Chilling tales for the restless night

Whispers of Hollow Creek

The Simmons family had been looking forward to their road trip all year. John and Laura, with their two teenagers, Ryan and Emma, piled into their SUV and set off to explore the countryside. It was supposed to be a chance to reconnect before Emma left for college in the fall—a simple adventure through small towns and scenic hikes.

The trip was smooth until dusk settled over the horizon. The empty highway stretched before them when Ryan first noticed the strange noise from the engine—a sputtering that grew louder with each mile. John gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white. The car jerked, sputtered, and then stopped dead in the middle of the road.

"Dad?" Emma said, her voice uneasy as she peered out the window at the dense woods surrounding them.

"It's fine, it's just a minor problem. I'll take a look," John said, but there was a nervous edge to his voice. He stepped out and popped the hood. The engine hissed, but nothing seemed wrong.

"No signal," Laura muttered, holding up her phone.

"Awesome," Ryan groaned, slumping in his seat.

Emma pointed to a worn sign ahead. "There's a town a few miles up the road. Maybe they have a mechanic."

With no other options, the family decided to walk, hoping the town would have a place to fix the car. The air grew colder as they made their way along the deserted road, the wind rustling through the trees like whispers.

Finally, they arrived at the town. It was small—too small, almost forgotten by time. The buildings were old, their paint peeling, the streets eerily empty. There were no cars, no lights, no signs of life.

"Hello?" John called out into the silence. His voice echoed, unanswered.

Suddenly, from the shadows of one of the houses, a figure appeared. A tall man with pale skin and hollow eyes stepped forward. His smile was unnaturally wide.

"Visitors?" the man said, his voice strangely soothing. "You must be lost."

Laura forced a smile. "Our car broke down. Do you have a mechanic?"

The man nodded slowly, his smile never fading. "Yes. We can help. Follow me."

Something about him made Emma's skin crawl. She exchanged a glance with Ryan, who shifted nervously beside her. The man led them through winding streets, past darkened houses. Everything was too quiet. Too still.

He brought them to a large, decaying house on the edge of town. "Stay here for the night," he said, his eyes flickering toward the other houses. "In the morning, we'll have someone look at your car."

With little choice, they agreed and stepped inside. The house was cold, the air heavy with dust and the scent of mildew. As they explored, something felt wrong—like the walls themselves were watching them.

"I don't like this place," Ryan muttered as he and Emma settled in one of the upstairs rooms.

"Me either," Emma replied, glancing at the windows, which were covered with heavy curtains that didn't budge, no matter how hard she tried to open them. "We should leave. Now."

Downstairs, John and Laura were staring at something strange in the living room: a mural that covered the far wall. It depicted the town—only twisted, distorted. The faces of the townspeople painted on the wall were contorted in expressions of agony, their mouths open in silent screams. Among them, Laura thought she recognized someone—*someone who looked just like her.*

"What is this?" Laura whispered, backing away.

Suddenly, the house seemed to breathe, the floorboards creaking beneath their feet. Whispers began to rise from the walls—indistinct at first, but then growing louder. *"Stay with us. Join us."*

John rushed to the door, but it wouldn't open. Not locked—sealed.

"Dad, we need to get out!" Ryan shouted, panic rising in his voice.

They all scrambled to the windows, but they were unbreakable. Trapped.

Outside, the town's residents began to appear. One by one, they stepped into the yard, their pale faces glowing in the moonlight, their eyes dull and lifeless. The man who had welcomed them stood at the front, smiling that same too-wide smile.

"They're not alive," Emma whispered in horror. "They're... trapped."

The whispers inside the house grew louder, insistent. *"Join us. Stay forever."*

John grabbed a chair and hurled it at the window, but the glass didn't even crack. The walls groaned, and the mural on the far wall began to shift. The painted faces were moving, their eyes following the family, their mouths open in soundless wails. Emma's heart sank when she saw her own face slowly appear among them, twisted and trapped within the walls.

Laura gasped, pointing at the mural. "No...no, this can't be real."

But it was. The figures on the mural weren't just random people—they were the souls of past visitors, people who had come to this town long ago and never left. Each one of them, trapped in a limbo, bound to the town forever.

The pale man stepped closer, his voice low and menacing. "This town is not for leaving. It feeds on those who come. Once you're here... you become part of it."

Panic seized John. He threw himself at the door, desperate to break it down, but the house was alive, its walls growing tighter around them.

In a sudden burst of chaos, the front door gave way. Without questioning their luck, the family bolted outside, running as fast as they could toward the road. The townspeople watched, their empty eyes following, but they did not give chase.

When they reached the edge of town, their SUV was sitting in the road, the engine running as if nothing had ever gone wrong. Without hesitation, they jumped inside. John floored the gas, driving until the town was nothing but a dark memory in the rearview mirror.

But as the miles passed, Emma's heart pounded with an unsettling realization. She glanced at her arm—her skin was pale, almost translucent. Slowly, she looked at her family. Their faces were growing more distant, their eyes hollow.

"We didn't escape, did we?" she whispered, her voice barely her own.

And in the silence, the whispers returned, faint but unmistakable.

*"Stay with us."*

They hadn't left the town at all.

The town had *taken them*.