The Haunting of Blackwood Manor

Chapter 22: The Laughing Shadow

The car ride to the mayor’s office was a tense and silent affair. Inspector William Graves, his knuckles white as he gripped the steering wheel, tried to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Beside him, Eleanor Blackwood sat stiffly, her gaze locked on the road ahead, but her thoughts were elsewhere, mired in the fear and uncertainty that had gripped her since the first night the smoke ghost appeared. In the back seat, Beatrice Holloway clutched an old, worn notebook tightly against her chest, the faded pages within filled with ancient knowledge that had so far proven useless against the malevolent force that haunted them.

As they approached the mayor’s office, a deep sense of foreboding settled over them like a heavy blanket. The once-bustling municipal building now stood eerily quiet, its windows dark, and its doors ominously ajar. The only sound was the steady hum of the car engine, which Graves reluctantly killed as they pulled to a stop. The silence that followed was oppressive, a stark reminder that something terrible had happened here.

The three of them exited the car, moving slowly toward the entrance as if they were approaching the lair of some terrible beast. Inside, the air was thick with the stench of death, the metallic tang of blood mixing with the musty odor of decay. Graves led the way, his flashlight cutting through the darkness as they stepped over the threshold and into the foyer.

The scene that greeted them was nothing short of horrific. Bodies lay scattered across the floor, their faces twisted in expressions of terror. Some had tried to flee, their final moments spent in desperate attempts to escape the inescapable. Others had been caught mid-action, their hands still clutching pens, papers, or phones as they were struck down by the unseen force. The only sound was the faint dripping of blood, which pooled in thick, dark puddles on the marble floor.

Eleanor gasped, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle a scream. Beatrice’s face paled, but she forced herself to remain composed. Graves, though experienced in the grim realities of his profession, felt his stomach churn at the sight. The smoke ghost had been here, and it had left nothing but death in its wake.

Beatrice’s mind raced as they moved deeper into the building. The creature they were dealing with was no ordinary spirit, no mere ghost bound by the rules of the living world. It was something ancient, something powerful, and she was beginning to fear that it was beyond anything they could hope to understand, let alone defeat. Still, she clung to the belief that knowledge was their best weapon, that if they could only unravel the mystery of its origins, they might stand a chance.

Finally, they reached the mayor’s office, the door hanging crookedly on its hinges. The room beyond was a scene of devastation. Furniture had been overturned, papers strewn across the floor, and in the center of it all lay the mayor’s body, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the ceiling.

Beatrice hesitated, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel it, a presence in the room with them, watching, waiting. Her hands trembled as she opened the notebook and began to speak, her voice shaking with a mixture of fear and determination.

“Nihilus,” she called out, the name she had pieced together from the fragments of knowledge she had gathered. “If that’s what you are, if that’s what you call yourself, show yourself! We know what you’re doing, and we won’t let you continue—”

Before she could finish her sentence, a deep, echoing laugh filled the room, reverberating off the walls and sending chills down their spines. It was a sound that spoke of ancient malevolence, of a being that had existed long before humanity and would continue to exist long after. The laugh grew louder, more mocking, as if the creature was amused by their feeble attempts to confront it.

Eleanor’s eyes widened in terror as a dark, swirling mist began to coalesce in the corner of the room, taking on a vaguely humanoid form. The smoke ghost, *Nihilus* as Beatrice had called it, loomed before them, its shifting, shadowy shape almost too much to comprehend. It radiated a cold, unfeeling malice that seemed to suck the warmth from the room.

But the most terrifying thing of all was its voice—a deep, resonant whisper that seemed to come from all directions at once. “*Nihilus*?” it said, the word dripping with disdain. “You think you know me? You think that’s my name? Foolish woman, you know nothing of what I am.”

Beatrice took a step back, her heart pounding in her chest. “If that’s not your name,” she stammered, “then what are you? What do you want?”

The creature laughed again, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to shake the very foundations of the building. “I am more than you could ever comprehend,” it said, its voice a sinister murmur that sent shivers down their spines. “I am older than your gods, older than this world. I have been called many things by those who have glimpsed the truth, but *Nihilus* is not one of them. I am something far greater, far darker.”

Beatrice felt a cold sweat break out on her forehead. She had been so sure, so convinced that she was on the right track. But now, standing in the presence of this terrifying being, she realized just how wrong she had been.

“Then what are you?” she asked again, her voice barely a whisper.

The smoke ghost’s form shifted, its smoky tendrils swirling around them. “I am someone you know,” it hissed, its voice filled with malice. “And yet, I am someone you do not know. I am the darkness that lurks in the hearts of men, the shadow that haunts your nightmares. I am the reason you fear the dark.”

Eleanor’s heart raced as she tried to comprehend the creature’s words. “What do you want with us?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

The smoke ghost’s laughter filled the room once more. “You will find out soon enough,” it said. “But for now, I will leave you with this.”

Before any of them could react, the smoke ghost’s shadowy form lunged forward, enveloping Beatrice in its cold, suffocating embrace. She gasped, her eyes wide with terror as the creature’s tendrils wrapped around her throat, cutting off her air. The others watched in horror, powerless to stop it.

And then, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the creature released Beatrice, its smoky form receding into the shadows. Beatrice collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath, her body trembling with fear.

The creature’s voice echoed through the room one last time, a sinister whisper that sent chills down their spines. “Remember, you know nothing of what I am,” it said. “But I know everything about you.”

With that, the smoke ghost vanished, leaving the room in an eerie silence. Inspector Graves rushed to Beatrice’s side, helping her to her feet. She was shaken but alive, though the terror of the encounter still clung to her like a shroud.

Eleanor stared at the spot where the creature had disappeared, her mind reeling. “What did it mean?” she whispered, her voice filled with confusion. “What is it?”

Graves shook his head, his expression grim. “I don’t know,” he said. “But whatever it is, we’re in way over our heads.”

Beatrice nodded, her hands still trembling. “It’s not just a ghost,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s something far worse.”

As they stood in the eerie silence of the mayor’s office, the weight of the creature’s words hung heavy in the air. They had thought they were dealing with a malevolent spirit, but now they realized the truth was far more terrifying. The smoke ghost, whatever it truly was, had only begun to reveal its true nature. And they were running out of time to stop it.