Hollow Creek /Finney Blake X Male Oc/

Chapter One: Arrival

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Chapter One: Arrival

August 10, 1978

The hum of the station wagon's engine filled the car as Ethan stared out the window, watching the landscape shift from city skyline to sprawling plains and, finally, the dusty hills leading into North Denver. Every so often, his mom would glance back with a tired smile, while his dad kept his eyes on the road, focused and steady as usual.

It had been hours of winding highways, gas station stops, and the occasional static-laced rock song crackling through the radio. Somewhere around Kansas, his dad had given up trying to find anything decent on the airwaves, so Ethan fished out his harmonica to fill the silence. The melody he played was low and lazy, winding along with the curve of the road, while his mind wandered to his favorite places back in New York-the crowded art shop on Fifth, the record store by the park, the graffiti-splashed walls that he'd once tried to sketch.

Rocky, their German Shepherd, panted happily beside him, sprawled across the backseat with his head resting on Ethan's lap. Whiskers, on the other hand, was curled up in his carrier beside his mom, occasionally peering out as if to check that they hadn't left him behind. His mom leaned over and scratched Whiskers' ears, her smile softening. "Almost there," she murmured, but Ethan wasn't sure if she was reassuring herself or him.

Outside, the clouds drifted over the fields, casting shadows that slid across the car like dark waves. He could feel the change in the air, a drier, heavier heat that wasn't like the busy warmth of New York. The landscape seemed endless-no skyscrapers, no blaring horns, just open sky stretching into the distance.

By the time they pulled into the gravel driveway of their new house, the sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows over the neighborhood. Ethan stepped out, squinting as he took in the old blue house with its creaking shutters and wide, empty yard. It felt different-quieter, older, like it was holding its breath.

"Home sweet home, right, bud?" his dad said, clapping a hand on Ethan's shoulder as Rocky bounded out of the car, barking at some unseen movement down the street. Whiskers, meanwhile, let out a low yowl of discontent as his mom carefully carried him inside.

Ethan's fingers itched for his sketchpad. He could already picture the scene-rough outlines of the sagging porch, the houses lined up in rows, the sharp silhouettes of the elm trees against the setting sun.

Inside, the house felt hollow, like a shell waiting to be filled. Their footsteps echoed as they moved through the rooms, shifting boxes and furniture, each creak of the floorboards emphasizing the unfamiliarity. Sunlight seeped through the windows, casting a dim, golden haze that barely reached the corners. The house had a stillness to it, like an old photograph.

Ethan's mom was already brainstorming aloud, talking about her baking business and the big kitchen where she'd set up her creations. Her eyes sparkled as she walked from room to room, explaining where she'd stack ingredients, how she'd decorate the counter with jars of flour and sugar. Ethan could see it-the smell of chocolate chip cookies, the warm glow of the oven-but part of him missed the way their cramped New York kitchen was just a few steps from every other room.

Once the boxes were stacked in the living room, his dad grabbed his detective's bag from the car, settling it in the corner with an almost reverent touch. His job was why they'd moved here-something about "fresh cases" and "new beginnings." Ethan had overheard the conversation one night, his parents murmuring about safety and work, things they tried to keep from him but couldn't entirely hide.

Ethan wandered to the front porch, feeling the rough wood under his fingers as he looked out at the neighborhood. Whiskers had finally ventured out of his carrier, stalking cautiously around the porch steps, sniffing at the unfamiliar scents. Rocky trotted over to Ethan's side, his tongue lolling, as if ready to explore every corner of this strange new place.