It Was a Dark Night

It was a dark night.

The kind of darkness that didn’t just swallow the light—it seemed to devour sound, breath, and even hope.

No stars shone above the thick forest of Black Hollow, a place long cursed in the whispers of the nearby village. For generations, people avoided its depths after sunset. They spoke of lost souls, moving shadows, and the Wailing Woman—a ghost said to scream for her lost children every midnight. But Nathan Carter, a 22-year-old history student from Boston, didn’t believe in such stories.

He had come to the Hollow with a flashlight, a notebook, and his usual arrogance.

His assignment was to collect legends for his thesis, and this village—isolated, surrounded by woods, and drowning in superstition—was perfect. Old villagers had warned him: "Never go into Black Hollow after dark. She watches."

But he had laughed.

Now, as the wind howled and trees groaned like living things, Nathan realized something was wrong.

---

The Whispers Begin

At exactly midnight, as he was scribbling in his notebook near the old stone well in the center of the forest, he heard it.

A whisper.

Faint. Broken.

“Nathan…”

He froze.

“Probably just the wind,” he muttered to himself, tightening his grip on the flashlight. But the air had turned colder—unnaturally cold.

“Nathan… come…”

His flashlight flickered. Then died.

Silence.

Except for the sound of breathing behind him.

He turned sharply—nothing.

But something brushed against his leg. Cold. Wet.

He stumbled backward, heart racing.

Then he saw her.

---

The Wailing Woman

She stood just beyond the tree line, wearing a long, dirty white dress. Her face was hidden beneath long black hair that moved despite the still air. Her hands trembled by her side, and from her throat came a sound—part growl, part sob.

Nathan gasped.

“This can’t be real…”

She raised her head.

Her face—if you could call it that—was a gaping void. No eyes, no mouth. Just hollow darkness. And from that darkness came the scream.

A scream so loud, so full of pain, it seemed to tear into Nathan’s chest.

He ran.

---

The Maze of Shadows

The woods twisted around him. Trees looked different. Paths vanished. He screamed for help, but only the mocking echo of his voice replied.

And then, more whispers. Not one now. Dozens. Hundreds.

“You shouldn’t have come…”

“She sees you…”

“She wants your eyes…”

Branches tore his jacket. Shadows moved like wolves around him. Shapes slithered across the ground. He didn’t know if they were animals or something worse.

He tripped.

Fell into the old cemetery, hidden deep in the woods.

Tombstones—half-buried, cracked. Names too old to read.

Then he saw it.

His own name. On a fresh grave.

---

Buried Alive

Before he could scream, hands burst from the ground.

They pulled at him, dragged him into the dirt.

He struggled, but his limbs felt paralyzed. Numb.

Then she appeared above him again—the Wailing Woman—holding two black marbles in her hands.

His eyes.

He screamed one last time…

…and everything went black.

---

The Morning After

The sun rose over Black Hollow.

Villagers came searching, reluctantly.

They found nothing. No Nathan. No flashlight. No notebook.

But at the edge of the forest, a new grave had appeared.

Fresh soil.

A single stone.

Nathan Carter – Lost to the Hollow.

And if you walk through Black Hollow tonight…

You might hear a whisper:

"It was a dark night..."