Nine Night

Night 6: The Echoes of the Past

As dawn broke over Corwin Hollow, a fragile light spilled into the house, casting long shadows that flickered and danced like restless spirits. Sarah stood in the living room, her heart heavy with the remnants of last night's horrors. The shattered mirrors lay scattered across the floor, their broken fragments reflecting a kaleidoscope of fear and confusion. She couldn't shake the feeling that the house was watching her, the walls whispering secrets she was yet to understand.

Determined to uncover the truth about the darkness that had enveloped her family and the children who had mysteriously vanished, Sarah spent the morning tidying up. Each piece of glass she collected felt like a small victory, yet her thoughts were consumed with worry for her grandmother. Where was she? What had become of her?

The ticking clock on the wall grew louder in her ears as the day dragged on. Sarah could feel the weight of time pressing down on her, urging her to act. When the sun finally dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of crimson and violet, Sarah knew she could no longer delay the inevitable. The attic awaited, a place of forgotten memories and hidden truths.

As she climbed the creaky staircase to the attic, a chill ran down her spine. Each step echoed through the silence, magnifying her anxiety. The door loomed ahead, dark and foreboding. With a trembling hand, she pushed it open.

The attic was a chaotic jumble of old trunks, dusty furniture, and cobwebs that clung to the corners like memories left to decay. A thin beam of moonlight filtered through a small, grimy window, illuminating dust motes that danced like lost souls in the air. Sarah stepped inside, her heart racing, the musty smell of old wood and forgotten memories enveloping her.

She began to sift through the boxes, feeling a strange mix of nostalgia and dread. Among the cobweb-covered trinkets, she found faded photographs of her family, faces smiling yet hauntingly devoid of life. One picture drew her in: a group of children standing in front of the house, their expressions frozen in laughter, but their eyes held a depth of sorrow that sent a shiver through her.

"Who are you?" Sarah whispered, her voice barely above a breath.

As she continued her search, her fingers brushed against something cool and smooth-a leather-bound journal, its cover worn and cracked. She pulled it from the depths of the box, and as she opened it, an overwhelming sense of foreboding washed over her. The pages were yellowed with age, filled with hurried scrawls and trembling handwriting that revealed a dark history.

The first entry detailed the children of Corwin Hollow-children who had vanished, leaving nothing but echoes of their laughter behind. It spoke of shadows creeping into the lives of families, whispers that drove parents to madness. As she read, her breath quickened. The stories mirrored her own experiences-the strange occurrences, the children's laughter, the suffocating darkness that seemed to envelop her.

One entry caught her eye: "They want us to join them. We must find a way to escape this curse." The urgency in the words resonated within her, tugging at her heartstrings. Who had written this? Were they warning her or begging for help?

Suddenly, a cold gust of wind swept through the attic, sending a shiver down her spine. The pages of the journal began to flutter wildly, as if caught in an unseen storm. Panic surged within her as she felt a presence looming in the shadows. Gripping the journal tightly, she summoned her courage.

"Show yourself!" she demanded, her voice steadier than she felt.

From the corner of the attic, a figure began to materialize, coalescing from the darkness-a little girl with pale skin and eyes that glimmered like moonlight. She wore a white dress that fluttered as if caught in an unseen breeze, her expression a mix of sorrow and mischief.