2025-11-06 03:29:58The morning crept into the house like a ghost, silent and cold. Fog pressed against the windows, muting the world outside. Caroline woke to the sound of something dripping. For a moment, she thought it was rain but the roof above was dry. She turned her head. Gerald’s side of the bed was empty. The imprint of his body was already cold. Downstairs, the house creaked with the slow ache of old wood. Rita was still asleep beside her, her skin pale and damp with sweat. Caroline brushed the girl’s hair from her forehead and whispered, “You’re safe, baby. Mommy’s here.” Rita stirred, her eyes fluttering open. “She came again,” she whispered weakly. Caroline frowned. “Who, sweetheart?”
“The girl from the woods. She stood by the window last night. She said, don’t let him feed me.”
A shiver ran through Caroline’s spine. “You were dreaming.” Rita shook her head slowly. “She said he’s not Daddy anymore.” Caroline felt her stomach twist. Before she could answer, a voice drifted from downstairs.
“Caroline? You awake?”Gerald. Calm. Almost cheerful. She tucked the blanket around Rita, then went downstairs. The smell hit her before she reached the bottom step iron and smoke, something faintly rotten beneath the scent of coffee.Gerald stood by the stove, stirring a pot. He turned with a smile. “Morning, love. Made breakfast.”Caroline eyed the plate dark, greasy meat, still steaming. “What is that?” “Local sausage. A specialty here,” he said, setting a plate for her. “I’m not hungry,” she muttered. He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He sat and began to eat, each bite slow and deliberate. Caroline watched the way his jaw moved, too steady, too quiet. His eyes looked different sharper somehow, like an animal’s. “Where did you go this morning?” she asked.
“Just out for a walk,” he replied between bites. “I wanted to see how the town’s changed.”
She leaned against the counter. “You could’ve waited. You know what happened last night.” He didn’t look up. “I needed to think.” Caroline stared at him for a long moment. “Gerald… are you hiding something from me?”
He finally raised his gaze. For just a second, his pupils seemed darker, wider. “What would I be hiding?” Before she could answer, a sharp knock echoed through the house.Gerald frowned, setting down his fork. “Stay here,” he said. Caroline ignored him and followed as he opened the door.Mara stood there, her milky eyes gleaming faintly in the fog. Her hands clutched a bundle of herbs wrapped in red cloth.
“The child needs this,” she said, her voice a rasp.
Caroline stepped forward. “She’s awake, but she’s weak. What’s happening to her?” Mara’s gaze slid past Caroline to Gerald. “You should know.” Gerald stiffened. “Don’t start, old woman.” “Then tell her the truth,” Mara said. “Before the moon turns red.”
Caroline’s heart thudded. “What truth?”
Mara ignored her question and pressed the herbs into Caroline’s hands. “Burn these at night. It may keep the shadows from touching her again. But nothing will stop what’s been promised.”
“What’s been promised?” Caroline demanded.
Mara’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Blood calls to blood. And this land remembers yours.”
Caroline’s brow furrowed. “Mine?”
The old woman’s cloudy eyes turned toward Gerald. “No. His.”
Caroline looked between them. “Gerald, what is she talking about?”
He forced a small laugh. “She’s mad, Caroline. Don’t listen to her.” Mara smiled faintly. “The mad often remember what the sane try to forget.”
She stepped closer to Caroline. “The healer before me your husband’s grandmother helped the town feed itself. Do you know what with?”
Caroline’s breath caught. “Feed… itself?”
Mara’s lips twitched. “Flesh. The blood of those who return. It keeps Bogahill alive.”
“That’s enough,” Gerald snapped. “Get out of here, Mara.”
The old woman didn’t flinch. “You can’t outrun the old bargains, Gerald. You know the rules. The town waits for its offering.” Caroline’s hands trembled. “Offering?”
Mara turned her blind eyes toward her. “You’ll see soon enough.” She shuffled away into the fog, disappearing as if she’d melted into it. Caroline faced her husband, voice shaking. “What is she talking about? What offering?” Gerald rubbed a hand over his face. “Don’t start with that nonsense. The old woman’s insane.”
“Then why does she know your name? Why did she say welcome home?”
He slammed his hand on the counter, startling her. “Because I grew up here! Everyone knows me!”
The sound of his anger filled the house like thunder. Upstairs, Rita screamed. Caroline bolted up the stairs, heart pounding. Rita sat up in bed, eyes wide and unfocused.
“Mommy!” she cried. “He’s in the mirror!”
Caroline turned. The mirror across the room was fogged, but through the haze, a face stared back not Rita’s, not hers. Gerald’s face, pale and smiling, though he was still downstairs. Then it blinked. The glass cracked with a sharp pop, a spiderweb of fractures spreading from the reflection’s eye. Rita whimpered, pressing her face into her mother’s shoulder. “He said the baby’s not yours anymore.” Caroline’s arms tightened around her daughter. “Hush, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay.” But it wasn’t okay.
