The curse of Black Hollow

The air seemed heavier as I stood at the threshold of the Hartfield mansion, the key trembling in my hand. The house loomed before me, a brooding shadow against the twilight sky. Its turrets pierced the heavens like silent sentinels, and ivy snaked its way over the cracked stone walls, suffocating the structure in a chokehold of natures rebellion.

I swallowed hard. "This is it,"I whispered to myself, though the words lacked conviction.

The lawyers voice echoed in my memory. An unexpected inheritance, Miss Hartfield. The property has been in your family for generations, though its history is... complicated.Complicated? Hed left out the part where it felt cursed.

The key slipped into the lock with a reluctant click. As I turned it, the massive oak door groaned open, releasing a puff of stale air that smelled of decay and secrets.

The interior greeted me with darkness and an eerie silence that felt alive, like the house was holding its breath. My footsteps echoed as I crossed the threshold, each creak of the floorboards a protest under my weight.

A chandelier hung above the grand foyer, its crystals coated in years of dust, and cobwebs draped it like tattered curtains. The staircase curved upward, disappearing into shadows. I could hear faint scuttling somewhere-a mouse, probably.

Still, something about the silence was... wrong.

I ran my hand along the banister, the wood cold and smooth despite its age. My fingers tingled as if the house recognized me.

A loud bang shattered the quiet.

I jumped, heart hammering against my ribs, and spun toward the sound. A door down the hall swung slowly on its hinges, though I was certain no draft had moved it.

"Hello?"My voice wavered, a fragile attempt to assert control.

No response.

I grabbed my phone, activating the flashlight. The narrow beam cut through the dark, illuminating dust motes suspended in the air like tiny stars. Slowly, I approached the door, each step a battle between logic and the primal urge to flee.

The door creaked wider as I neared, revealing a room that felt colder than the rest of the house. A massive desk dominated the space, its surface cluttered with old books and yellowed papers. The faint scent of lavender lingered, a sharp contrast to the rest of the house's mustiness.

My light passed over the desk, and something caught my eye-a photograph in a tarnished silver frame. I picked it up.

The image was of a woman in a Victorian dress, her dark eyes hauntingly familiar. Her face was solemn, yet there was a defiant tilt to her chin. Below the photo, a name was etched: Vivian Hartfield.

"Ancestor?"I murmured, running my thumb over the engraving.

A sudden chill brushed the back of my neck, raising goosebumps. I whipped around, my light sweeping the room, but there was nothing there.

Then I heard it-soft, almost imperceptible. A whisper.

Leave...

The voice was faint but unmistakable.

My chest tightened. "Who's there?"I demanded, forcing more confidence into my voice than I felt.

The room remained silent, yet the air seemed charged, like static before a storm.

And then the door slammed shut.

I yelped, dropping the photo. My flashlight flickered, plunging the room into near-total darkness.

Panic surged through me as I fumbled for the door handle, but it wouldnt budge. My breaths came quick and shallow, the walls closing in.

The whisper came again, louder this time. You shouldnt have come...

"Let me out!"I shouted, banging on the door.

As suddenly as it had started, the tension in the air dissipated. The door swung open, nearly sending me sprawling into the hallway.

I staggered out, heart racing. My flashlight steadied, casting long shadows down the corridor. I glanced back into the room, but it was empty-no sign of the voice, the cold, or the photograph Id dropped.

I bolted up the stairs, seeking refuge in the master bedroom. The air felt slightly warmer here, the room less oppressive. A canopy bed stood in the center, draped with moth-eaten curtains.

As I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, trying to calm my racing heart, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The sudden vibration made me jump, but relief washed over me when I saw the caller ID.

It was Clara, my best friend and the only person who knew about my impromptu move to Black Hollow.

Hey,I answered, my voice shaking more than I wanted it to.

Lena? You okay?Claras concern was immediate, her voice a balm against the strangeness of the night.

Yeah, I-I paused, unsure of how to explain. This house... its weird. I think its haunted.

Haunted?Claras disbelief was laced with amusement. Lena, youve been there for what, two hours? Give it a chance.

I exhaled slowly. Im serious, Clara. Theres something... off. Doors are slamming on their own, and I swear I heard a voice.

There was a pause. Voices?Her tone shifted, the amusement gone. What did it say?

It told me to leave.

Another pause, longer this time. You sure it wasnt just nerves? Old houses creak, and your imaginations probably in overdrive.

I wanted to believe her, but my gut said otherwise. I dont know... Maybe.

Listen, get some sleep. Its probably just the stress of moving. Call me in the morning, okay?

Okay,I lied, knowing I wouldnt be sleeping anytime soon.

As the call ended, I set my phone on the nightstand and tried to focus on the here and now. The house was old, eerie, and unfamiliar. That didnt mean it was haunted.

Right?

The wind howled outside, rattling the windows. I crawled under the dusty quilt, feeling oddly vulnerable despite its weight.

Sleep eluded me as I lay there, staring at the cracks in the ceiling. Shadows danced across the room, shifting with the movement of the trees outside.

And then, just as my eyes began to droop, I felt it again-a cold brush against my cheek, like icy fingers trailing across my skin.

I shot upright, scanning the room. My breath clouded in the frigid air, and I realized the windows were shut tight.

Whos there?I whispered.

No answer.

I reached for my phone, but it was dead, the battery inexplicably drained.

The whisper returned, louder this time and unmistakably clear: You cant escape...

Before I could react, the canopy curtains fluttered as if an invisible hand had brushed them aside.

My heart pounded as I turned toward the source of the movement. In the corner of the room, barely illuminated by the faint moonlight, stood a figure. Tall, shadowed, and unmistakably there.

My breath caught. What... What do you want?

The figure didnt move, but its presence pressed against me, suffocating and undeniable.

And then it spoke, its voice deep and resonant, nothing like the whispers before.

You should have stayed away, Lena Hartfield. The curse has awakened.

: A sudden gust of wind extinguished the light, plunging the room into darkness. When I opened my eyes again, the figure was gone-but the words lingered in the air like a chilling promise.