The morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, casting a warm
glow over the table. But the light did little to dispel the heavy tension
hanging in the air. Alex sat stiffly, his fingers drumming against the edge of the
table as he avoided his mother's tear-filled gaze.
"You're really going to do this," she said, her voice trembling. It wasn't a
question.
"I have to," Alex said quietly.
"You don't have to do
anything," his father snapped, his voice sharp. He leaned forward, his elbows
on the table, his bloodshot gray eyes hard and unwavering. "This isn't your
fight, Alex. It's not your responsibility to fix whatever's wrong with that
damned house."
Alex met his father's gaze, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "Then
whose responsibility is it? The house is tied to our family, whether we like it
or not. Ignoring it hasn't made it go away."
"So that is a reason to get yourself killed?" He spat angrily. "It's why we left
that town in the first place."
"And look how much good that did. The letter found me here, didn't it?" He retorted.
"And you think poking around in a place that's already killed half our
family is the solution?" his father shot back.
"I think it's the only way to get answers," Alex countered, his voice
rising. "I can't just sit here and pretend like nothing's happening. You saw
the letter. You know what it means."
His mother flinched at the second mention of the letter, her hands
tightening around her coffee mug. "I don't care what it means," she said, her
voice breaking. "I just want you to be safe. That house, it's a graveyard,
Alex. It doesn't care about you. It doesn't care about anyone."
Alex glanced at his little brother, Ethan, who sat at the far end of the
table. The boy had been uncharacteristically quiet, his wide eyes fixed on his
plate.
"Alex?" Ethan said hesitantly, his small voice cutting through the heavy
silence.
"Yeah, buddy?"
"Are there really monsters in the house?"
The question hit Alex like a punch to the gut. He forced a smile, though it
felt hollow. "I don't know, Ethan. But if there are, I'll be careful. I
promise."
Ethan didn't look convinced. He glanced at their grandmother, who had
entered the kitchen moments earlier and was now standing by the doorway.
"Grandma," Ethan whispered, "you said the house eats people."
The room went still.
Their grandmother's weathered face tightened, her sharp eyes fixing on Alex.
"He's too young to hear these things," she said curtly, then turned her full
attention to Alex. "But he's not wrong. That house has taken enough from us,
Alex. Don't let it take you, too."
"I'm not planning to die," Alex said, his voice steadier than he felt.
His grandmother didn't reply right away. Instead, she reached into the
pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a small silver locket, tarnished with
age.
"Take this," she said, placing it in his hand.
Alex frowned, studying the intricate engravings on the locket's surface.
"What is it?"
"It belonged to your great-grandmother," she said. "She wore it every day
she lived in that house. She believed it kept her safe. Maybe it'll help you
too."
"Grandma," Alex began, but she silenced him with a look.
"Take it," she said firmly. "And don't lose it."
Alex nodded, tucking the locket into his pocket. "Thanks."
By midmorning, Alex and his friends were loading up the car. The mood was
somber, each of them weighed down by the gravity of what they were about to do.
"You okay?" Jordan asked, her voice soft as she placed her backpack in the
trunk.
"Yeah," Alex said, though the tension in his shoulders told a different
story.
Jordan's fingers brushed against his as she reached for another bag, the
small contact sending a flicker of warmth through him.
"We'll figure it out," she said, her gaze steady. "Whatever's going on with
that house, we'll figure it out together."
Alex nodded, her words a small comfort in the face of the unknown.
*****
The drive was uneventful at first, the countryside passing by in a blur of
fields and trees. But as they neared the small town close to Blackwood House,
the atmosphere began to shift. The air grew heavier, the trees denser, their
twisted branches blocking out the weak sunlight.
The town itself was small and quiet, its streets lined with old brick
buildings that seemed frozen in time. Faded signs hung above shuttered shops,
and the few people they saw moved quickly, their heads down.
"This place feels... wrong," Emma said, her voice barely above a whisper.
"It's just a town," Chris said, though his tone was more defensive than
reassuring.
Alex slowed the car as they approached the center of town. A diner sat at
the corner of the main street, its neon sign flickering faintly in the gloom. A
man sat on the steps outside, his gray beard tangled and unkempt.
As they passed, the man's head turned slowly, his eyes locking onto the car.
"That's not creepy at all." Taylor muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his
seat.
"Keep driving," Jordan said, her gaze fixed on the man.
But before Alex could accelerate, the man raised a hand, signaling for them
to stop.
Alex hesitated, then rolled down the window. "Can I help you?"
The man stepped closer, his movements deliberate and unnervingly slow. "You
headed to Blackwood House?"
The question sent a chill down Alex's spine. "Why do you ask?"
The man's lips curled into a thin, humorless smile. "Not many folks go down
that road unless they're looking for trouble."
