The Hollow House

 The Hollow House

Deep in the heart of a forgotten forest, where the trees grew tall and tangled, and the fog never lifted, there stood a crumbling old house known as the Hollow House. It had once been grand, a mansion of dark wood and stone, but now it sagged under the weight of time and the whispers of things unseen. The locals warned never to go near it, for the house was said to be cursed, haunted by spirits that fed on the living.

But the Weller family didn’t believe the stories. Desperate for a fresh start, they moved into the Hollow House one cold autumn day. The family consisted of Ethan, the father, who was tired and worn from city life; Emily, the mother, who longed for peace; and their children—ten-year-old Lily, full of curiosity, and six-year-old Ben, quiet and wide-eyed.

The moment they stepped through the door, the air seemed to shift. It was colder inside than outside, and the walls groaned softly, as if the house itself had drawn a slow breath.

At first, it was small things—shadows that moved when no one was looking, whispers in the dark that vanished when the lights flickered on. Ben told his parents about the “tall man in the hallway,” but they dismissed it as a child’s imagination.

But Lily noticed too—how her toys would rearrange themselves at night, how her reflection in the mirror didn’t always move with her, and how the attic door creaked open by itself, even though they always kept it locked.

Then the dreams began—Emily woke up screaming, clutching at invisible hands; Ethan would mutter in his sleep, saying things that weren’t his words, like "the house is hungry" and "it’s waiting".

One stormy night, as the rain lashed against the windows, the family gathered in the living room, the fireplace barely keeping the cold at bay. A low, deep knock echoed from the front door. Ethan opened it, but there was no one there—only a trail of wet footprints leading into the house.

The lights flickered, and the air grew thick, heavy with the scent of rot. The walls seemed to pulse, like a heartbeat. The whispers became voices, overlapping, a cacophony of pain and rage.

Lily turned, her eyes wide, and pointed at the stairs. At the top, the tall man stood, a shadow in the shape of a man, but too tall, too thin, with glowing red eyes and long fingers that scratched the walls as he moved.

Emily grabbed Ben and Lily, pulling them close. Ethan tried to confront the figure, but it glided down the stairs, a void of darkness that swallowed the light. The air grew so cold that frost bloomed on the walls, and the whispers twisted into screams.

The family tried to escape, but the doors slammed shut, the windows shattered, and the house shifted around them, trapping them inside.

The last thing they saw was the tall man’s face, twisted and grinning, as the shadows engulfed them.

The Hollow House fell silent once more.

Days passed. Weeks. The Wellers were never seen again. Some say if you pass by the Hollow House at night, you can hear the faint cries of a family calling for help, trapped forever in the grip of the evil spirits that haunt its walls.

The forest keeps its secrets well, and the Hollow House waits, hungry for the next family to step inside.