The Inheritance

Chapter Eight - The Return of The Haunting

That night, after returning to his apartment, Mike sat in front of his computer, researching Abraham Dunn. Hours passed as he sifted through old records, newspaper clippings, and archives, but nothing substantial turned up. Whoever this man was, he was either long forgotten or had been erased from history.

Frustration gnawed at him as he leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. His mind felt raw from the flood of information, but none of it made sense. His grandfather's journal had given him some pieces of the puzzle, but the picture was still incomplete.

He closed his eyes, exhaustion washing over him. And then, in the silence, he felt it.

The air in the room grew heavy, thick with an unseen presence. His eyes snapped open, and his heart pounded in his chest. He didn't need to look to know—it was back.

The shadows moved in the corners of the room, stretching and twisting, forming the same dark figures he had seen so many times before. The whispering voices returned, soft at first, but growing louder with each passing second.

"You're getting closer, Mike."

His body was frozen, but he wasn't asleep. This wasn't sleep paralysis—it was something else. Something worse.

The figures moved closer, their forms more solid than they had ever been before. Mike's breath came in shallow gasps, his mind screaming at him to move, to run, but his body wouldn't obey.

"You can't escape it."

The voice was louder now, more insistent. Mike's eyes darted around the room, searching for any way out, but the shadows had consumed everything. The figures stood at the edge of his bed, watching him.

And then, for the first time, one of them stepped forward.

It wasn't just a shadow anymore. It was something tangible, real. Its hand reached out, cold fingers brushing against his skin. The touch sent a shock through Mike's body, and in that moment, he knew—this wasn't just in his head. The haunting was real.

The figure leaned in, its face obscured by the darkness. But Mike could feel its presence, feel the weight of its gaze.

"You'll never escape."

And then, as suddenly as it had come, the presence was gone. The room returned to normal, the shadows retreating, leaving Mike alone in the silence. But the fear lingered, gripping him tighter than ever before.

He sat up, his hands shaking, his breath ragged. This was no longer just about understanding what was happening. He needed to stop it—before it consumed him like it had consumed his grandfather.