The House on Hollow Hill

Chapter 17: The House on Hollow Hill

As they drove toward Clara's last known address, the mood in the car shifted from excitement to unease. The sky had turned darker, and an oppressive weight hung in the air, as if the world was holding its breath. Lisa clutched the ledger tightly, her knuckles white.

"Do you think anyone still lives there?" Mia asked, peering out the window at the passing landscape. The once-familiar neighborhood began to change, giving way to dense trees and the creeping sensation of isolation.

"I hope so," Tom replied, glancing at Lisa. "We need to find someone who knows about Clara and her family. Maybe they can tell us more about what happened."

After several minutes of driving, they finally arrived at the end of a narrow, overgrown road. The house loomed ahead, nestled among the trees like a forgotten relic. Its weathered wooden façade was shrouded in creeping vines, and the windows were clouded with dust. The air felt charged, electric with an eerie anticipation.

"Is this really it?" Ethan murmured, as they stepped out of the car, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lisa nodded, her heart racing. "This is where Clara lived. I can feel it."

They approached the front porch, the wooden boards creaking under their weight. Tom hesitated, glancing back at the others. "Should we knock? What if no one's home?"

"Let's try," Lisa said, her determination overcoming her apprehension. She stepped up to the door and knocked firmly, the sound echoing through the silence. They waited, straining to hear any movement from within.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly woman with gray hair tied in a loose bun. She squinted at them, her eyes filled with suspicion. "What do you want?"

"Uh, hi," Lisa said, forcing a smile. "We're researching the Starlight Orphanage and found out that Clara lived here. We were hoping to learn more about her."

The woman's expression softened, but only slightly. "Clara... poor child. You're not the first to come asking about her."

Lisa exchanged glances with her friends, curiosity piqued. "You know about her?"

"I knew her family," the woman said, gesturing for them to enter. "Come inside. It's a long story."

As they stepped into the dimly lit living room, the musty smell of old books and dust enveloped them. The walls were lined with photographs, some faded and others barely hanging on. Clara's face smiled down from one of the frames, her dark curls framing a cherubic face that radiated innocence.

"Clara was a sweet girl," the woman continued, settling into a worn armchair. "She had a bright spirit, but life wasn't easy for her or her family. They faced many hardships."

"What happened to them?" Lisa asked, her heart pounding as she leaned forward.

The woman sighed, her gaze drifting to the window. "Her parents were struggling, and they couldn't keep up with the bills. Clara ended up at the orphanage when her family fell apart. I remember the day she left; she was so scared. But she was strong."

"What about the fire?" Tom asked, urgency in his tone. "Did you know anything about that?"

The woman's expression darkened. "The fire took many lives. It was tragic. But there were rumors, whispers about a man—a shadowy figure that some said was seen near the orphanage before it happened."

Lisa felt a chill creep down her spine. "Do you know anything about this man? Was he connected to Clara or her family?"

"People said he was a benefactor, someone who provided for the orphanage but also had a strange hold over the children," the woman said, her voice trembling slightly. "Clara spoke of him sometimes. She was frightened of him. I always wondered if he was the reason for her family's troubles."

Mia exchanged a worried glance with Lisa. "Do you know his name?"

"No one spoke it aloud," the woman replied, shaking her head. "But he was known as Mr. L. It was said that he promised to take children away to a better place, but many believed he was actually a monster in disguise."

Lisa's breath caught in her throat. "That's him—the man from the orphanage."

The elderly woman nodded, her expression grave. "You should be careful. The shadows of the past can linger, and some things are best left undisturbed."

"Do you know where we can find more information about him?" Ethan asked, his voice steady despite the unease that filled the room.

"Some say he left behind journals or records, but no one has seen them for years," the woman replied. "You might find something at the old library or maybe even at the orphanage site itself. But be warned: the truth may not be what you expect."

As they left the house, the weight of the woman's words hung over them like a dark cloud. They climbed into the car, the atmosphere tense with unspoken thoughts.

"We need to go to the library," Lisa said, her determination renewed. "If we can find those records, we might uncover the truth about Mr. L and what really happened to Clara."

Tom nodded, gripping the steering wheel tightly as they set off down the narrow road. The shadows around them deepened, and Lisa couldn't shake the feeling that they were being watched, as if the very trees were listening, waiting for them to uncover the dark secrets buried within the past.