The Blackwood Manor didn't look like a horror movie set. It didn't have jagged lightning striking the roof or ravens circling the chimneys. Instead, it was draped in a heavy, suffocating silence. The wrought-iron gates groaned as Hans pushed them open, the sound cutting through the damp evening air like a serrated knife.
“Great atmosphere,” Sarah whispered, adjusting the gain on the audio recorder. She was the bravest of the crew, but even she was walking with her shoulders hunched toward her ears. “The air feels… thick. Like we’re walking through invisible cobwebs.”
Hans led the way, his heavy boots crunching on the overgrown gravel. He carried a high-powered tactical flashlight, but he didn't turn it on. He preferred the twilight. It felt more honest.
“Check the perimeter,” Hans commanded. “Leo, get the drone up. I want an aerial of the layout before we lose the light entirely.”
“I’m trying, boss,” Leo grunted, fumbling with the controller. “But the GPS is haywire. It keeps saying we’re in the middle of a lake. There isn't a lake for ten miles.”
Hans ignored him and stepped onto the porch. The wood was rotted, soft as sponge under his weight. He didn't knock. He simply turned the handle, and the heavy oak door swung inward with a slow, welcoming creak.
The interior smelled of old paper, cedar, and something sharply metallic—like the scent of a penny on your tongue.
“Hello?” Hans called out. His voice didn't echo. The house seemed to swallow the sound instantly. “Is there a Maya here?”
“Probably just a prank, Hans,” Sarah said, her flashlight beam dancing over peeling wallpaper and furniture covered in white dust sheets. “Some kid probably used their parents' credit card to send that donation.”
“Maybe,” Hans said. He wandered away from the group, drawn by a faint light coming from the end of the hallway.
He found himself at the entrance of a massive library. Floor-to-ceiling shelves were packed with thousands of books, their spines cracked and faded. In the center of the room, sitting on a rolling wooden ladder, was a girl.
She looked sixteen, maybe seventeen. She wore an oversized, dark green cardigan and black leggings, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She was holding a thick textbook, flipping through the pages with a focused intensity.
Hans stopped. He didn't feel a shiver, but he felt a strange jolt of surprise. She looked so… normal.
“You’re late for class,” she said without looking up. Her voice was clear, with a slight melodic ring to it.
Hans leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms. “Class? I think I graduated a while ago. You must be Maya.”
The girl finally looked at him. Her eyes were a startling, clear gray—like the surface of a pond just before it freezes. She didn't look like a squatter or a runaway. She looked like she belonged in the room, as much a part of the architecture as the shelves themselves.
“I’m Maya,” she said, closing the book with a soft thud. She hopped down from the ladder, her boots hitting the floor without a sound. “And you’re Hans. The boy who doesn't know how to be afraid.”
“Word travels fast,” Hans joked, though he felt a prickle of curiosity. “What are you doing here, Maya? This place is a condemned crime scene.”
“I’m studying,” she said, walking toward him. As she got closer, Hans noticed the temperature drop. It wasn't just a draft; it was as if he had stepped into a walk-in freezer. “I wanted to be a teacher. You have to study a lot for that. Do you want to see the rest of the house? I know where all the interesting things happened.”
Hans looked back at the hallway. Leo and Sarah were busy setting up a tripod, their backs turned. They hadn't even noticed he was talking to anyone.
“Sure,” Hans said, turning back to the girl. “Show me the ‘secrets.’ That’s what I’m here for.”
Maya smiled. It was a beautiful smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. She reached out and brushed her fingers against his forearm.
Hans froze. Her touch wasn't just cold—it was aching. It felt like dry ice pressing into his skin, a numb, burning sensation that made his heart give one singular, heavy thump against his ribs.
“You’re freezing,” Hans muttered, looking down at his arm.
“It’s just the house,” Maya said softly, already turning toward a dark staircase. “It has a way of sucking the heat out of everything. Come on. The best lessons are always in the basement.”
Hans followed her, his mind racing. He still wasn't scared—not yet—but for the first time in ten years, he felt like he was no longer the one in control of the video.
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and then Add to home screen.