Emily awoke the next morning to the sound of distant thunder rumbling through the clouds. She stretched and glanced out the window, noticing the dark, brooding sky. Hollow Creek seemed to be bracing itself for a storm.
Determined to get some work done before the rain hit, Emily threw on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and headed downstairs. She had decided to tackle the attic today, hoping to uncover more clues about the McAllister family.
As she climbed the creaky stairs to the attic, the air grew cooler and the smell of dust grew stronger. The attic door groaned in protest as she pushed it open, revealing a dimly lit space filled with old trunks, boxes, and covered furniture. Cobwebs hung from the rafters, and the single window at the far end let in a weak shaft of light.
“Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding,” Emily murmured to herself as she began sifting through the contents of the first trunk.
Hours passed as she carefully examined old photographs, letters, and various knick-knacks that had been left behind. She found a stack of letters tied with a ribbon, addressed to Margaret McAllister. As she read through them, Emily couldn’t help but feel a connection to the woman who had once called this house home.
Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from downstairs, startling her. Emily hurriedly put the letters back in the trunk and rushed down to the living room, where she found a picture frame lying shattered on the floor.
“What the...?” she muttered, looking around for any signs of what might have caused it to fall.
Just then, there was a knock at the door. Emily sighed in relief, hoping it was Michael checking in on her. She opened the door to find him standing there, his hair slightly damp from the light rain that had begun to fall.
“Hey, Michael,” she greeted him. “Come in. You’re just in time—I think the house is trying to scare me again.”
Michael raised an eyebrow as he stepped inside. “What happened?”
“A picture frame just fell off the wall for no apparent reason,” Emily explained, leading him into the living room.
Michael examined the fallen frame. “That’s odd. It looks like it was securely hung.”
“I know, right? This house has a mind of its own,” Emily said, shaking her head. “I’ve been going through the attic, trying to find out more about the McAllisters.”
“Any luck?” Michael asked, picking up the broken pieces of glass.
“Some. I found a bunch of letters addressed to Margaret. It’s like piecing together a puzzle,” Emily replied.
“I can help you with that if you’d like,” Michael offered, giving her a reassuring smile.
“That would be great. Thanks,” Emily said, feeling a sense of relief.
They headed back up to the attic together. Michael’s presence made Emily feel more at ease, and they worked side by side, sorting through the trunks and boxes. As they sifted through the items, they exchanged stories about their lives, growing more comfortable with each other.
“So, why did you decide to stay in Hollow Creek?” Emily asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“My family’s been here for generations. It’s home,” Michael said with a shrug. “And there’s something about this place that I can’t seem to leave behind. Maybe it’s the history, or the people. Or maybe I just like the quiet.”
“I can understand that. After everything that happened in the city, I needed a fresh start. A place where I could find some peace,” Emily said.
Michael glanced at her. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Emily hesitated, then sighed. “I went through a rough breakup. It felt like my entire world was falling apart. I needed to get away, to find myself again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Michael said softly. “But I’m glad you chose Hollow Creek. We could use someone like you here.”
“Thanks, Michael. That means a lot,” Emily said, feeling a warmth spread through her.
As they continued their search, Michael suddenly paused, holding up an old journal. “Hey, look at this. It’s dated back to the 1920s.”
Emily took the journal from him, her heart racing. “This could be exactly what we need.”
They sat down together and carefully opened the fragile pages. The journal belonged to Margaret McAllister, and it detailed her daily life, her hopes and dreams, and, most importantly, her fears. As Emily read aloud, she felt a deep connection to the woman who had once lived in her house.
June 3, 1927
The house feels different today. There are strange noises in the night, and I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being watched. Thomas says it’s just the wind, but I’m not so sure. I fear for our children, Elizabeth and James. They are so young, so innocent. I pray that we are safe here, but I cannot ignore the unease that grips my heart.
“Margaret sounds terrified,” Emily said, glancing up at Michael. “What do you think she was afraid of?”
“I don’t know, but it sounds like she believed something was in the house,” Michael said, his brow furrowing. “Maybe the legends are true.”
Emily continued reading, her voice growing more somber with each entry. Margaret wrote about strange occurrences—objects moving on their own, whispers in the night, and shadowy figures glimpsed out of the corner of her eye.
July 15, 1927
The storm last night was terrible. The lightning seemed to strike right above our heads, and the house shook with each clap of thunder. Thomas insists it’s just a storm, but I feel it’s more than that. There is a darkness here, something that seeks to harm us. I fear we are not alone in this house.
“Michael, this is getting really creepy,” Emily said, her voice trembling slightly.
“I know. But it’s also fascinating. Margaret’s experiences could explain the strange things happening now,” Michael replied, leaning closer to read over her shoulder.
They spent the rest of the afternoon engrossed in the journal, piecing together the story of the McAllister family. Emily felt a growing determination to uncover the truth and, hopefully, bring peace to the spirits that seemed to linger in her home.
As they reached the final entry, Emily’s heart pounded with anticipation.
August 12, 1927
I fear this will be my last entry. The darkness grows stronger each day, and I can no longer protect my children. Thomas has gone to seek help, but I don’t know if he will return in time. To whoever finds this journal, please understand that we did our best to fight whatever evil resides in this house. Take care of my children, if you find them. And may God protect us all.
Emily closed the journal, her hands trembling. “What happened to them? Did they ever find the children?”
Michael shook his head. “No one knows for sure. The children were never found, and the house has been empty ever since. Until you moved in.”
Emily sat back, her mind racing. “There has to be more to this. Something we’re missing.”
“We’ll figure it out, Emily. Together,” Michael said, his voice firm and reassuring.
“Thank you, Michael. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Emily said, feeling a deep sense of gratitude.
“We’re in this together now,” Michael replied, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.
As the storm outside intensified, Emily and Michael made their way back downstairs, the journal clutched tightly in her hands. The house seemed to hum with a new energy, as if responding to their discoveries.
“Do you think the spirits are trying to communicate with us?” Emily asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s possible. But we need to be careful. Whatever is in this house, it’s powerful,” Michael warned.
“I’m not afraid. I just want to help them find peace,” Emily said, determination shining in her eyes.
Michael nodded. “And we will. But let’s take it one step at a time. We’ve made a lot of progress today.”
“Agreed,” Emily said, feeling a renewed sense of purpose.
As the rain poured down outside, they settled in the living room, the flickering fire casting shadows on the walls. Emily couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, but with Michael by her side, she felt ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
“Here’s to uncovering the truth,” Michael said, raising an imaginary glass.
“And to bringing peace to the McAllisters,” Emily added, clinking her imaginary glass against his.
Together, they sat in silence, the weight of the past heavy around them. But for the first time since she had moved into the old Victorian house, Emily felt a glimmer of hope.