In 1999, Sylvester Adrianno had just finished his studies at "Harrowgate University, London". The journey had been long, filled with late-night study sessions, missed calls from home, and fleeting moments of homesickness. But he had finally made it through. Now, after four years away, he felt the weight of returning home settle on his shoulders.
His home, situated far from the city, was isolated. Surrounded by towering trees, it stood like a dark, weathered figure against the backdrop of a fading sky. Sylvester didn't mind the solitude—he'd grown used to it. After his father's sudden death when he was only 15, Sylvester had become the man of the house. He was the one who looked after his mother, who had been suffering from a strange, deteriorating illness for years, and his younger siblings, Leo and Sarah
He thought he was ready for whatever awaited him, but little did he know that his return would soon unravel the threads of his life.
As Sylvester's car crunched up the gravel driveway, memories from his childhood flooded back. He hadn't realized how much he missed the familiar, though eerie, stillness of the place. His mother's illness had kept her from leaving the house much, and the old, creaky house always felt a little too quiet.
When Sylvester opened the door, he was met with the excited faces of Leo and Sarah. Leo, his younger brother, was the first to break into a grin and rush forward, pulling Sylvester into a hug.
"Sylvester! You're back!" Leo beamed, his voice bubbling with excitement.
Sylvester chuckled, ruffling his brother's hair. "It's good to see you, Leo. I missed you, kid."
Sarah, his younger sister, stood behind him. Her smile was softer but just as warm. "Welcome home, Sylvester," she said, her voice quiet yet filled with affection.
Sylvester smiled and knelt down to ruffle Sarah's hair. "You've grown up, Sarah. I swear, you're taller than I remember."
She giggled, but there was a hint of sadness in her eyes that Sylvester couldn't place. "It's just been a while, that's all."
After a brief reunion and some small talk, Sylvester excused himself to check on his mother. He hadn't seen her in months, and the thought of her fragile state made his stomach twist.
"I'll be upstairs with Mom," he said, looking at Leo and Sarah.
As he climbed the long, narrow staircase, the sound of his feet echoing off the wood felt like a reminder of the years he had spent away. The old house creaked under the weight of time, the silence broken only by the occasional gust of wind rattling the windows. Sylvester's breath quickened as he reached the door to his mother's room.
He knocked softly, "Mom, can I come in? It's Sylvester."
There was no response. He tried again, but the room remained still. He gently turned the doorknob and walked in.
His mother lay on the bed, her face pale and gaunt, her eyes wide and unblinking. She was staring blankly at the ceiling. The heavy silence felt suffocating.
"Mom?" Sylvester said, walking to her side and taking her hand in his. He could feel the thinness of her fingers.
"It's me, Sylvester. I'm home. College was tough, but I made it. I passed all my exams. And I made some new friends… you'd like them."
His mother didn't react. Her eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. Her breath was shallow, almost imperceptible.
Sylvester forced a smile, squeezing her hand gently.
"I've been thinking about you every day. I promised I'd take care of you, right? We'll get through this."
His voice cracked at the end, the weight of the promise settling deeper in his chest. But his mother didn't respond. She simply stared, lost in her own world.
And then, without warning, her eyes widened in terror. She gasped, her chest rising with panic. "It's here… it's coming for us…" Her voice trembled.
Sylvester's heart skipped a beat. "Mom, it's okay. Calm down. It's just me, Sylvester. Everything's fine…"
But his mother's fear only grew. She clutched his hand with a strength he didn't expect, her body trembling. "It's coming! I saw it—its eyes!"
Sylvester didn't know how to calm her. "Mom, listen to me. You're safe. I'm here."
She closed her eyes tightly, muttering something under her breath, her body relaxing only when Sylvester continued stroking her hair. It took a long time before she stopped trembling.
The week that followed was filled with uneasy silence. Sylvester kept watch over his mother, who became even more withdrawn and strange. She would sit at the window for hours, gazing out into the thick woods, her eyes glazed over as if she were seeing something no one else could.
Sometimes, she muttered to herself, phrases that made no sense. "They're watching us... they're waiting..." Other times, she would scream suddenly, as if in pain, but when Sylvester rushed to her side, she'd be as silent as a stone.
One night, Sylvester woke to a shrill scream. He rushed into her room, his heart pounding. His mother was clutching her chest, her face twisted in terror. "Sylvester… they're here. It's time. I'm sorry... I couldn't stop it..."
"Mom, please, calm down. You're scaring me…" Sylvester said, trying to soothe her, but it was too late.
His mother passed away in her sleep that night.
The funeral was quiet, somber. They buried her under the old oak tree in the garden, the one his father had planted years ago. Sylvester stood at the edge of the grave, his hands clenched into fists.
"I'm sorry, Mom," he whispered, his voice raw with grief.
