Lena sat quietly in the passenger seat of her mom's beat-up sedan, watching the narrow road wind and twist through the dense woods that seemed to go on forever. Hollow's Edge was supposed to be their new beginning, a place to escape from the suffocating grief that had followed them for the past year. But the further they drove into the heart of this small town, the more it felt like they were venturing into a forgotten corner of the world. The kind of place where memories went to fade away.
She glanced at her mom, Caroline, whose knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel. Her face was set in that same determined, distant expression she'd worn ever since they packed up their old lives and left the city behind.
"We're almost there," Caroline said, not looking at her.
Lena didn't respond. Instead, she pressed her forehead against the cool window, her breath fogging up the glass as the landscape outside blurred into streaks of gray and green. She wanted to feel something—relief, hope, maybe even excitement for a fresh start—but all she felt was a hollow pit in her stomach.
The car rattled as they turned off the main road, pulling into the driveway of their new house. It stood there like a relic of the past—an old two-story structure with peeling white paint, sagging gutters, and a porch that looked like it might give way if you stepped too hard on it. The yard was overgrown, weeds creeping up around the house, as if nature had been trying to reclaim it for years. There were no neighbors in sight, just the trees, looming and silent, standing watch over the house like ancient sentinels.
"Home sweet home," Caroline muttered, forcing a weak smile as she cut the engine.
Lena didn't move right away. She stared at the house, trying to imagine herself living there. But all she could think about was how out of place it felt, like they were intruding on someone else's forgotten story. Maybe they were.
With a sigh, she unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out of the car. The air was cool, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and pine needles. Everything was so quiet here, unnervingly so. No city sounds, no distant hum of traffic, just the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional creak of the old house settling into its bones.
Caroline was already busy unloading boxes from the trunk, her movements brisk and efficient. She didn't say anything as Lena grabbed her backpack and headed toward the porch.
The wooden steps groaned under her weight as she climbed them, and for a moment, she thought they might collapse. The front door was painted a faded red, the color barely clinging to the wood, and the brass doorknob was cold and tarnished. When she pushed the door open, it creaked loudly, as if announcing their arrival to whatever ghosts might still linger inside.
The house smelled of dust and something else—something old and musty, like the scent of forgotten attics and unopened rooms. The furniture was sparse, just a few pieces left behind by the previous owners: a weathered couch in the living room, an old wooden table in the kitchen, chairs that looked like they hadn't been sat in for years.
Caroline brushed past her, setting a box down on the kitchen table. "I know it's not much right now," she said, her voice tight. "But we'll make it work. It'll feel like home once we get everything unpacked."
Lena didn't reply. She didn't want to argue, didn't want to tell her mom that no amount of unpacking would ever make this place feel like home. Not without him. Not after everything that had happened.
Instead, she wandered into the living room, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. The windows were streaked with grime, barely letting in the fading light of dusk. She could see the edge of the woods just beyond the backyard, a dark, looming presence that seemed to close in around the house.
Something about those woods made her uneasy.
---
Later that evening, after they'd unpacked enough to make the place livable, Lena decided to go for a walk. Her mom was still busy unpacking boxes, obsessing over the smallest details to avoid thinking about anything else. Lena didn't bother telling her where she was going—Caroline probably wouldn't notice anyway.
The sun was sinking behind the trees, casting long shadows across the yard as Lena stepped out onto the porch. She pulled her jacket tighter around herself and headed toward the woods. The air was cooler now, a slight chill creeping in with the approaching night.
The path that led into the woods was overgrown and narrow, branches reaching out like skeletal hands trying to pull her in. Lena hesitated at the edge of the trees, glancing back at the house. It looked even more isolated from here, like it was the last house standing at the edge of the world.
With a deep breath, she stepped into the woods.
---
The deeper Lena walked, the quieter the world became. The wind barely stirred the leaves, and the trees seemed to press in around her, blocking out the fading light. She kept her hands stuffed in her pockets, her eyes on the ground to avoid tripping over roots or fallen branches.
It was peaceful, in a way. Almost too peaceful.
Then, she heard it—a soft rustling, like something moving through the underbrush behind her. Lena stopped, her breath catching in her throat. She stood still, straining to hear it again, but the woods had fallen silent. Her heart raced in her chest, but she forced herself to keep walking, telling herself it was just an animal, or maybe even the wind.
But a few steps later, the sound came again. This time, it was louder, closer.
Lena turned her head, scanning the trees, but there was nothing there. Just shadows.
She quickened her pace, her heartbeat thudding in her ears. The path ahead seemed to stretch on forever, the woods growing darker with each passing second.
