Chapter 4: The Thing in the Dark

Nathaniel yanked Evelyn forward, his grip like iron around her wrist. She stumbled but forced her legs to move, feet pounding against the rotting planks of the bridge.

Behind them, the whispering rose to an unbearable pitch layered voices, too many to count, murmuring in a language she couldn't understand. The thing in the shadows moved, its form shifting, flickering between shapes as if it couldn't decide what it was.

Evelyn risked a glance back and immediately regretted it.

The figure was closer.

It wasn't running, wasn't walking. It glided, its body unraveling and re-forming like it was struggling to hold itself together. Its face or what should have been a face was a void, a black hollow that sucked in the light around it.

A wave of cold slammed into Evelyn, knocking the air from her lungs.

She staggered.

Nathaniel cursed, catching her before she fell. "Don't look at it!"

He dragged her forward, the two of them sprinting for the tree line.

The air pressed against Evelyn's skin like a living thing, cold and suffocating. The whispering grew sharper, more frantic, and the ground beneath them seemed to pulse, like something unseen was waking up.

The trees loomed ahead, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. If they could just reach the woods

A sharp, cracking noise split the air.

The bridge shuddered beneath their feet.

Evelyn barely had time to react before the wood splintered beneath her.

With a cry, she plunged into darkness.

The Drowning Place

Cold.

Freezing.

Evelyn hit the water hard, the impact knocking the breath from her lungs. The river swallowed her whole, dragging her down.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Then something moved beneath her.

She thrashed, kicking wildly, but the current was too strong. It pulled her deeper, the blackness swallowing the last traces of moonlight.

Her chest burned. She needed air.

She forced herself to look down and saw hands reaching for her.

Pale, ghostly, rising from the depths like they had been waiting.

One brushed against her ankle, fingers impossibly cold.

A scream tore through her throat, lost in the water.

Then an arm wrapped around her waist, yanking her upward.

Nathaniel.

He kicked hard, breaking the surface. Evelyn gasped, sucking in a lungful of air as the current pulled them toward the riverbank. Nathaniel fought against it, dragging her toward the shallows.

They collapsed onto the rocky shore, coughing, shivering, lungs burning.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Evelyn turned, her voice hoarse. "What the hell was that?"

Nathaniel wiped a hand over his face, his breath unsteady. "I don't know. But it's getting stronger."

Evelyn's gaze drifted back toward the water.

The river was calm now, as if nothing had happened.

But she knew better.

Those hands those things had been waiting.

And somehow, she had the sinking feeling they were waiting for her.

The Town That Forgot

Evelyn sat on the floor of Nathaniel's cabin, wrapped in a thin blanket, her clothes still damp from the river. The journal lay open in front of her, its pages warped with age and something darker stains that looked too much like old blood.

Nathaniel sat across from her, tending to a small fire in the wood stove. His jaw was tight, his shoulders tense.

"You should've told me," Evelyn said, her voice hoarse.

Nathaniel didn't look at her. "Told you what?"

"That Lillian was taken. That the disappearances weren't just people running away." She flipped through the journal's pages, stopping at one scrawled entry:

They don't remember. That's how it works. It takes them, and then it erases them.

She swallowed hard. "What does this mean?"

Nathaniel exhaled. "You ever notice how no one in this town talks about the missing? How they just move on?"

Evelyn frowned, thinking back. The day she arrived, she had expected some kind of memorial for Lillian. A plaque. A mention in the local paper. Something.

But there was nothing.

Like she had never existed.

Her stomach twisted. "You're saying people forget?"

Nathaniel finally met her eyes. "Not all at once. First, their faces blur in memory. Then their names slip away. Until one day, it's like they were never there at all."

Evelyn's breath hitched. "But I remember."

He nodded. "So do I. And so did Lillian."

A heavy silence settled between them.

Then Nathaniel said, "There's one person who might still have answers. But she won't talk easily."

Evelyn narrowed her eyes. "Who?"

Nathaniel hesitated. "Miriam Foster."

Evelyn's stomach dropped.

Miriam Foster had been Lillian's neighbor. A woman who, even before Lillian's disappearance, had been whispered about eccentric, paranoid, always muttering about "watchers in the woods."

If anyone in town knew the truth, it would be her.

Evelyn took a steadying breath. "Then we go to her."

Miriam's House – Midnight

Miriam's house was falling apart.

The paint had peeled to reveal warped wood beneath. The porch sagged. The windows were covered with thick curtains, as if to keep something out.

Nathaniel knocked once.

No answer.

He knocked again, louder. "Miriam, it's me."

A rustling sound came from inside. Then, after a long pause, the door creaked open a sliver. A single eye peered through the gap.

"You shouldn't have come here." Miriam's voice was a rasp.

"We need answers," Evelyn said.

Miriam's gaze darted between them. Then, finally, she unlatched the door and ushered them inside.

The air was thick with dust and the scent of burnt sage. Books and old photographs littered the room. But the thing that sent a chill down Evelyn's spine

The walls.

They were covered in drawings.

Black, jagged sketches of shadowy figures, faceless things reaching from the woods. Some of the pages had symbols Evelyn didn't recognize.

"You're looking where you shouldn't," Miriam whispered, locking the door behind them. "And it knows."

Evelyn's skin prickled. "What is it?"

Miriam's expression darkened.

"The Hollow One."

Nathaniel inhaled sharply, as if he had heard the name before.

Miriam pressed a shaking hand to her temple. "It's not a ghost. Not a demon. It's older than that. It feeds on memory. The more it takes, the more people forget. That's why the town doesn't remember the missing."

Evelyn's pulse hammered. "Then why do we remember?"

Miriam's lips trembled. "Because it hasn't finished with you yet."

The room went silent.

Then

A knock at the door.

Not a normal knock.

A slow, deliberate tap… tap… tap.

Evelyn's blood ran cold.

Miriam grabbed their arms, her nails digging into their skin.

"Don't. Open. The. Door."