Shadows of Black Hollow “Some places forget how to die.”The tires of Evelyn Drake’s car sliced through the damp gravel road, the wheels spitting up small stones that rattled against the undercarriage. The fog thickened the deeper she drove into the forgotten woods, where twisted trees clawed at the sky and moss-covered trunks lined the desolate path. Branches arched overhead like brittle bones, suffocating the weak sunlight struggling to seep through the gray canopy.The road narrowed, curving sharply, forcing Evelyn to slow. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles paling as the headlights pierced through the dense mist, illuminating the warped wooden sign ahead: Welcome to Black Hollow. The words, faded and split by a jagged crack, loomed out of the fog like a warning.Her phone vibrated on the passenger seat, shattering the heavy silence. She grabbed it, flicking her thumb across the cracked screen.“Evelyn, please, don’t do this,” came the urgent voice of Harper Kensi

Beneath the Ashes.“The dead have stories to tell. You just have to listen.”The hidden room seemed colder now, the air thick with something ancient, something heavy. Evelyn stood before the fractured mirror, her reflection fragmented across the cracks, pieces of herself staring back at her from strange angles. Her heart pounded in her chest, the echo of that whisper…..“I see you”.....still lingering in the air.She stepped closer, her breath fogging the glass. That’s when she noticed it, faint markings smeared across the cracked surface, almost invisible beneath the dust and age.“Not all of them crossed.”The words scrawled like a dying breath, barely there. Evelyn reached out, fingers trembling as she traced the letters. The moment her skin brushed the cold glass, the words vanished, swallowed whole as though they’d never existed.She staggered back.“Not all of who?” she whispered into the silence.But the mirror gave nothing back.That night, sleep came in jagged, restless waves.

The Forgotten Ones.“They never left. They’re still here.”The handle was cold beneath Evelyn’s fingertips, tarnished brass slick with condensation. Ethan stood behind her, his flashlight casting long, twitching shadows along the cracked walls of the estate. The broken mirror lay in jagged pieces at their feet, reflecting their fractured faces.“You sure about this?” Ethan asked, voice low.Evelyn didn’t answer. She turned the handle. It creaked, a rusted, ancient sound that echoed through the hollow house.The hidden door swung open.A narrow staircase spiraled downward into darkness, its wooden steps warped and slick with moisture. The air that rushed out smelled of damp stone, old wood, and something older… something decayed.Ethan clicked his flashlight beam downward. “This wasn’t in the estate blueprints.”“No,” Evelyn murmured, swallowing hard. “This was meant to be forgotten.”They descended together, each creak beneath their boots sharp in the heavy silence. The air thickened

The Ashen Tragedy.“Not all fires die out. Some just wait.”The fluorescent lights in the town archives buzzed overhead, a harsh contrast to the damp, dusty scent of old records. Evelyn brushed her fingertips along the spines of ancient ledgers until her hand stilled on a faded binder marked Ashen Tragedy – 1986. Her pulse quickened.She flipped it open, pages brittle beneath her touch. Black-and-white newspaper clippings filled the first few pages, photos of scorched rooftops, grieving families, and headlines screaming “FIRE CLAIMS TEN LIVES IN BLACK HOLLOW”. But something gnawed at her. Whispers from townsfolk echoed in her mind, about children who vanished, bodies never found.Evelyn squinted at the death toll: Ten confirmed dead. But the town had long whispered about more. She shuffled through the pages until a crumpled note slipped out, a faded police report marked Confidential.Her heart hammered as she read the signature at the bottom: Chief Thomas Calloway, Ethan’s father.“Co