Chapter 3:The secret Of Hollow Creek

The wind slammed against the farmhouse, rattling the windows as Claire's mind raced.

"What do you mean, 'it's starting again'?" she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

Grandma Ruth gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white. "I was hoping you'd never have to know." She took a deep breath, then nodded toward the fireplace. "Sit down, Claire. There's something you need to hear."

Claire hesitated but obeyed, the flickering candle casting long shadows on the walls. Outside, the storm raged on, but all she could think about was the figure by the creek.

"Your grandfather, Henry… he saw it first," Ruth began, her voice low and distant, as if she were pulling the memories from a place she didn't want to revisit. "It was the summer of 1963. Just like tonight, a storm rolled in fast. The sky turned black, and the air was thick with something unnatural. That's when Henry saw him."

Claire swallowed hard. "The figure by the creek?"

Ruth nodded slowly. "He thought it was a drifter at first, someone lost in the storm. But when he called out… the figure didn't move. Didn't speak. Just stood there." She exhaled shakily. "Then, the next morning, the water in Hollow Creek turned black."

Claire felt a chill crawl up her spine. "Black?"

"Like ink," Ruth confirmed. "Dead fish floated to the surface. The animals wouldn't go near it. And Henry—" Her voice cracked for a moment before she forced herself to go on. "Henry changed that night. He wouldn't say what he saw, but he never set foot near the creek again. Three weeks later, he—" She stopped, shaking her