Chronicles of the forgotten

The town of Black Hollow was even quieter at night.

As Eli and Mara left the bookstore, the last traces of sunlight dipped below the horizon, casting the town in an eerie twilight. The few streetlights that remained flickered uncertainly, as if unsure whether to stay on or give in to the darkness. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying wood, and the silence was so profound that even their footsteps seemed to echo unnaturally.

Eli exhaled sharply, his breath visible in the cool night air. "Okay, we've seen enough. Let's go find a motel and figure things out in the morning."

Mara, still shaken from what had happened in the bookstore, barely heard him. The voices—those haunting whispers—lingered in the back of her mind. The way they had called to her, begged her to remember… It felt like a dream she couldn't quite wake up from.

"Mara?"

She blinked. Eli was staring at her, arms crossed, his expression a mix of concern and frustration.

"Yeah… yeah, let's go," she muttered, but her eyes drifted back to the store. The wooden sign still swayed gently in the night breeze, the words *Closed Forever* barely visible in the dim light.

It wasn't closed. Not really.

And it wasn't empty either.

---

The only motel in Black Hollow sat at the edge of town, its neon sign half-burnt out so that it read *M_ _EST LODGE*. The building looked like it had been abandoned for years, its paint peeling and windows cracked. A single, flickering light above the entrance cast long shadows across the parking lot.

Eli parked the car and killed the engine, the silence pressing in around them. "This place looks like a set from a horror movie," he muttered, grabbing their bags from the trunk.

Mara didn't respond. Her mind was still back at the bookstore, replaying the moment she'd touched that book. The way the world had shifted, the voices, the figures… It felt real. Too real.

Inside, the lobby was cold and smelled faintly of mildew. A small bell sat on the counter, but there was no clerk in sight.

"Hello?" Eli called, tapping the counter.

Nothing.

Mara glanced around. A single, dusty clock ticked sluggishly on the wall, its hands frozen at 11:47 PM. The air felt heavy, as if the room itself was holding its breath.

"This place is abandoned too," Eli grumbled, setting their bags down.

"No, it's not," Mara said, pointing to the desk. A single, yellowed ledger lay open. The most recent check-in had been yesterday. Someone else was here.

Just then, a shuffling noise came from the back office. A man emerged—a thin, gaunt figure with sunken eyes and skin that seemed stretched too tightly over his bones. He regarded them with an expression that was neither welcoming nor hostile.

"You shouldn't be here," he said, his voice raspy and low.

Eli frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

The man slid an old-fashioned key across the counter. Room 3.

"Night falls fast in Black Hollow," he murmured. "Best not to wander."

Mara felt a chill creep up her spine. There was something in his tone—a warning, or maybe a threat.

---

Their room was as run-down as the rest of the motel—faded wallpaper peeling at the edges, a single dim lamp, and a window that refused to close all the way. The bed creaked under Eli's weight as he sat down, rubbing his temples.

"We're leaving first thing in the morning," he announced. "This town is dead. There's nothing here but weird vibes and bad hospitality."

Mara sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the wall. "Something happened here, Eli. That bookstore… those books… there's something we're supposed to find."

Eli scoffed. "We were supposed to find a quiet getaway. Not—whatever the hell that was back there."

Before Mara could respond, a faint sound drifted in through the open window.

A whisper.

Soft. Faint.

Like wind moving through hollow spaces.

But the words… the words were real.

"Help us."

Mara's blood ran cold.

Eli froze too, his breath caught in his throat.

Another whisper followed, barely more than a breath.

"He's watching."

Then—a shadow moved outside the window.

---

Mara shot to her feet. Eli was already there, peering outside. The motel parking lot was empty, save for their car. The lone streetlamp cast weak light over the cracked pavement.

"Did you see that?" Mara whispered.

Eli didn't answer at first. He just stared, his jaw tight. Then, slowly, he shook his head.

"It was probably a stray animal," he muttered, though his voice lacked conviction.

Mara swallowed. She wasn't so sure.

A slow dread crawled over her skin as she backed away from the window. The whispers. The bookstore. The feeling of being watched.

Something wasn't right in Black Hollow.

And whatever it was…

It knew they were here.

---

Mara didn't remember falling asleep, but she must have. One moment, she was lying in bed, staring at the cracked ceiling, and the next, she was standing in the bookstore again.

The shelves stretched endlessly, the books glowing faintly. The air hummed with energy, and the whispers were louder now, more insistent.

"Find us."

"Save us."

"Before it's too late."

Mara turned, searching for the source of the voices, but the figures were gone. Instead, she saw a single book lying open on a pedestal. Its pages were blank, but as she approached, words began to appear, scrawled in jagged, hurried handwriting.

*The Library of Lost Souls holds the key. But beware—the Watcher sees all. He will not let you leave.*

Mara reached for the book, but before she could touch it, the ground beneath her gave way, and she was falling—

---

Mara woke with a start, her heart pounding. The room was dark, the only light coming from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside. Eli was asleep beside her, his breathing slow and steady.

She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The dream had felt so real. The bookstore, the whispers, the book… It was all still vivid in her mind.

And then she noticed something.

On the floor, just beneath the window, was a single page. It hadn't been there before.

Mara picked it up, her hands trembling. The page was old, the edges frayed, and the words were written in the same jagged handwriting she'd seen in her dream.

*He's coming.*