Episode 2: The Vanishing Year
Vanessa stared at the newspaper in disbelief. "Black Hollow Vanishes Overnight – No Survivors Found."
The date: August 6, 1962.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. How could that be possible? She had just arrived in Black Hollow. People were here. She had spoken to the innkeeper. Was this some kind of elaborate hoax?
She grabbed her phone, hoping to search for more information, but the screen showed “No Signal”. Frustrated, she tossed it onto the bed.
A sudden creak outside her door made her freeze. Slow, deliberate footsteps moved down the hall. Vanessa held her breath, listening. The footsteps stopped right outside her room.
Knock. Knock.
Her stomach twisted. It was nearly midnight—who would be knocking?
She hesitated before stepping toward the door. "Who is it?"
Silence.
She waited a moment longer before cautiously unlocking the door and peeking outside. The hallway was empty, except for a single sheet of yellowed paper lying on the floor.
Vanessa picked it up, her fingers trembling as she read the words scrawled in ink:
“You don’t belong here. Leave before August 6.”
Her breath caught. August 6 was only three days away.
A cold draft swept through the hall, making the candle sconces flicker. Then, from the far end of the corridor, a shadow shifted.
Not a person—something darker, more fluid, like ink bleeding into the air. It had no form, no face, just a gaping void where its head should be.
Vanessa stumbled back into her room and slammed the door. Her hands shook as she locked it, pressing her back against the wood. The air felt heavier now, charged with something unseen but undeniably present.
She looked at the paper again, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.
Three days.
What had happened in Black Hollow on August 6, 1962?
And more importantly—what would happen to her if she stayed?
Follow for more
Vanessa stared at the newspaper in disbelief. "Black Hollow Vanishes Overnight – No Survivors Found."
The date: August 6, 1962.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. How could that be possible? She had just arrived in Black Hollow. People were here. She had spoken to the innkeeper. Was this some kind of elaborate hoax?
She grabbed her phone, hoping to search for more information, but the screen showed “No Signal”. Frustrated, she tossed it onto the bed.
A sudden creak outside her door made her freeze. Slow, deliberate footsteps moved down the hall. Vanessa held her breath, listening. The footsteps stopped right outside her room.
Knock. Knock.
Her stomach twisted. It was nearly midnight—who would be knocking?
She hesitated before stepping toward the door. "Who is it?"
Silence.
She waited a moment longer before cautiously unlocking the door and peeking outside. The hallway was empty, except for a single sheet of yellowed paper lying on the floor.
Vanessa picked it up, her fingers trembling as she read the words scrawled in ink:
“You don’t belong here. Leave before August 6.”
Her breath caught. August 6 was only three days away.
A cold draft swept through the hall, making the candle sconces flicker. Then, from the far end of the corridor, a shadow shifted.
Not a person—something darker, more fluid, like ink bleeding into the air. It had no form, no face, just a gaping void where its head should be.
Vanessa stumbled back into her room and slammed the door. Her hands shook as she locked it, pressing her back against the wood. The air felt heavier now, charged with something unseen but undeniably present.
She looked at the paper again, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.
Three days.
What had happened in Black Hollow on August 6, 1962?
And more importantly—what would happen to her if she stayed?
Follow for more
Episode 2: The Vanishing Year
Vanessa stared at the newspaper in disbelief. "Black Hollow Vanishes Overnight – No Survivors Found."
The date: August 6, 1962.
Her pulse pounded in her ears. How could that be possible? She had just arrived in Black Hollow. People were here. She had spoken to the innkeeper. Was this some kind of elaborate hoax?
She grabbed her phone, hoping to search for more information, but the screen showed “No Signal”. Frustrated, she tossed it onto the bed.
A sudden creak outside her door made her freeze. Slow, deliberate footsteps moved down the hall. Vanessa held her breath, listening. The footsteps stopped right outside her room.
Knock. Knock.
Her stomach twisted. It was nearly midnight—who would be knocking?
She hesitated before stepping toward the door. "Who is it?"
Silence.
She waited a moment longer before cautiously unlocking the door and peeking outside. The hallway was empty, except for a single sheet of yellowed paper lying on the floor.
Vanessa picked it up, her fingers trembling as she read the words scrawled in ink:
“You don’t belong here. Leave before August 6.”
Her breath caught. August 6 was only three days away.
A cold draft swept through the hall, making the candle sconces flicker. Then, from the far end of the corridor, a shadow shifted.
Not a person—something darker, more fluid, like ink bleeding into the air. It had no form, no face, just a gaping void where its head should be.
Vanessa stumbled back into her room and slammed the door. Her hands shook as she locked it, pressing her back against the wood. The air felt heavier now, charged with something unseen but undeniably present.
She looked at the paper again, her heartbeat hammering against her ribs.
Three days.
What had happened in Black Hollow on August 6, 1962?
And more importantly—what would happen to her if she stayed?
Follow for more
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