unseen threads

Daniel's pov---

I sat cross-legged on my bedroom floor, buried in a mountain of papers, trying to force myself to focus on the history project I had somehow neglected. Cleopatra—how had I ended up on her? The whole thing felt like a joke. I could barely pay attention in class, let alone write a report on someone I'd only read about in a few passing notes.

My mind kept drifting back to the strange happenings from the night before. The shadow in the basement, the voice calling my name. None of it made sense, but a part of me was starting to believe there was something real behind it.

As I flipped through my dad's old journals, looking for some sort of clue, something caught my eye. A photograph slipped from between the pages and fluttered to the floor.

I bent down to pick it up, holding it carefully. The photo was old—sepia-toned and curling at the corners. It showed a group of people standing in front of a house. It wasn't familiar to me, but something about the image made my skin crawl. The people were dressed in old-fashioned clothing, their faces distant and solemn.

Then, my eyes moved to the background, and I froze. There, just outside the frame of the group, was a shadow. It wasn't part of the picture. It didn't match the light source in the photo, and it was too large to be just someone standing off to the side. It almost looked like it was... moving, out of place.

I flipped the photo over, hoping for some clue about what I was seeing. Scrawled on the back was a single word: "Hawthorne, 1987."

Hawthorne. My old hometown. The one I barely remembered.

My heart raced. Why would this photo be here, hidden away in my dad's journals? And why was that shadow so familiar?

Before I could make sense of it, there was a knock at the door.

"Yeah?" I muttered, shoving the photograph into my notebook and quickly closing it.

The door creaked open, and William stepped in. His face was pale, as usual, and his eyes avoided mine.

"You good?" he asked, his voice soft, like he was trying to gauge something.

"Yeah, just homework." I tried to sound casual, but I knew he'd noticed the notebook on the floor. I hoped he wouldn't ask about it.

He glanced down at the scattered papers before looking back at me. His expression was unreadable, but there was something almost... worried in his eyes.

"Dinner's ready," he muttered, backing out of the room.

I didn't answer. I wasn't hungry anyway. I felt a deep unease settle in my stomach, a feeling that had become all too familiar since I'd found that damn photograph.

---

The next day at school, I couldn't stop thinking about the photograph. The shadow, the year, the feeling that it wasn't just a relic of the past. Something about it had awakened a cold, gnawing fear in me, but I wasn't sure what it meant yet.

Between classes, I spotted Alex sitting alone in the library. I wasn't sure why I sought her out, but something about her made me feel like she might know more than I was giving her credit for.

"Hey," I said, slipping into the seat across from her.

Alex didn't look up immediately. She was scribbling something in her sketchbook, her pencil moving quickly across the paper.

"Got a minute?" I asked.

She paused, glancing up at me with a hint of surprise. "Yeah, sure. What's up?"

I hesitated. Part of me felt stupid for even bringing it up, but I couldn't shake the feeling that Alex might be connected to all of this somehow.

"Have you... ever seen anything weird around here? Like, not just the usual stuff? Something that felt... wrong?" I asked, my voice lower than I intended.

She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything right away. Finally, she closed her sketchbook and set it aside.

"I've seen things," she said quietly, her voice holding an edge I hadn't noticed before. "Things I can't explain. You're not the first to feel... off."

Her words sent a chill through me. "What do you mean?"

Alex leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as though considering whether or not to tell me.

"I don't know how to say this," she muttered, "but I think we've both seen something we shouldn't have. Something that's tied to this place. To Hawthorne."

My heart skipped a beat. "Hawthorne? How do you know about that?"

She met my gaze, her expression now unreadable. "You're not the only one with family from there. I've heard things, seen things, felt things..." She trailed off, her fingers tapping nervously against the edge of the table.

"What do you mean, felt things?" I pressed, desperate for some explanation.

Alex hesitated, her eyes darting around the room as if making sure no one was listening.

"I've been to that house in Hawthorne. The one where it all started. My family was connected to it, but they don't talk about it. None of them do." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I think the thing you saw—the thing that's been following you—is connected to that house. To whatever happened there."

My chest tightened. "And what happened there?"

She shook her head. "I don't know. But I know it's coming for us."

I sat there in stunned silence, the weight of her words sinking into my bones. I had thought I was going crazy, that the shadows and voices were just my mind playing tricks. But Alex—someone I barely knew—was saying things that matched exactly what I had been feeling.

Suddenly, a loud sound shattered the tension between us. A book fell from a nearby shelf, landing with a soft thud.

Alex and I both froze, our eyes locking.

"That wasn't just the wind," she said, standing up quickly.

"I know," I replied, my throat dry. "That's not... normal."

---

By the time I got home, the air felt thicker than usual, like the house was holding its breath. I walked through the front door, expecting the usual silence. But something was off.

The door to the basement was open, just slightly.

I stared at it for a moment, unable to move. A soft breeze pushed through the crack, and the air smelled faintly of damp earth and mildew.

I didn't know why I did it. Maybe it was the fear that had been building up all day, or the strange words Alex had shared. Maybe it was the fact that I had no answers, and I needed one.

I stepped toward the basement door, my heart pounding in my chest.

The soft whispering came again, this time louder.

"Daniel..."

I froze.

That voice wasn't mine.