"We're not looking for trouble," Jordan said, her tone sharp.
"Then you're going to the wrong place," the man replied. His eyes, dark and
unblinking, flicked to Alex. "That house don't like visitors. Never has."
"We'll take our chances," Alex said, his voice tight.
The man chuckled, a low, rasping sound that sent a shiver through the car.
"Suit yourself. But don't say I didn't warn you."
He stepped back, his smile fading as his gaze lingered on Alex. "Keep that
locket close," he said quietly. "You'll need it."
Alex's blood ran cold.
Before he could respond, the man turned and shuffled back to the diner steps,
leaving the group in stunned silence.
The car remained still for several long moments, the faint hum of the engine
the only sound. Alex's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles
turning white as he stared out at the man now sitting silently on the diner
steps.
"How did he know about the locket?" Emma asked, her voice barely above a
whisper.
"No idea," Alex said, his voice tight.
"Maybe it's just a lucky guess," Chris offered, though he didn't sound
convinced.
"Yeah, sure," Taylor muttered. "Real lucky."
Jordan leaned forward from the back seat, her gaze fixed on the man. "Let's
not sit here and give him more time to freak us out. We should go."
Alex nodded, finally pressing his foot down on the gas. As the car rolled
forward, the man raised his hand in a slow wave, his dark eyes tracking their
every move.
No one spoke until the town was far behind them, the narrow road twisting
through dense woods.
"That guy was weird," Taylor said finally, breaking the silence.
"Weird doesn't cover it," Emma said. "He knew about the locket, Taylor. How
would he know that?"
"Maybe he knows the Andersons," Chris said, though he didn't sound entirely
convinced. "They've lived around here forever, right?"
"Or maybe there's something about this place we don't understand," Jordan
said, her tone calm but firm.
Alex didn't say anything. His mind was still racing, replaying the man's
words over and over.
The road grew narrower the closer they got to the house, the trees pressing
in on either side like a tunnel of shadows. The sunlight, already weak, seemed
to vanish entirely, leaving the car's headlights as the only source of
illumination.
"Is it just me, or is it getting darker?" Emma asked, her voice trembling
slightly.
"It's not just you," Alex said, his eyes scanning the road ahead.
The air felt heavier here, thick and oppressive, as if the land itself was
holding its breath. The car's tires crunched over the gravel, the sound
unnaturally loud in the stillness.
When the house came into view, the breath seemed to leave Alex's lungs all
at once.
Blackwood House loomed at the end of the drive, its dark, angular shape
framed against the overcast sky. The windows were like hollow eyes, staring
down at them with silent malice. The front porch sagged slightly, its wooden
beams weathered and cracked.
"Wow," Taylor said, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah," Chris said. "Wow."
Emma shivered, pulling her jacket tighter around herself. "It's worse than I
imagined."
"It's just a house," Jordan said, though her voice lacked conviction.
"Yeah. Famous last words but many people in movies." Taylor muttered.
Alex parked the car a few yards from the porch, his hands trembling as he
turned off the engine. The silence that followed was deafening.
They climbed out of the car slowly, each step hesitant as they approached
the house. The gravel crunched beneath their feet, the sound sharp and jarring
in the stillness.
"This place feels... alive," Emma said, her voice barely audible.
"That's just your imagination," Chris said, though he avoided looking at the
house for too long.
Jordan walked beside Alex, her shoulder brushing against his. "You okay?"
she asked quietly.
Alex nodded, though the knot of unease in his stomach had only grown
tighter. "I'm fine."
As they reached the porch, Emma gasped, pointing toward an upstairs window.
"Did you see that?"
"See what?" Alex asked, his head snapping up.
"There was someone in the window," Emma said, her voice rising. "I swear, I
saw someone."
The others followed her gaze, but the window was empty now, the glass
reflecting only the darkening sky.
"Are you sure?" Taylor asked, his tone more nervous than skeptical.
"Yes, I'm sure," Emma said, her hands clenching into fists. "It was a
figure. A person. I know what I saw."
Chris let out a shaky laugh. "Maybe it's the ghost giving us a warm
welcome."
"Not funny," Emma snapped.
"It's probably just your mind playing tricks on you," Jordan said, though
her eyes lingered on the window.
Emma glared at her. "It wasn't my mind, Jordan. I know what I saw."
Alex placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, his touch steadying. "It's okay," he
said softly. "We're all on edge. Let's stick together and take this one step at
a time."
Emma nodded reluctantly, though her gaze remained fixed on the window.
As they turned back toward the porch, a faint breeze stirred the air,
carrying with it the faintest hint of decay.
The group exchanged uneasy glances, the atmosphere thick with tension.
"Let's do this," Alex said, his voice barely audible.
With that, they stepped onto the porch, the old wood creaking under their
weight as they approached the yawning darkness of Blackwood House.