In this area, the lights never come on, there are no visitors, and it's always dead silent. The houses stand empty without residents, and no one wants to buy a home here.
Twelve-year-old Luke Campbell suffers from loneliness - he has no friends, an...
The clock on the mantelpiece struck midnight with a resonant chime. The hour was late, and the entire town was submerged in the depths of slumber. While the rest of the household snored away, blissfully unaware, Luke was wide awake and buzzing with anticipation. His mind was racing wildly. It was high time to escape - the sooner, the better.
With careful, deliberate movements, Luke slipped out from under his cozy blanket. He tiptoed past closed doors, holding his breath in anticipation of any creak or sigh that might betray his stealthy escape. The Campbells' house seemed to sigh with him, its timbers settling into the hush of the night. At the foot of the stairs, Luke paused, casting a nervous glance up and down the hallway. The shadows danced ominously, but the boy shook off the chill that crept up his spine.
As he crept through the front door, he felt the rush of adrenaline course through his veins. Luke has been already outside. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the garden path that led to the outskirts of town. Every step was like a heartbeat and every rustle of leaves urged him onward. The path to the building was full of bushes and roots, but Luke made his way through. Moonlight made strange shadows that moved as he walked.
With each passing moment, the old building loomed closer, its silhouette stark against the darkness of the city. Luke's pulse quickened as he reached the crumbling stone walls. His heart began pounding as if a significant danger was ahead. Yes, it was here. He was here, on Blackwell Road Street. Welcome, my brave little boy.
He stared at the front door which was worn and weathered and probably never renovated since the very beginning. Luke could easily count all its cracks and crevices. Its once vibrant paint had long faded, leaving behind a dull, muted color that blended into the surrounding wood. The wooden panels were warped and uneven, as if years of weathering had bent them out of shape. The handle, a simple wrought iron fixture, showed signs of heavy use, its surface worn smooth by countless hands that had turned it over the decades.
Luke hesitated only for a moment before stepping across the threshold - there was no time to get anxious and no opportunity to step back. He opened the front door slowly, trying not to make any noise. Large iron hinges, rusted with age, groaned faintly as the door swung open... but noone seemed to hear it.
Inside, it was dusty and quiet. The moonlight shone through cracks in the walls. Nobody is here except for the boy. Or does it just look like this?..
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But what if he still doesn't succeed? The fools will simply kill Luke, they won't leave him the slightest chance. No one will pay attention if something goes wrong for the boy. They'll conclude he's just a coward or didn't want to help them at all. But if those idiots are so tough and brave, then why don't they find what they need themselves? Why send someone weaker on such a mission?
Luke quickly brushed aside these thoughts because they were hindering his further progress. There would be time for contemplation later.
It was necessary to quickly search for the basement of this godforsaken building. Time was running out - a guard could appear any minute now, so action had to be taken swiftly. Fortunately, the place wasn't very large, so the search didn't take long.
Deep inside the old building, beneath all the dust and cobwebs, the boy eventually found a basement that everyone had forgotten about. Luke rapidly walked down the creaky stairs and it felt like going back in time or finding a pirate's treasure trove. The air smelled old and musty, and the dim light made shadows dance on the stone walls. It was that same place.
There were piles of dusty boxes and barrels everywhere. On the shelves, you could find all kinds of things—old books with cracked covers, brass instruments that looked ancient, and jars filled with who-knows-what.
In one corner, there were these old bikes leaning against the wall. They were rusty but still looked ready to ride. Nearby, there were these paintings that were kinda faded but still bright in their own way. And shelves filled with glass bottles lined another part of the basement, each one probably holding some crazy story. It felt like a time machine, taking you back to a whole different world. You could hear water dripping now and then, which made the whole place even more mysterious.
In a nutshell, there you could find every antique imaginable. But what Luke was supposed to find was not even hinted at. No gilded cigarette box. Perhaps it had long been removed from here? Or is the boy searching in the wrong place? There was not a single gilded object here.
"Who's there? I swear I am going to call the police!" An unfamiliar voice immediately echoed from above in the corridor.
Luke didn't realize how he ended up in the closet of the same basement, tightly closed and holding his breath. Within moments, the boy saw through the crack a burly man with a stern expression etched across his face. His uniform was crisp and neatly pressed, unlike to the dusty surroundings, and his boots were perfectly polished. He stood with authority, scanning the area with sharp eyes that missed nothing. Every movement he made seemed deliberate and calculated - a visible result of his training and experience. The security guard appeared to be in his mid-40s, with a solid build and a weathered face that hinted at years spent on duty. His hair has been already peppered with hints of grey.
The man double-checked to ensure there was no one in sight. Satisfied, he quietly eased himself into the chair, pulled out a cigarette, and with a flick of his lighter, brought it to life. As the tendrils of smoke curled lazily upwards, he unfolded his newspaper and immersed himself in its pages, oblivious to the passing time.
Luke realized that this would take a long time, and sitting in the closet until morning without breathing seemed like a dubious idea. It was necessary to move on, but where to?
The boy had been idly exploring the closet when his fingers brushed against something unexpected—a set of small doors nestled in the back wall. Intrigued, he pulled them open and found himself staring into a dark tunnel. He hesitated for a moment before his phone's flashlight pierced the gloom, revealing a narrow passage disappearing into the unknown.
The tunnel was chilly and enveloped in an eerie silence broken only by the soft shuffle of Luke's footsteps echoing against the damp walls. Shadows danced ominously, but undeterred, the boy pressed on. As he ventured deeper, his heart raced with a touch of fear and his mind conjured up tales of secret passages.
After what felt like an eternity of cautious exploration, Luke's beam of light revealed a set of small iron doors at the far end of the tunnel. Luke cautiously opened the doors which creaked treacherously, making an unnecessary noise. The boy had no idea where he would end up or to which room this godforsaken tunnel would lead him, but he had no other choice. Just a moment more and...
The first thing he saw was the clear, cloudless sky, completely covered with stars. Luke emerged right onto the street, where there were plenty of chances to hide from the guards and other unpleasant characters. He walked a few more meters until he felt calm enough to look around. It was then that he realized where he was - Dark Lanterns Lane. Yes, that's where he had ended up.
But that wasn't the end of the surprises. In a minute, a very familiar voice resounded behind him:
