Story 910: The House That Hungers

The train’s unnatural screeching faded into silence as Draven and Mira stepped onto the next stretch of their journey. The landscape was an eerie, moonlit countryside, its trees twisted and gnarled like skeletal fingers clawing at the sky. In the distance, nestled in the fog, stood a mansion, its gothic spires stabbing into the night.

Mira exhaled sharply. “That wasn’t here before.”

Draven, gripping his shotgun, narrowed his eyes. “Nothing ever is.”

A black iron gate stood ajar, its hinges creaking as if whispering an invitation. Beyond it, the mansion loomed, its broken windows glowing faintly with an unnatural amber light. A sign, rotted and barely hanging, read:

LOCKWOOD MANOR

A name that made Mira’s stomach twist.

“Silas Lockwood,” she murmured. “The detective.”