The voice calling her name faded into the night, leaving Lisa standing alone in the clearing, heart pounding. She could still feel the chill in the air, as if it had seeped into her bones. Even after she left the cemetery, the presence lingered, settling like a shadow over her.
The next day at school, she couldn't focus. Liam Weaver. His name echoed in her mind, and with each repetition, her curiosity grew. She wanted—needed—to know more. The rumors about his death, his life, his "curse," felt like puzzle pieces she was compelled to fit together, even if they formed a dark picture.
Her first stop was the library. She'd already read most of the local history books, but there had to be more. Sitting in the far corner of the library, Lisa found herself surrounded by dusty, forgotten volumes, their pages tinged with the scent of old paper and secrets. She delved into book after book, article after article, piecing together fragments of Liam's life and the tragic mystery surrounding his death.
"Liam Weaver," she muttered to herself as she scribbled notes. "Born October 3, 1958. Died... well, mysteriously."
The accounts were sparse but hinted at something disturbing. Some said he was "marked by death," others claimed he was "cursed" for his interest in the supernatural. It seemed Liam had been just like her, fascinated by the unknown and unafraid to explore it. But unlike her, he'd gone too far—or so the whispers suggested. The idea that a young boy could be "marked" or "cursed" sounded like something out of an old horror movie, but the more she read, the harder it was to brush it off.
According to one article, the townspeople had tried to warn Liam's parents to keep him away from "dark influences," whatever that meant. Another account hinted that he'd begun acting strangely—having conversations with thin air, scribbling symbols in his notebooks that no one could decipher. Lisa found herself shivering. This boy, so shrouded in mystery and fear, was now creeping into her own life, filling her dreams and pulling her into his secrets.
That evening, Lisa sat in her room, her notes spread across her bed. She stared at the collection of fragments and phrases, feeling a strange connection to Liam as if his story were somehow tied to hers.
"Cursed... marked by death…" she whispered, running her fingers over the words she'd written. They felt absurd, but the cemetery, that whispering voice—it was all too real. She hadn't told Jake about the voice yet. The idea of trying to explain it to him felt ridiculous, and besides, a part of her wanted to keep it private, like a secret only she and Liam shared.
Her phone buzzed, snapping her out of her thoughts. It was a message from Emily.
Emily: Hey, you up for movie night this Friday? Jake's picking something super scary, as usual.
Lisa hesitated. She wanted to say yes—she missed hanging out with Emily and Jake without the eerie weight of Liam's story pressing on her. But something held her back.
Lisa: Maybe... I've been kind of busy with this project.
Emily: Don't tell me it's about the dead guy. Lisa, seriously?
Lisa: It's… complicated. I just need to see it through.
Emily's next reply took longer to come, and when it did, it was short.
Emily: Fine. Just be careful, okay?
Lisa sighed, a wave of guilt washing over her. She didn't want to worry Emily, but she couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't just a project. It was becoming an obsession, one that she couldn't easily explain.
By Friday night, Lisa was back in the library, practically haunting the same spot in the archives where Mrs. Helms had first told her about Liam. She read until her eyes ached, and just as she was ready to give up, she found something—a faded photograph stuck between two pages of an old town directory. It showed a boy, maybe fifteen, staring directly at the camera. There was a darkness in his gaze, a haunting sadness that seemed to reach out to her.
A chill ran down her spine. It was Liam.
Her phone buzzed again—it was Jake, no doubt checking if she was up for movie night. But Lisa couldn't look away from the photo. She traced her finger over Liam's face, feeling as if he were watching her, studying her in return.
"What happened to you?" she whispered, her voice barely audible in the silence of the library.
Suddenly, she felt a prickling sensation on the back of her neck, like she was being watched. She turned around, half expecting to see someone standing there. But the library was empty, silent except for the faint hum of the fluorescent lights.
And then, in the quiet, she heard it—a faint whisper, so soft it was almost indistinguishable from her own breath.
Lisa…
She froze, her pulse quickening. The voice was back, the same one she'd heard in the cemetery. She looked down at the photograph, her heart pounding. For a fleeting moment, she thought she saw his lips move, as if he were trying to say something. But when she blinked, the image was still, lifeless, just a relic from the past.
She shoved the photograph back into the book, her hands shaking. The voice was following her. Liam was following her. And she couldn't tell if it was curiosity or fear that kept her from running.
As she left the library, Lisa's mind was a whirlwind. The legend of Liam Weaver had taken root in her, twisting through her thoughts like a dark vine. She felt a strange connection to him, a sense of kinship that was both comforting and terrifying.
When she got home, she went straight to her room, shutting the door behind her. She knew she was in too deep, but there was no turning back now. She reached under her bed, pulling out the necromancy book. The cover gleamed in the dim light, and she opened it to a page filled with strange, swirling symbols.
The words were in Latin, but she felt their meaning somehow, as if they were whispering directly to her.
"To call forth the spirit, to summon the soul…"
Lisa's hand trembled as she traced the words. The idea of calling forth Liam's spirit sent a shiver through her, but at the same time, a thrill sparked within her. She wanted to know what he had seen, to understand the mystery that had pulled him beyond the veil.
The thought terrified her—but she knew she couldn't resist.
She took a deep breath, her fingers hovering over the symbols. The room seemed to darken around her, shadows pooling in the corners. She could feel Liam's presence, as if he were standing right beside her, waiting.
And then, just as she was about to speak the words aloud, her phone buzzed, jolting her back to reality.
It was Emily again.
Emily: Still up? I can come over if you want to hang out.
Lisa stared at the message, torn. A part of her wanted to see her friends, to laugh and forget about the whispers, the shadows, the curse. But another part, darker and stronger, urged her to stay. To summon him. To pull back the veil and see what lay beyond.
She typed a quick reply, her heart racing.
Lisa: "Thanks, Em. I'm okay. Just… working on the project."
She put her phone down, her gaze returning to the book. Her decision was made.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered the words, feeling the shadows around her come alive.