The Hollow Room: Unearthing the Unseen Presence
Julian stood frozen at the end of the dark hallway, her hand still gripping the cold, tarnished door handle. The whisper—soft but insistent—still echoed in her mind. “Come in…”
Her breath caught in her throat. The hallway stretched out before her like an endless tunnel, and for a moment, Julian felt the strange compulsion to step forward. She had always been curious, ever since she was a child. The mysterious "room" her mother had warned her about, the place Julian had never dared to enter... Was this it?
The whispers grew louder in her ears. “Come in… come in…” It was like a chant, coaxing her forward, beckoning her to open the door and step into whatever lay beyond.
But no. Julian shook her head, trying to shake off the suffocating feeling that seemed to crawl under her skin. This is ridiculous, she told herself. Her mother was sick. The house was old and falling apart. Her imagination was running wild. There was no such thing as ghosts, no such thing as the supernatural. She had never believed in those things.
For a brief moment, she considered going back to her room. Just lock the door, crawl under the covers, and pretend this had never happened. But her feet betrayed her, taking one reluctant step forward, then another. She couldn’t stop herself. There was something in the air, something in the house that urged her to keep going.
With a trembling hand, she turned the door handle. It creaked open with a sound that reverberated through the silence of the hallway. As the door slowly swung inward, a cold gust of air rushed past her, sending a chill through her body. She stepped inside.
The room beyond was small, dimly lit by a single, flickering candle in the far corner. Dust hung in the air, thick as fog, and the smell of mildew and decay was overwhelming. The walls were lined with dark wooden paneling, their surfaces etched with time. But it wasn’t the decay or the disrepair that caught Julian’s attention—it was the overwhelming sense of wrongness that filled the room. It felt like a place that had been untouched for years, a place that had been sealed away for a reason.
The room was silent, almost too silent. Julian’s heart pounded in her chest as her eyes scanned the space. The floor was covered in a thick layer of dust, and there were old, cobwebbed furniture scattered throughout the room—a tarnished mirror leaning against the wall, an old armchair draped in a moth-eaten blanket, and a long, narrow table covered in strange, dust-covered objects. But it was the farthest corner of the room that caught her attention.
A large, ornate wardrobe stood there, its doors slightly ajar, as though it were waiting for her to open it.
Without thinking, Julian took a step toward it, her pulse quickening with every movement. The wardrobe seemed to pull at her, drawing her closer, its very presence unnatural. As she approached, she noticed something that made her stop cold—strange marks on the floor, like scratches or gouges, leading directly to the wardrobe. Julian crouched down, her fingers hovering above the ground. The marks were old, but deep, as if something had been dragged across the floor, leaving its mark.
Don’t touch it, she thought. But the urge to explore, to find answers, was overwhelming.
With a shaking hand, Julian reached for the wardrobe’s handle. As soon as her fingers brushed the cold metal, the temperature in the room seemed to drop, and she could see her breath, thin and foggy, in the air. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she pulled the door open.
Inside, the wardrobe was dark. At first, Julian thought it was empty, but as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw it. A single, wooden box sat at the bottom of the wardrobe, covered in dust, its edges worn with age. There was something about the box—its dark, weathered surface, the intricate carvings on its sides—that filled her with dread. It was almost as if it were... alive.
Without thinking, she reached for it, her fingers trembling as she lifted the box from its resting place. It was heavier than it looked, its wood dense and cold to the touch.
And then, suddenly, the door slammed shut behind her.
Continued.....
