915: Story 915: The House on Black Hollow Hill 915: Story 915: The House on Black Hollow Hill The cabin stood at the edge of the world, where the trees grew twisted and the ground seed to breathe.
Moonlight bathed the slanted roof in silver, but the shadows clung to its walls like a second skin.
Draven and Mira approached cautiously.
The howl of distant creatures sent a chill through the air.
Behind them, Elias gripped his flask, muttering a prayer under his breath.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said.
Draven ignored him and stepped onto the rotting porch.
The wood groaned under his weight.
He reached for the rusted handle—but before he could turn it, the door creaked open on its own.
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of damp wood and old blood.
Candles burned on warped furniture, their flas flickering as if whispering secrets.
The walls were covered in scratched symbols, warnings from past trespassers.
Then ca the whispers.
Mira turned, eyes wide.
“Did you hear that?”
Elias swallowed hard.
“Yeah.
And I really wish I didn’t.”
Draven took a cautious step forward.
As his boots hit the dusty floor, a low, gurgling moan rose from the darkness ahead.
His grip tightened around his shotgun.
From the shadows, it erged.
A woman—her face gaunt, her limbs twisted like broken branches.
Her eyes were empty sockets, but sohow, she saw them.
Chains clung to her wrists, dragging across the floor as she moved.
Mira gasped.
“The Forsaken Girl.”
The woman’s head twitched at the na.
A jagged smile split her face.
“Hungry,” she whispered.
“So…hungry.”
Then—she lunged.
Draven fired.
The shotgun blast tore through her, but she didn’t fall.
Instead, black veins pulsed where the wound should have been, and she let out a shriek that split the air.
The cabin ca alive.
The walls twisted inward, the symbols glowing red.
Hands erged from the wood, clawing at their clothes.
The ceiling split open, revealing a void filled with wailing faces.
Elias cursed.
“This place is a damn trap!”
Mira grabbed Draven’s arm.
“The book!”
In the center of the room, an ancient to burned with ghostly fire.
Pages flipped wildly, screaming in voices not their own.
“The curse is bound to it!” Mira shouted.
Draven didn’t hesitate.
He sprinted forward, ignoring the clawing hands tearing at his flesh.
He grabbed the book—
And the house scread.
The Forsaken Girl let out a piercing shriek, her form disintegrating into black mist.
The walls trembled, the shadows retreated.
Then—silence.
The house was empty.
Dead.
Draven turned to Mira and Elias, the burning book in his hands.
Elias exhaled shakily.
“Tell we’re done.”
Mira looked at the ash-covered pages.
“No,” she said, voice hollow.
“We just started sothing worse.”
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