[I highly suggest skipping to the third story from the get go. I don't think this chapter is as enjoyable as that one. Lol]

The wind howled across the fields of Black Hollow Farm, a desolate patch of land long abandoned to time. Its decrepit barn loomed like a skeletal giant under the moon's pale gaze, casting long, crooked shadows across the overgrown fields. The house—what remained of it—was a hollow shell, sagging inward, barely held together by the rotting timbers of its frame. But something lived in the silence of the farm, something that hadn't forgotten the dark past buried within the soil.

No one ventured near Black Hollow anymore. Rumors told of strange noises at night, of whispers carried on the wind. Locals said the farm was cursed, haunted by its bloody history. Some even claimed to have seen shadows moving where no light fell.

On this particular night, Caleb found himself standing at the rusted gate of the farm, an uneasy knot forming in his stomach. He hadn't been here since childhood, not since that last fateful summer he spent with his uncle, Nathan. The lies had unraveled since then, but now Caleb needed answers. Answers only this forsaken place could provide.

With a deep breath, Caleb pushed open the gate. The hinges groaned like the dying breath of a forgotten soul. His flashlight flickered as he stepped onto the path, its beam weak against the oppressive darkness that enveloped the farm. The air was thick, cold, and damp, as if the night itself was holding its breath.

His footsteps crunched on the gravel as he approached the house. It was worse than he remembered—decayed, eaten alive by time. But something in him urged him forward. He had to know what really happened here all those years ago.

As he stepped onto the porch, the wooden boards creaked under his weight, a low moan of protest. He hesitated, glancing behind him. The shadows stretched long across the fields, flickering in unnatural patterns. He turned back to the door, pushing it open with a dull thud.

Inside, the house was a maze of dust and decay. Faded wallpaper peeled from the walls, and old furniture lay strewn about like the remains of a broken life. Caleb's breath caught in his throat as memories flooded back. He remembered running through these halls, laughing as Uncle Nathan chased him. But those memories were a lie, weren't they? They had to be. The truth had surfaced later, whispered by those who had been there when the farm was still alive. Nathan wasn't who Caleb thought he was.

Caleb moved deeper into the house, the floor groaning beneath him. The air was colder here, almost suffocating. His flashlight flickered again, and for a moment, he thought he saw something—a shadow that moved just out of view.

He shook his head, trying to shake off the creeping unease. He wasn't alone. He could feel it.

The kitchen was the same as he remembered—old, worn, and full of secrets. Caleb walked toward the back door, where a small path led to the barn. That's where it had happened. That's where the truth lay buried.

As he stepped outside, the wind picked up, whipping through the trees. The shadows shifted again, dancing along the ground, twisting into shapes that seemed too human for comfort. Caleb quickened his pace, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't want to be here, but he had no choice. He needed to face it.

The barn loomed ahead, its doors hanging open as if inviting him in. Inside, the darkness was thicker, the air heavy with an almost tangible dread. Caleb stepped forward, his flashlight cutting through the blackness. The barn was empty, save for the remnants of old farming tools and piles of decaying hay. But the shadows seemed to gather here, darker and more sinister than outside.

His breath caught again as he moved deeper inside. He remembered now—this was where Nathan had taken him on that last day. The day everything changed. The day his parents had pulled him away from the farm, telling him they would never return. But they had never told him why. Not until years later.

"Nathan killed her," his mother had whispered one night after too much wine. "Killed her in cold blood. Your aunt. He made us lie. Said it was an accident. But it wasn't."

Caleb had never understood. Aunt Laura had been so kind, so gentle. How could Nathan have done something so monstrous? But his parents' silence after that night had been answer enough. The truth had been buried, just like Aunt Laura. And now, Caleb needed to find it.

A soft rustling sound broke the silence. Caleb froze, his flashlight flickering again. He swung the beam toward the back of the barn, where the old tools hung on the wall. A shadow moved—too fast, too deliberate. He wasn't alone.

"Nathan?" Caleb's voice was barely a whisper.

The shadow shifted, stepping out from the darkness. It wasn't his uncle, but something else. Something darker. The figure was tall, impossibly thin, its form a grotesque mockery of a human shape. Its eyes—if they could be called that—glowed faintly in the dark, watching him.

Caleb's heart raced as he stumbled back. The shadows in the barn seemed to close in, writhing and twisting around the figure. He couldn't breathe. His mind screamed at him to run, but his legs refused to move.

"You should have stayed away," the voice whispered. It was cold, emotionless, yet somehow familiar. "You should have left the past buried."

The figure stepped closer, and Caleb felt the weight of the truth crashing down on him. Nathan hadn't acted alone. The farm had always been cursed, haunted by something darker than murder. The lies, the cover-up, had only fed it.

And now it had come for him.

As the shadows swallowed him whole, Caleb realized the truth had been waiting all along, lurking in the darkness of Black Hollow Farm. Waiting for the past to be uncovered, so it could finish what it started.

No one ever left Black Hollow. Not really.