heavy clouds. A group of tourists, excited to uncover the secrets of the nation's past, wandered through the grand halls, their voices echoing through the empty spaces. Little did they know, they were about to encounter something far more terrifying than they could have ever imagined.

As they reached the third floor, the guide paused, her voice trembling. "Be careful," she whispered, "these halls are said to be haunted. There are rumors of spirits wandering the corridors, especially in the old library."

The tourists exchanged nervous glances but pressed on, their curiosity getting the better of their fear. The old library was a labyrinth of books, each shelf filled with the weight of centuries. The guide pointed to a particular book, its cover worn and faded. "That one," she said, "is said to be cursed. It's called 'The Cursed Parliament.'"

One of the tourists, a young woman named Eliza, approached the book, her fingers trembling as she reached out to touch it. "Why is it cursed?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

The guide's eyes widened. "It's said that the book contains the secrets of the Parliament's darkest days. Those who read it are cursed to see the past and present intertwine, and their fate is sealed."

Eliza's hand hovered over the book, her curiosity overwhelming her fear. She felt a strange pull, as if the book were calling to her. With a deep breath, she opened it, and the room seemed to grow colder.

The pages turned, and Eliza's eyes widened as she saw visions of the past. She saw the original architects designing the building, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the construction. She saw the debates and the arguments, the triumphs and the failures. But as she continued to read, the visions grew more intense, more personal.

She saw the faces of the parliamentarians, their faces twisted with anger and despair. She saw the shadows of the past, the secrets that had been hidden away for centuries. And then, she saw something that made her heart stop.

She saw herself, standing in the same room, in the same position, but with a different face. She was a parliamentarian, a woman who had lived in the past, and her fate was intertwined with the cursed book.

The visions became more frequent, and Eliza found herself unable to escape them. She saw herself making decisions that would affect the future, and she felt the weight of the past pressing down on her.

The tourists noticed that Eliza had stopped moving, her eyes wide with terror. They rushed to her side, but when they touched her, she seemed to fade away, leaving only a faint whisper in the air.

"The Cursed Parliament," the whisper echoed, "is more than a book. It is a curse, a promise of what will be."

The tourists were shaken, but they were determined to uncover the truth. They returned to the library, seeking answers, but the book was gone. In its place was an empty shelf, and the whispers of the past were silent.

Eliza was gone, but her fate was sealed. She was now part of the Parliament's past, and her presence would be felt for generations to come. The Cursed Parliament had claimed its victim, and the haunted halls of legislative horror would never be the same.

The tourists left the Parliament, their hearts heavy with the weight of what they had seen. They knew that the stories of the haunted halls were true, and that the curse of the cursed book was real.

And so, the whispers of the past continued to echo through the halls, a reminder of the dark secrets that lay hidden within the walls of the Parliament. The haunted halls of legislative horror were now a place of fear and reverence, a place where the past and present would forever intertwine.