Shadows of Hollow Hill

ting floorboards as if the house were silencing them on purpose. The air was colder here-unnaturally so. It carried the damp, metallic tang of rusted iron and the faint, acrid stench of de

ng through the gloom to illuminate fragments of the mansion's decay: a broken mirror hanging crookedly on the wall, its surface smeared an

er eyes darted to every shadow, every flicker of movement in her peripheral vision. Sh

with a small, sheepish grin. "But it feels like th

very creak of the floorboards and every whisper of the wind felt like a warning. The house was alive-she could feel

a network of cracks in the plaster that resembled veins. The smell of damp earth was stronger now, mingling with the musty scent of old wood. Lily's flas

r the handle, pausing for a moment as if to steel himself. Then, with a slow, deliberate motion,

inated the space, its surface cluttered with an assortment of forgotten objects: a brass inkwell, long dried and cracked; a stack of faded papers curled at the edges; and a candlesti

rner-an armchair, its upholstery ripped and sagging, the stuffing spilling out like entrails. "This is it,

fogged in the cold air, and she shivered, pulling her coat tighter around her. She glanced at the walls, where faint

up a journal, its leather cover cracked and brittle, and flipped it open. The pages were yellowed

the children refuse to sleep in their rooms. They say they see figures in

ser, peering over his shoulder at the spidery handwriting. "That

'The ritual must never be attempted again. The last time cost too

acing. "We shouldn't be here, Jake. This ho

ave to stay. If we don't figure this out, who will? This thing-it's been

sinking into her bones. The flashlight in her hand flickered, its beam faltering as though the dark

d, her voice tremblin

rely dark. When the beam returned, the desk was empty. The journals,

his mouth opening and closing w

ibrate through the walls, through the floor, through thei

far corner of the room, something moved. A shadow that didn't belong. It s

bscured, his features lost in the darkness that clung to him like a second skin. But his eyes-two pinpricks of light,

er voice barely audible.

. One step, then another, its feet silent on the floorboards. Its move

layered with echoes, as though a dozen voices w

red again, and th

g again and again. Lily stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat. Her flashlight beam trembled, scattering we

barely audible over the deafening silen

k, the journal forgotten in his hand. For all his excitement about finding proof of the supernatural, it was

n, his voice raw.

o steady herself. "Yes, I saw it. I heard it. And I don't care what k

d her coat tighter around her, but it did little to shield her from the oppressive cold. Her breath came out in pale puffs, and for

k to life. The light revealed the room was empty once more, the furniture and walls silent witnesses to their growing fear. But

his time. She grabbed his arm and tugged h

where the figure had been. "What was that?" he mutt

, fear sharpening her voice. "And

felt wrong-too loud, too deliberate, as if the house itself were mocking them. Lily's flashlight swept over the peeling wallpaper and the warped wood of the corridor, but the beam only

m jumped, their hearts pounding as the sound echoed through the empty halls. Jake

harply. "We're not g

wha

r resolve was firm. She had always been the practical one, the voice of reason

flashlight swinging back to the

like the ribs of some slumbering beast. Lily kept her eyes fixed ahead, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Every instinct she had was screaming

ornate carvings dulled by years of neglect. The chandelier overhead hung precariously, its crystals caked with dust and cobwebs. A thick layer of grime coated the

the marks. "Jake," she whispered, her

ng the lines. "Yeah. What...

want to f

c sound echoing from somewhere above them. But with every step they took, it grew louder, more insistent. The taps tu

m darting to the ceiling. The flashlight beam illuminated nothing but cra

his fingers trembling as he worked to open it. The thuds overh

y hissed, her voic

pen. Cold night air rushed in, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and da

g down the cracked stone steps and into the overgrown yard. The moment they crossed the t

e moon. The windows were black, their glass reflecting nothing. For a moment, it looked as thou

he feeling that the house wasn't done with them. It had let them go this ti

st time. For a brief moment, she thought she saw a figure standing in one of the upstair