From somewhere beneath the floorboards came the sound of something moving slow, deliberate scraping, like fingernails against wood. Caroline looked toward the window. Outside, the fog thickened until the house felt like it was sinking into it. And there, just visible through the gray, stood Mara again watching the house, her white eyes unblinking. But this time, she wasn’t alone. Behind her, in the mist, dozens of shapes stood still as stone.The people of Bogahill. Their faces pale. Their eyes black. Their mouths moving soundlessly in unison.Chanting. Caroline pulled the curtains shut, her breath shaking. She turned toward Rita. “We’re leaving,” she whispered. “As soon as your brother wakes up.” Downstairs, the scraping sound stopped. And then Gerald’s voice drifted up from below calm, gentle, almost tender.
“Caroline… come down here. Breakfast is getting cold.”
ID: 001234
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Chapter Ten: The Child of Bogahill
Caroline woke with a start, the red glow of the blood moon still burning in her vision, though now muted to a dull, sickly hue. The air around her was heavy and cold, thick with the metallic tang of iron and something darker she could not name. She blinked, trying to take in her surroundings. The cellar had changed. The walls were no longer stone but a living, pulsing flesh, lined with veins that throbbed like a heartbeat. The symbols from the red circle glowed faintly on the floor, not burned or drawn, but carved into the flesh itself, as if the house had absorbed the ritual. Her hands went to her stomach instinctively. There was no movement now, only silence. Panic clawed at her chest. “No… no, no,” she whispered, backing away from the center of the room. The air around her vibrated with a low, resonant hum, a sound that seemed to come from beneath the ground itself. And then she heard it a faint, wet gurgle, a tiny, deliberate sound that made her blood turn to ice. Caroline’s eyes
Chapter Nine: The Awakening
For a long while, Caroline couldn’t move. The red light had faded, but its ghost lingered in her eyes, etched into her mind like a scar. The air in the chamber was heavy, thick with the scent of burning wax and blood. Patrick was pressed against her side, shivering, while Rita lay limp in her lap, her small hands cold and trembling. The silence that followed was not peace; it was the kind of stillness that comes when the world itself is holding its breath. Caroline forced herself to stand. The circle still pulsed faintly beneath the thin layer of smoke, a dull heartbeat echoing through the floor. She turned toward the stairs, desperate to leave the chamber behind, but as soon as she moved, the whisper returned soft, coiling through her thoughts like smoke.“Blood for breath… breath for blood…”She froze. The voice wasn’t coming from the room anymore. It was inside her. Deep, faint, and rhythmic, as if it beat in time with the pulse of her unborn child. Her stomach tightened; she press
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
Chapter Seven: The House That Breathes
The bell’s final toll still echoed when Caroline ran from the door, her burned palms pressed against her dress, her heart beating so hard she could hear it in her ears. Upstairs, the house groaned like something waking from sleep. The sound of the walls shifted from faint whispers to deep, slow breaths that filled the hallways. The air had changed it was heavier now, damp and thick with a sweet, rotten scent, like fruit left too long in the sun. She raced to the children’s room and found Rita curled on the bed, her eyes wide and glassy. Patrick sat beside her, clutching his sister’s hand, both of them shaking. “Mommy?” Rita whispered. “The house is moving.”Caroline felt the floor tremble beneath her feet. The boards swelled and sank in uneven waves, as though the ground itself was breathing. From the walls came a low sound, like the moaning of wind through hollow bones. She forced herself to stay calm and crouched by the bed. “Listen to me,” she said, her voice trembling. “We’re leav
Chapter Six: The Blood Moon Oath
The night after the feast was colder than any before. A heavy mist crawled through the cracks of the windows, filling the house with a damp chill that settled deep into Caroline’s bones. The torches outside had burned low, their smoke curling into the shape of black ribbons that swayed in the wind. The silence in Bogahill was not peace it was expectation. Something waited. Caroline sat by the window, her hands trembling as she clutched the locket Gerald had given her years ago. It used to bring her comfort a reminder of their early days together, the laughter, the dreams but now it felt like a weight, something foreign pressed against her heart. Her mind kept returning to the way he’d looked at her at the feast. Not with love. Not even with guilt. But with certainty, as if she was already gone. Unable to bear the stillness, she lit a lamp and began to walk through the house. The light cast long shadows that twisted across the walls like veins. Somewhere above her, the boards groaned a
Chapter Five: The Feast of Flesh
Morning came slowly, dragging itself through the fog like something wounded. The light that seeped through the curtains was pale and sickly, casting long shadows that made the room seem smaller than before. Caroline woke to an empty bed. Gerald was gone again, and his side of the mattress was cold. The smell of damp earth and smoke filled the room, and for a moment, she could have sworn she heard footsteps pacing in the hallway. But when she opened the door, there was nothing just silence, thick and heavy, pressing against her ears. Downstairs, the children were quiet. Rita sat at the table, staring blankly at a bowl of untouched porridge, her small hands trembling slightly. Patrick was by the window, drawing invisible lines on the glass with his finger. Caroline tried to sound calm as she asked where their father was, but neither child answered. Rita finally whispered, “He’s with them.”“With who, sweetheart?”Rita lifted her eyes, dark and hollow. “The people from last night. The on
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