Introduction:
Black Hollow is not just a small town located in the deep, dark, ancient woods of the Pacific Northwest; it is an eerie, sinister, and gloomy place with its bizarre silence and semi-perpetual fog. This place has long been a topic of mystery and fright. It is said that the people of Black Hollow whisper of shadows moving of their own accord and the rustle of leaves when no wind is blowing. One cannot even imagine who would be dared enough to move close to the dreadful forest, where all the fright lies concealed. A story like this one is sure to send a shiver down your spine, a terror that is bound to haunt your mind long after you rest your eyes from the book.
Arrival:
Emma Carter arrived in Black Hollow on a cold, cloudy evening. She is a freelance journalist with a flair for matters paranormal and came to learn what was troubling the little town for centuries. With her camera, notepad, and an insane thirst for knowledge, she checked into the one and only inn in Black Hollow under a creaky roof that seemed to fidget at every slight movement.
The innkeeper, a thin man with an emaciated countenance, hollow-eyed, warned her not to go to the woods. “The woods have a way of keeping what they take,” he stammered with fright. But Emma dismissed such warnings as mere superstitions, for she was only keen to expose the truth.
First night:
As darkness crept into town as life thereof, with grotesque energy there was more and more mist covering the town and shadows stretched longer, like the bony fingers spread across the earth. Emma sat by the window of her room, staring into the darkness of the night. It felt as though someone was watching her.
It was at that moment she heard it-a faint whisper, almost imperceptible. At first she thought it was the wind, but with every passing minute, the whispers grew louder, more insistent. They seemed to come from the very depths of the forest, summoning her, beckoning her closer.
With some reluctance, Emma picked up the flashlight and headed outside. The smell of damp earth and decaying leaves permeated the air. As she neared the forest edge, the whispers grew louder, and she felt compelled by something unexplained to go in even closer.
The Forest:
Once Emma set foot in the forest, the world around her changed. The trees seemed to close in on her, their gnarled branches twisting and writhing like the limbs of a monstrous creature. The whispers were everywhere now: a chorus of voices chanting in a language she didn’t understand.
On she walked, with a flashlight weaving its way around shadows cast over the ground. With each passing moment, she became more acutely aware of something ancient and evil. The air grew colder until her breath manifested in white puffs before her. Though she could feel eyes on her from out of the darkness, whenever she turned, nothing was ever there.
The Clearing:
After what felt like hours, Emma stumbled upon a clearing. In the middle stood a gargantuan, ancient tree, its trunk knotted and blackened as if burned. The whispers had become deafening, and within herself Emma could feel a pressure building in her chest, as though the entire air was closing in on her.
She went near the tree, with her heart pounding. As she neared, she detected that something had been carved there into the bark: a narrative of symbols, stirred with feeble, sallow colored light. She stretched out her angel hand to touch them. The moment her fingers met the marks, the world around her exploded into light.
The Vision:
Emma stood within that very glade, but the region surrounding her was alive with movement. Shadows flitted from within the trees, the shapes shifting and changing, shading into reality with every moment. The whisperings became screaming, tortured cries from warm mouths, lamenting where unknown wounds had been lanced.
Figures were emerging from the shadows-Tall, lanky creatures stretching for the misty shrouded trees with elongated limbs and downright blackies for ice-bowled eyes. They moved with unnatural grace, twitching and snapping like some of the most irresistible of marionettes. They’d begun to circle her; the whispers had started to increase, demanding attention.
One of the beasts raised an arm toward Emma, finger-bones grazed her cheek. A cold numbing sensation spread through her, and, with this horrifying realization, she was trapped. The creature came closer, fogging her skin with the chill of its breath; its whispers bore to her a single word: “Join.”
The Escape:
Emma pushed the creature away with a primal scream, pulling herself backward, encouraged by the sheer adrenaline flowing through her body. In a frenzied, ungodly, crazy burst of light, the shadowy, haunted world collapsed in on itself, and she knocked backward into the clearing again, an ancient tree before her bearer of lonely memory. The whispers had become his echo turned blank by silence.
She turned and bolted for the exit, with the forest seeming to close in around her as she sped up. Branches clawed at her soft skin; the ground seemed to shift beneath her feet, yet she did not detain herself. Her instincts told her that the beast was still pursuing her, shrieking in excitement.
At long last, Emma burst into town, all shivered in a semidarkness. Again, the mist started to envelop everything; the streets were emptied of all signs of life. She ran home to reach the inn, her heart and spirit both hammering in her chest. The innkeeper could scarcely conceal how grave he found her.
“You ought not to have gone into the forest,” he bemoaned. “You have now been marked.”
Aftereffects:
Emma left Black Hollow the next morning, but something told her it was following her. Whispers came on every night; faint in the beginning, they would grow louder with every day. Then she began to see shadows moving at the corners of her vision, coupled with CONSTANT gnawing dread that donning a face could not explain.
She tried about writing it down, yet each time she sat before her computer, the words just wouldn’t flow. She’d feel, in her innermost heart, the woods trying to unearth its secrets but putting up a blocking. Eventually, she gave up writing it all down; the memories of that night continued to remind her, at every instant.
Conclusion:
Black Hollow is a place steeped in fear and mystery, lit here and there by shifting shadows. A small town where the boundaries between reality and nightmare between the inhabitants have been ambiguously blurred; few who venture into the forest return, but those who do never quite come back the same. Emma’s account is but a tale among others, a cautionary one that there is something waiting for people in the shadows of Black Hollow.
So, if you are ever driving through the Pacific Northwest and come across a small, long-forgotten town blanketed with fog, remember Emma Carter’s tale. And whatever you do, do not go anywhere near the woods. The shadows are always watching and they are always hungry.
The End.
