Elara Blackwell watched the Hollowbrook sign blur past the window as her aunt’s car rumbled down the cracked asphalt road. Fog curled around the trees, thick and ghostly, swallowing the late afternoon light. The town was smaller than she expected—just a handful of narrow streets lined with old brick buildings, antique shops, and a diner with a flickering neon sign.

  It looked like something out of a storybook, the kind where bad things happened.

  "Welcome to Hollowbrook," Aunt Selene muttered, keeping her eyes on the road.

  Elara hugged her arms, pressing herself deeper into the passenger seat. “It’s… smaller than I thought.”

  Selene let out a short, humorless laugh. “Most people don’t come here unless they have to.”

  Elara didn’t answer. She hadn’t chosen to come here, either.

  Her mother had vanished three months ago. No warning. No note. No goodbye. Just gone. The police called it a missing persons case. The official report said there was no sign of foul play, but Elara knew better. A mother didn’t just disappear in the middle of the night and leave everything behind—not unless something had taken her.

  And now, instead of searching for her, Elara had been shipped off to live with a woman she barely knew.

  Selene Blackwell was her mother’s younger sister, but they hadn’t spoken in years. The only thing Elara knew about her was that she was strange.

  That, and the fact that she lived in a house everyone in town seemed to fear.

  The car rumbled up a winding, tree-lined driveway until an old Victorian mansion loomed into view. The house was massive—three stories of dark stone, ivy-covered walls, and stained glass windows that gleamed even though the sky was overcast.

  Elara stepped out of the car, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder. A chill ran through her. The air here was different. Heavy. Thick with something invisible.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Selene said, already climbing the front steps.

  Elara frowned. “Get used to what?”

  Selene didn’t answer. She pushed open the heavy oak door, revealing a dimly lit entryway lined with old paintings and towering bookshelves. The scent of burning wood and something faintly herbal filled the air.

  Elara stepped inside, her boots echoing against the dark wooden floors. Her eyes landed on a row of portraits lining the hallway, each one depicting a different woman. Their expressions were solemn, their dresses old-fashioned.

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  Then, her stomach twisted.

  The women… they all looked like her.

  Same sharp cheekbones. Same gray eyes. Same dark hair.

  “Who are they?” Elara asked, turning toward her aunt.

  Selene hesitated. “Blackwells.”

  Elara moved closer, tracing her fingers over the nearest frame. The brass nameplate at the bottom was worn, but she could still make out the name: Marguerite Blackwell, 1724.

  The next one read Eleanor Blackwell, 1897.

  She continued down the line, recognizing names she had never heard before—until she reached the end. There was an empty frame where a painting should be.

  Elara glanced at Selene. “Who was supposed to be here?”

  Her aunt’s expression darkened. She reached up and turned the empty frame face down, like it had been a mistake to leave it up in the first place.

  “No one,” she said. “It’s late. I’ll show you to your room.”

  Elara’s room was on the second floor, tucked away at the end of a long hallway. The ceiling sloped slightly, and the walls were lined with bookshelves and heavy curtains that blocked out most of the light.

  “You should get some rest,” Selene said, lingering in the doorway. “It’s… different here at night.”

  Elara narrowed her eyes. “That’s not creepy at all.”

  Selene ignored her sarcasm. “Keep the window locked.”

  Then she left, shutting the door behind her.

  Elara sighed, tossing her duffel bag onto the bed. As she sat down, the floorboards creaked, shifting slightly beneath her weight.

  "Different at night?" she thought. What’s that supposed to mean?

  She tried to shake off the unease, but something about the house felt off. The air had a static charge to it, like the moment before a storm.

  That night, she lay awake for hours, staring at the ceiling. The only sound was the occasional rustling of leaves outside her window.

  Then, around 3 AM, she heard it.

  A scratching noise.

  Faint at first, but growing louder.

  Her breath caught in her throat. It was coming from the window.

  Slowly, she sat up and turned her head. The curtains were drawn, blocking her view—but she could hear it. A rhythmic, deliberate scratching, as if something was trying to get in.

  She forced herself to move, slipping out of bed and creeping toward the window. Every nerve in her body screamed not to look, but she pulled the curtain aside anyway.

  Her breath hitched.

  Outside, the trees were swaying violently—but there was no wind. The night was utterly still.

  Then, in the reflection of the glass, she saw it.

  A shadow. Tall. Watching. Waiting.

  Elara stumbled back, heart hammering. She spun toward the door, fumbling for the handle—

  A knock.

  She nearly screamed.

  “Elara?” Selene’s voice came from the other side. “Open the door.”

  Elara yanked it open, face pale. “There’s something outside my window.”

  Selene stared at her for a long moment, then sighed. “I told you to keep it locked.”

  She brushed past Elara, stepping into the room and heading straight for the window. When she pulled back the curtain, nothing was there. Just the dark, silent trees.

  Selene turned back, her expression unreadable. “Get some sleep.”

  “But I—”

  “Elara.” Her voice was sharp. Final.

  Elara swallowed. “Fine.”

  Selene lingered for another moment before nodding and stepping into the hall. As she closed the door, she murmured something Elara almost didn’t catch.

  "It’s starting again."

  The door clicked shut.

  Elara stood there, staring at the empty window, her skin crawling.

  She had no idea what her aunt meant.

  But for the first time since arriving in Hollowbrook, she realized something.

  She wasn’t alone.

  And whatever was watching her… had been waiting a long time.