The Town of Bogahill

Chapter Eight: The Red Circle

The silence after Rita’s words was unbearable. The air in the attic hung thick, like the house itself was listening. Caroline could feel the weight of it pressing on her chest, waiting for something she could not see. She gathered the children close, trying to still her trembling hands, but the quiet stretched on until it felt like a scream trapped behind her teeth. Then came a sound a low, hollow creak from beneath the floorboards. Slow, deliberate, like footsteps moving under the house. Patrick whimpered and clutched her sleeve. “Mommy, someone’s under us.”

Caroline forced herself to listen. The noise was faint but unmistakable, the soft rhythm of movement below the floor. Then, as if answering her thoughts, a gust of cold air blew through the room, and the round attic window shattered inward. The candle flickered wildly, and for the briefest moment, she saw it the faint outline of a circle drawn on the wooden boards near the window, lines carved deep and filled with something dark that glistened in the moonlight. She crawled toward it, brushing away the dust. The circle wasn’t painted it was burned into the wood. Strange symbols surrounded it, and at its center, a small latch was hidden beneath a loose plank. Her heart raced as she pried it open with her fingernails. The wood splintered, revealing a handle made of old, rusted iron.

“Stay here,” she whispered to the children, though she already knew she couldn’t leave them. The house was alive; it wouldn’t let them separate. She gripped the handle and pulled. With a groan that echoed through the entire house, the floor split open, revealing a narrow staircase spiraling downward into darkness. A breath of cold, damp air rose from below, carrying the smell of earth and something metallic something like blood.

Rita began to cry softly, but Caroline swallowed her fear. She lifted the lamp and took Patrick’s hand. “We have to go,” she said, her voice steady though her insides shook. “If we stay here, it’ll find us.” They descended into the dark. The stairs were uneven and slick, the walls close and pulsing faintly as if the house’s heartbeat ran through them. Caroline’s lamp flickered, throwing twisted shadows across the narrow passage. When they reached the bottom, the air grew colder still, so cold that every breath came out as fog. The space opened into a wide chamber beneath the house. The walls were lined with symbols drawn in blood, their shapes distorted and half-erased by time. At the center of the room was another circle larger this time, carved into the stone floor. Candles burned around it, though no one had lit them. Their flames were red instead of gold, flickering like small tongues of fire feeding on air that was no longer living. Caroline stepped closer, her stomach tightening. In the center of the circle lay a pile of bones small ones, arranged carefully like a cradle. She felt the world tilt. These weren’t animal bones. They were human. Children’s.

Patrick whimpered behind her. “Mommy, let’s go back. Please.” She knelt beside the circle, her lamp trembling in her hand. The air above the stones shimmered faintly, as if heat rose from the blood-etched lines, but the room was freezing. She reached out to touch one of the symbols and flinched when the ground beneath her pulsed. A faint heartbeat echoed through the stone. Her mind screamed at her to run, but her body wouldn’t move. It was as though the house had taken control of her limbs. Then, from the darkness, a voice spoke.

“You were never meant to see this, Caroline.”

Gerald stepped from the shadows, his face half-lit by the red glow. He looked worse than before his skin pale as wax, his eyes black and bottomless. He moved slowly, as if his bones had forgotten how to be human. Caroline rose to her feet, backing toward the wall. “Stay away from us.”He tilted his head. “You still don’t understand. The town doesn’t kill it preserves. Every soul offered to Bogahill remains here. It feeds the land, the people, me. And now, you.” She shook her head, tears streaking her face. “You’re insane.”

“Insane?” His voice softened. “No. Enlightened. I tried to spare you the fear, Caroline. I tried to let you come willingly. But the house knows what it wants. It called you the moment we arrived.”

The red flames flared higher, the shadows stretching across the walls like grasping hands. Gerald stepped into the circle, his bare feet smearing the symbols beneath him. The bones began to rattle. “The blood moon rises, and with it, renewal,” he whispered. “The child you carry will bind the circle forever.”

Caroline’s heart stopped. “No.”

Gerald’s eyes glowed faintly, the blackness within them alive. “It’s already begun.” The ground shuddered violently. From the cracks in the stone, a dark substance oozed upward, forming tendrils that coiled around Gerald’s legs. He didn’t resist. He spread his arms, his head tilted back as if in prayer. The walls groaned, the symbols pulsing with light. Caroline grabbed Rita and Patrick and pulled them away, but the air had thickened like tar. Every breath burned. The circle blazed now, a red light so bright it hurt to look at. Through the roar of blood and whispering voices, she heard one clear sound—Gerald’s voice, low and reverent, speaking a language that was older than words. The tendrils wrapped around his body, pulling him down until only his face remained visible. For a heartbeat, their eyes met. There was no hatred in his gaze, only a terrible peace. “It’s not death,” he said softly. “It’s devotion.” Then the floor swallowed him. The light extinguished, leaving only smoke and silence. Caroline fell to her knees, gasping. The children clung to her, sobbing. The chamber was dark again, but the circle beneath them still glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. And in that rhythm, Caroline heard a new whisper soft and distant, but unmistakably real.

It came from within her. “Blood for breath,” the voice murmured. “Breath for blood.” Caroline pressed her trembling hands against her belly, feeling the faint movement of the life inside. The child was kicking harder than ever before.

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