THE CURSED TOWN

The wind in Cedar Hollow was different. Not the kind that swirled playfully around you, inviting a crisp breath. No, this wind carried something heavier—an oppressive weight. Sophie Rivers could feel it as soon as she drove past the dilapidated town sign. “Welcome to Cedar Hollow,” it read, the words faded and chipped, as though the town itself had been waiting to die for a long time. The trees lining the roads, dark and twisted, leaned toward her car like silent sentinels. The fog rolled in thick from the forest, encircling the town like a cloak, swallowing everything in its path.

Sophie had heard of Cedar Hollow, of course. Everyone in the city had heard of it—the strange town on the edge of the state, forgotten by time and the outside world. It was the kind of place people drove through on their way to somewhere else, but never stayed. And for good reason. Its reputation preceded it, woven into the threads of old local legends and whispered rumors that only the brave, or the foolish, dared to investigate. It was a town of ghosts, or so the stories went. People disappeared here—mysterious, unexplainable disappearances—and no one ever spoke of it again. Some said the town was cursed, trapped in a perpetual cycle of darkness. Others said it was just the fog.

But Sophie wasn’t here for the stories. She wasn’t interested in folklore or ghost tales. She was here for a much more personal reason. Her brother, Nathan Rivers, had disappeared two months ago while living in Cedar Hollow. The police had written it off as another missing person case, but Sophie knew better. Nathan wasn’t the kind of person to just vanish. Not without a trace. And she wasn’t the kind of person to sit idly by while the world pretended everything was fine.

The town looked just as it had been described—run down, forgotten. The streets were eerily quiet, save for the occasional distant bark of a dog or the creak of an old porch swing. Sophie drove past rows of weathered houses with peeling paint, each one sitting in a stagnant stillness, as though no one had bothered to check on them in years. The old post office was boarded up, its glass windows cracked and shattered. A single streetlight flickered intermittently, casting strange shadows on the cracked pavement. The town felt like a place stuck in time, like the kind of place you visited in dreams that left you unsettled when you woke up.

Sophie parked in front of the small, crumbling inn at the edge of town, the last building on the main street. The wooden sign swayed with the breeze, its letters barely visible beneath layers of dust and decay. “Hollow Inn,” it said, and Sophie wondered just how many people had stayed there in recent years. She grabbed her bag from the passenger seat and stepped out into the cold air, pulling her coat tighter around her. Her heart was heavy with the weight of unspoken fears, but she pushed them down. There was no room for fear now. Nathan needed her.

The bell above the door jingled as Sophie entered the inn, the sound a stark contrast to the silence outside. The interior was dimly lit, the musty smell of old wood and stale air filling her nose. The walls were lined with faded photographs of the town’s past—families, festivals, and forgotten moments frozen in time. The reception desk was empty, save for a young woman in her late teens, sitting hunched over, her face buried in a book. She looked up as Sophie entered, her expression blank.

“Can I help you?” the girl asked, her voice monotone, almost lifeless.

“I have a reservation,” Sophie replied, setting her bag on the counter. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to offer the girl a smile, but it felt like the only natural thing to do in a place that seemed so inhospitable.

The girl’s eyes lingered on Sophie for a moment, and then she reached for a dusty key from a wooden rack behind her. “Room 7. It’s on the second floor. The stairs are creaky, so be careful. People don’t come here often.” She handed Sophie the key with a strange look in her eyes, like she knew something Sophie didn’t.

Sophie took the key, her curiosity piqued. “What do you mean, people don’t come here often?”

The girl shrugged, her gaze drifting to the window. “People come to Cedar Hollow to disappear,” she said softly, almost as if she were speaking to herself. “But you’ll figure that out soon enough.”

Sophie froze. She wasn’t sure if it was the eerie calm of the girl’s voice or the unsettling words themselves, but something about the way she said it sent a chill down her spine.

“I’m just here to find my brother,” Sophie said, her voice firmer this time. She wasn’t going to let herself be swayed by vague, cryptic remarks. “Have you seen anyone new in town recently?”

The girl’s eyes flickered briefly to the counter before looking back at Sophie. “Not lately,” she said, her voice flat. “But it’s hard to say. People come, people go. The town doesn’t really notice anymore.”

Sophie felt her throat tighten. She nodded stiffly, not wanting to press the girl further. She took her key and left the front desk, her footsteps echoing through the hollow hallways of the inn.

As she climbed the narrow stairs to the second floor, the air seemed to grow colder with every step. She paused on the landing, looking down at the dim hallway lined with closed doors. The hallway felt suffocating, the walls closing in around her as the floorboards groaned underfoot. Her heart was pounding now, and the sense of being watched crept over her like a thick fog.

Room 7 was at the end of the hall, its door slightly ajar. Sophie pushed it open cautiously, stepping into the dimly lit room. The walls were bare, except for a single photograph on the opposite wall—a black-and-white image of a small group of people standing in front of a house. Sophie couldn’t make out their faces, but there was something haunting about the photograph, something that made her feel uneasy.

She dropped her bag on the bed and walked over to the window, pulling aside the faded curtains. The view was grim—an overgrown garden that seemed to have once been cared for, but was now swallowed by the wildness of nature. Beyond it, the forest stretched into the distance, its dense trees dark and menacing in the dying light of the day.

Sophie pulled her gaze from the window and shook her head, trying to dispel the sense of dread that was beginning to settle in her chest. She was here to find Nathan. Nothing more, nothing less.

She sat on the edge of the bed, opened her laptop, and began to sift through the information she had gathered about Cedar Hollow. The town’s history was a patchwork of old legends and half-forgotten facts. There was no official record of Nathan’s disappearance, no statement from the police, nothing concrete. Just a few vague mentions in online forums and local news reports about a young man who had come to the town and vanished. It didn’t make sense. Sophie knew Nathan—he wasn’t the type to disappear. He was independent, yes, but never reckless.

The clock on the wall ticked louder, and Sophie glanced at the time. It was getting late. She closed her laptop with a sigh, the weight of the day pressing on her shoulders. She needed to sleep, but something nagged at her. A sense that she wasn’t alone in this room, that something was waiting in the shadows, watching her every move.

Sophie turned off the light, the darkness enveloping her almost immediately. She pulled the covers over her and closed her eyes, trying to push away the unsettling feeling that had settled in her gut. But just as she began to drift off, a soft whisper—almost imperceptible—reached her ears.

“Get out.”

Sophie’s eyes snapped open, her heart racing in her chest. She listened for a moment, but all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and the distant rustle of the wind outside.

She shook her head, trying to calm herself. It was just her imagination. She was exhausted.

But deep down, she knew. Cedar Hollow wasn’t just any town. It was hiding something. And whatever it was, it didn’t want her here.