The ghostly figures moved closer, their hollow eyes fixed on the gleaming pocket watch in Mr. Blackwood's trembling grip. Oliver stood frozen, his heart pounding in his chest as he watched the spectral beings approach, a mixture of fear and fascination washing over him.
"What... what are those things?" Oliver whispered, barely audible.
Mr. Blackwood's eyes were filled with fear. "Ghosts," he said, clutching his pocket watch tighter. "Spirits drawn to the cursed power of this wretched timepiece."
Oliver felt a shiver go down his spine. Ghosts? The idea seemed impossible, but the evidence was right in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, to demand an explanation, but the words got stuck in his throat as one of the ghostly figures moved closer, its pale, translucent form hovering just inches from his face.
Oliver instinctively took a step back, tightening his grip on the tarnished pocket watch in his hand. The ghostly figure appeared to detect his movement, and its hollow gaze shifted, focusing on the timepiece with unsettling intensity.
"No!" Mr. Blackwood cried, his voice full of desperation. "You can't have it!" "The watch is mine!"
The old man swung his cane, striking the ghostly figure with a loud thud. The specter let out a piercing wail before dissipating into the shadows. Even as one ghost retreated, others surged forward, drawn by the cursed timepiece's power.
Oliver watched in horror as Mr. Blackwood fought off the spectral beings, his movements frantic and unpredictable. It was evident that the old man was no match for the supernatural powers he was up against, and Oliver realized he had to flee before he became stuck in this terrifying nightmare.
Clutching the tarnished pocket watch to his chest, Oliver turned and fled, his footsteps echoing through the deserted streets. He ran until his lungs burned and his legs ached, eventually coming to a halt in front of a familiar, dilapidated house on the outskirts of town.
Violet Sinclair's house.
Oliver had encountered the strange girl several times previously, lured to her outsider status and whispers that she, too, had a link to the supernatural. Now, as he stood on her doorstep, his heart racing, he realized she was the only one who could help him make sense of what he had just witnessed.
Oliver gathered his confidence and knocked on the door, praying that Violet would answer. After a time, the door creaked open, revealing her pale face, framed by a tangle of dark curls.
"Oliver?" Violet's forehead furrowed with confusion. "What are you doing here?"
"Violet," Oliver gasped, his words rushing out. "I... saw ghosts. Real ghosts. And Mr. Blackwood has this... this cursed pocket watch, and—"
Violet's eyes widened as she swiftly led him inside, her gaze darting frantically over the quiet street. "Come in, quickly," she whispered, just above a whisper. "You shouldn't be out here, not after what you've seen."
As the door closed behind them, Oliver felt a wave of relief rush over him. Finally, he was in the company of someone who could understand the frightening event he had just been through. But as Violet took him deeper inside the old mansion, Oliver couldn't help but wonder what other secrets hid in the shadows of Willow Grove.