"I couldn't protect you."
But the sorrow didn't end with her burial. That night, as Sylvester lay in his bed, he heard a faint whisper. "Sylvester… Sylvester…"
He sat up in shock. Sarah was in the room, her face pale. "I heard Mom's voice," she whispered, her eyes wide with fear. "She called me, Sylvester. She called my name."
Leo stood in the doorway, his face ashen. "I heard it too. It's like she's still here."
They huddled together, their fear palpable. But the whispers didn't stop.
Each night, the voice of their mother would call to them—softly, eerily. At times, the figure of their mother would appear in the shadows, her face blurred, as if she were standing just out of reach.
It wasn't just Sarah. Sylvester and Leo experienced the same things. It seemed their mother's presence lingered, even after death.
Determined to understand what was happening, Sylvester spent countless hours searching for answers. Finally, in a dusty corner of the house, he found a box filled with old papers—documents his parents had kept hidden. One particular letter caught his eye, written in his father's hand.
Sylvester read the letter aloud to Leo and Sarah.
"After we were married, your mother couldn't have children... and she became heartbroken. Desperate, we made a deal with something dark, something powerful. The first daughter we had would be given to the devil on her tenth birthday. It was a promise, and the price must be paid."
Sarah's face drained of color. "What... what does this mean?"
Sylvester's voice was shaky as he continued. "It means... Mom's illness, Dad's death, it wasn't natural. They broke their promise. And now the spirit is coming for us."
*Sarah with a scared and pale face*-- "I'm scared" (sobbing)
Sylvester anxiously tries to reassure his sister Sarah
"Everything will be fine, we'll face it together. I promise"
For a moment, the situation calmed down.
Night came, after putting his two sisters to bed, he went to his room and couldn't sleep because of the worry that began to overwhelm him about the situation they would face, especially his sister.
The days following their mother's funeral were a blur of fear and sleepless nights. The whispering voices grew louder, the shadows seemed to dance with malevolent intent.
Sylvester's patience was stretched to its limits. He refused to lose his sister
to the same terror that claimed their mother.
*Tomorrow morning*
Sylvester called his brother, Leo to meet him at the dining room. As soon as Leo arrived and sat down next to him...
"We can't live like this," Sylvester muttered, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "we need help".
Leo nodded, his face pale and drawn. " but who can help us with something like this?"
Slyvester thought hard. He remembered old stories, whispers from the neighbors about people who dealt with things that couldn't be explained by logic and reason.
That afternoon, Sylvester drove to a neighboring village with Leo and Sarah. They found themselves standing before a small, stone house draped in herbs, feathers, and symbols etched into the doorframe. A woman with long gray hair and eyes like deep pools of water—the shaman—stood waiting, as if she'd known they were coming. Beside her was a tall, solemn man in a simple black cassock—the priest.
"You seek freedom from the darkness," the shaman said, her voice low and knowing.
Sylvester nodded. "We need your help. Our house is haunted, and my sister… I can't let it take her."
The priest's eyes were filled with compassion.
"This darkness has roots in something old, something vile. But faith and strength will see us through."
That evening, they returned to the house. The sky darkened, clouds rolling in like an omen. Inside, the air felt suffocating, the temperature dropping unnaturally low.
The shaman began to spread a circle of salt and herbs in the center of the living room. The priest set candles at the four cardinal points, their flames flickering, casting long, trembling shadows across the walls.
"Hold each other's hands," the priest instructed. "Your bond is your greatest defense."
Sylvester took Leo's hand, and Leo took Sarah's. Sarah's fingers were cold, her eyes distant.
The shaman closed her eyes, chanting softly in a language older than the trees outside. Her voice seemed to reach into the walls of the house, pulling at the unseen shadows.
Shaman:
"Spirits of shadow, bound by cursed words,
By earth and flame, I sever your cords.
You shall have no hold, no refuge here.
By the light of truth, you disappear!"
The room shuddered as if the house itself were resisting. A low growl filled the air, a sound that made Sylvester's blood run cold.
Priest:
"In the name of the Holy Light,
I banish the darkness that binds this place.
No evil shall dwell here, no fear shall linger.
Begone, foul spirit, into the void from whence you came!"
Together, they performed a ritual, praying for the evil spirit to leave. The air was thick with tension, as the room grew colder and the shadows seemed to deepen.
With one final chant, the evil spirit wailed and vanished, leaving nothing but silence behind.
Shaman:
"you have to be careful, the darkness might came again"
A year later, Sylvester, Leo, and Sarah moved away, far from the house, to start fresh. But their nightmare wasn't over. Sarah began to change. She would talk to someone no one could see. She wandered off at night, looking out the window, as if waiting for something.
Sylvest feared that the evil spirit hadn't truly left. The haunting was still far from over.
To be continued