The Hollow House

The rain had been falling relentlessly for hours, turning the dirt roads to mud and making the trees in the distance sway eerily in the storm. Mark and his wife, Emma, had been driving for what felt like ages, and the GPS seemed to be getting more and more unreliable. They had been on a road trip, just the two of them, but somewhere along the way, they had veered off the main highway, following what appeared to be a shortcut to their destination.

“Are we lost?” Emma asked, her voice tight with unease.

Mark glanced at the screen on his phone. The signal was spotty, and the map was glitching. “I think we’re close,” he said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. “The address is just a few miles ahead.”

The car’s headlights flickered, and Emma winced. “That’s the third time tonight. Maybe we should turn back.”

Mark shook his head. “It’s fine. The house is just up ahead. Besides, we’ve come this far.”

Just as he finished speaking, the car’s headlights illuminated an old, crumbling house in the distance. It loomed ahead, partially obscured by the rain and trees. Mark squinted, feeling a strange tension in his chest. It looked out of place, like something forgotten by time. The house was enormous, its once grand architecture now covered in vines, and the windows dark and empty.

“We’re here,” Mark said, pulling the car to a stop in front of the long, cracked driveway.

Emma looked up at the house with a mixture of curiosity and doubt. “This place… it doesn’t look like a vacation home.”

“I told you,” Mark replied, “it’s a family property. We inherited it from my aunt.”

Mark’s aunt had always been a mystery to him—an eccentric woman who had lived in the house alone for years before her sudden passing. Emma had never met her, but Mark had fond memories of the visits he made as a child, though they had stopped when his aunt’s health began to decline.

They both stepped out of the car, the cold wind biting at their skin. The house stood in ominous silence, as if it were watching them.

“I don’t like it,” Emma murmured, hugging her arms around her body.

“We’re just here for the weekend. A little rain and an old house won’t hurt anyone,” Mark said, though his voice didn’t sound as convincing as it usually did.

They made their way up the steps and into the front door, which creaked open with a protesting groan. Inside, the air smelled of must and decay, the floorboards groaning beneath their feet. The grand staircase loomed in front of them, its once-polished wood now dull and cracked. The walls were lined with faded portraits and yellowing wallpaper.

Emma shuddered. “This place gives me the creeps.”

Mark laughed lightly, trying to dismiss the strange tension in the air. “It’s just old. Let’s get the lights on and settle in.”

They explored the house, finding it large and cavernous, with rooms filled with dusty furniture covered in sheets. The kitchen was filled with outdated appliances, the refrigerator long emptied, and the living room’s fireplace was cold, abandoned. It was as if time had stood still here, the house frozen in the past.

As the hours passed, the storm outside grew fiercer, the wind howling against the windows. Mark and Emma found their way to the master bedroom, where a large four-poster bed sat beneath a heavy canopy of curtains. It was an imposing room, with dark wood furniture and heavy furniture that seemed to carry a sense of forgotten history.

“I think I’m going to take a quick nap,” Mark said, flopping onto the bed.

Emma didn’t respond, still standing near the door, her eyes fixed on the wall opposite her. It was a strange feeling, like someone was staring at her, though there was no one there. The room was entirely empty except for the furniture.

“Are you okay?” Mark asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

“I don’t know,” Emma replied, her voice low. “There’s something… off about this place. It’s like it’s too quiet, too still.”

Mark glanced over at her and smiled. “It’s just the storm. Let’s get some sleep, and we’ll head out in the morning.”

Emma nodded but didn’t move. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. It wasn’t the house itself—it was them. There was a presence in the room, something invisible yet undeniably there.

Suddenly, Mark froze, his eyes snapping open. A soft sound echoed through the room, faint but unmistakable. It was a whisper, low and almost imperceptible.

“Did you hear that?” Mark whispered, sitting up.

Emma nodded, her eyes wide. “It’s coming from the hallway.”

They both stood up and walked toward the door, their steps tentative. The house groaned around them, and the whispering grew louder, though they couldn’t make out the words. Mark reached for the doorknob, but just before he could open it, the door slammed shut on its own.

“Okay, that’s not funny,” Mark said, his voice tinged with panic.

Another noise—this time a thud—came from the hallway, followed by the faintest sound of footsteps.

Emma’s breath hitched. “We need to leave. Now.”

The whispering continued, louder now, almost like a chant. The air grew colder, and as they backed away from the door, something slammed into it from the other side. The floor trembled beneath their feet, and the walls seemed to close in.

Suddenly, the door flew open, and they found themselves face-to-face with a tall figure standing at the end of the hallway. Its face was shadowed, its features obscured by darkness, but its presence was palpable—unnatural.

Mark and Emma stood frozen, unable to move, as the figure stepped forward. It was then that they saw it: a hollow emptiness where the figure’s face should have been, an endless void that seemed to suck in everything around it.

“You shouldn’t have come,” the figure said, its voice a rasping whisper that echoed in their minds.

The house shuddered, the walls cracking open as if the entire structure was coming to life. And in that moment, Mark understood: the house wasn’t abandoned. It had always been waiting. Waiting for someone to claim it—and now, it had claimed them.

With one last breathless scream, the darkness swallowed them whole, and the house returned to its silence.

The storm raged on outside, but no one would ever find the house again.

It had been lost for far too long.