Then, up ahead, she saw it—a break in the trees, leading to an open space. She hesitated for a moment, but something drew her forward, pulling her toward the clearing.
As she stepped out of the woods, Lena's breath caught in her throat.
Before her lay a vast, fenced-off area, filled with rusted, twisted metal. Old carnival rides—faded, broken-down carousels, half-collapsed Ferris wheels, and weathered ticket booths—stood abandoned in the overgrown lot, their paint peeling and metal creaking in the breeze.
It was like stepping into a forgotten world, a place lost to time.
Lena took a few hesitant steps forward, her eyes wide as she took it all in. There was something unsettling about the place, something wrong. The air felt colder here, heavier.
And then she heard it—a faint, distant sound that sent chills down her spine.
Laughter. Children's laughter.
Lena froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The sound was faint, almost like it was carried on the wind, but it was unmistakable. She strained her ears, trying to pinpoint where it was coming from, but it seemed to echo all around her.
Her pulse quickened as the laughter faded, leaving only the eerie silence of the lot behind. Lena took a step back, her hands trembling. She didn't know why, but she felt like she wasn't supposed to be here, like she had trespassed into something far darker than she could understand.
With one last look at the twisted metal of the abandoned rides, Lena turned and hurried back down the path toward home, the sound of her own footsteps echoing in her ears.
But the laughter lingered, even after she was far from the lot.
---
That night, Lena couldn't sleep.
Her room was dark, the curtains drawn tightly against the window, but her mind kept drifting back to the lot. The image of the rusted carousel, the broken Ferris wheel, the eerie emptiness—it all haunted her, twisting her dreams into something dark and surreal.
In her dream, she was standing in the middle of the lot. The carnival rides were spinning on their own, creaking and groaning in the wind, though the place was empty. Shadows moved between the rides, flickering at the edges of her vision, but whenever she tried to focus on them, they vanished.
She found herself standing in front of an old, cracked mirror inside one of the ticket booths. Her reflection stared back at her, but it wasn't quite right—her eyes were too wide, her face too pale, her expression twisted in fear.
The reflection opened its mouth to speak, but before it could, Lena woke up with a gasp.
Her heart was pounding, her body drenched in sweat. The darkness of her room seemed to press in around her, heavy and suffocating. For a moment, she wasn't sure if she was still dreaming.
But then she heard it—the faint sound of laughter, drifting in from outside.
Lena pulled the covers up to her chin, her breath coming in short, panicked gasps. She tried to tell herself it was just the wind, just her mind playing tricks on her.
But deep down, she knew better.
---
The next day, Lena's first day at Hollow's Edge High School passed in a blur of awkward introductions and silent stares. She kept her head down, avoiding eye contact, feeling more out of place than ever. The other students whispered about her, the new girl, but she pretended not to notice.
It wasn't until lunch that she overheard something that caught her attention.
"I swear, I saw it," a boy was saying, his voice low but urgent. He was tall, with messy dark hair and an intense look in his eyes. He was talking to a girl with short, dyed pink hair, who seemed less convinced.
"I don't know, Ethan," the girl said, picking at her food. "You've been obsessed with that place for years. Maybe you're just seeing what you want to see."
"No, Maya, it was real," Ethan insisted. "I saw the lights flickering, and there was this weird sound—like music, but not normal music. It was like it was coming from inside my head."
Lena's heart skipped a beat. She glanced over at the two of them, trying to listen without being obvious.
"The lot?" Maya asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're seriously still hanging around there? After everything?"
Ethan nodded, his expression darkening. "I'm telling you, something's going on there. And I'm going to figure it out. I owe it to Kenny."
Maya sighed but didn't argue. It was clear this was a conversation they'd had many times before.
Lena's curiosity sparked. The lot. They were talking about *The Forgotten Lot*. The place she had stumbled upon last night. And Ethan—he seemed to know something about it, something deeper.
As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, Lena made a decision. She wasn't going to ignore this. She had to know more.
---
That afternoon, instead of heading straight home, Lena found herself walking the same path she had taken the night before. The woods felt different in the daylight, less oppressive but still eerily quiet. The memory of the laughter, the dream, and Ethan's conversation tugged at her, pulling her back toward the lot.
When she reached the edge of the clearing, she froze.
Ethan and Maya were there, standing by the broken fence. Ethan was already halfway through the gap, and Maya was reluctantly following him.
Lena's heart raced. She should turn around, go home, and forget about all of this.
But instead, she found herself stepping forward, following them through the fence and into the lot.
As she stepped through, a gust of cold air hit her, and she heard it again—the faint sound of carnival music, playing from somewhere deep within the shadows.