WebNovels

Chapter 12 - Secrets in the walls

Robert stood frozen in the old parlor, staring at Mrs. Halloway's still form. The silence in the room was suffocating, as though the very air had been stolen. William hovered near the doorway, pale and wide-eyed, his hands twisting nervously at his sides.

"We can't stay here," William whispered. "What if it comes back?"

Robert forced himself to move, pulling the boy gently away from the door. "It already came," he said grimly. "But if she knew enough to warn us, she might have left something behind. Notes. Records. Anything."

They began to search. The house creaked with every step, the old wood groaning like it resented being disturbed. Drawers revealed nothing but brittle letters and yellowed photographs. Shelves of books sagged under their weight, most coated in dust.

Then Robert noticed something strange. A section of the wall behind the old woman's chair didn't quite match the rest. The wallpaper there was newer, patched over, as if someone had tried to hide a repair.

He pressed his hand against it. Hollow.

"Dad?" William asked nervously.

Robert pried at the edge until the panel gave way, revealing a narrow cavity hidden within the wall. Inside, wrapped in cloth, was a weathered leather journal.

His pulse quickened as he pulled it free. The leather was cracked, the pages stained with age and ash. On the cover, in faded ink, one word had been written in a shaking hand:

The Hollow.

Robert exchanged a look with William. The old woman might be dead, but her voice wasn't silenced completely.

The Hollow had rules. And now, at last, they held the key to learning them.

_____________________________

Robert flipped the journal open with careful hands. The pages smelled of mildew and smoke, the ink faded but still legible. The handwriting was jagged, desperate, as though each word had been scratched onto the paper in haste.

Most of the entries were fragmented—lists of names, half-formed prayers, warnings scrawled in the margins. But one page stood out. A single sentence written again and again, the ink pressed deep into the paper:

"Never speak its name where shadows gather."

William frowned. "That's… it? That's the rule?"

Robert read it again, his chest tight. The words seemed to crawl across the page, alive in their own way. He thought of Mrs. Halloway's warnings, of how she had whispered instead of speaking openly. He thought of the strange marks on her throat.

"She broke it," Robert whispered. "She spoke too much. That's why it took her."

William swallowed, glancing at the darkened corners of the room as though the Hollow itself might be listening even now. "Then there are more rules… aren't there?"

Robert closed the journal, his jaw tightening. "At least two more. And if we don't find them…" He didn't finish the thought.

The house groaned again, louder this time, and a gust of cold air swept through the open window, snuffing out the single lamp that had been burning.

Both of them froze.

The Hollow was listening.

Clutching the journal, Robert grabbed William's hand. "We're leaving. Now."

They stepped out into the night, the weight of the old woman's warning heavier than ever. One rule had been revealed. Two remained hidden. And the Hollow was waiting.

_____________________________

The morning sky was gray and heavy when the townsfolk gathered at the small cemetery. The air smelled of rain, damp earth, and unease. Mrs. Halloway's coffin rested at the center, draped in a faded cloth, as the pastor's voice carried softly over the crowd.

"She lived long, and she lived faithfully," he said, though his words faltered, as if he didn't quite believe them himself. "And now she rests."

Robert stood among the people, the leather journal tucked beneath his coat. He felt its weight like a secret burning against his ribs. Beside him, William shifted uneasily, his eyes darting between the mourners and the tree line beyond the graves.

No one spoke of how she had been found. No one asked questions. But Robert could see it in their faces—the fear, the suspicion, the unspoken knowledge that her death wasn't natural. That maybe none of them were safe.

When the coffin was lowered, the first raindrops began to fall. The sound of dirt striking wood echoed like muted thunder.

Robert glanced at William, then at the forest in the distance, its shadows watching, listening.

They had one rule. Just one.

And as the rain fell harder, Robert knew it would not be enough.

The Hollow would make sure of it.

More Chapters