"The Night Inside"

The storm outside raged with a ferocity that hadn’t been seen in years. Rain hammered against the windows of the old farmhouse, accompanied by sharp cracks of thunder that made the ancient wooden beams tremble. Lightning illuminated the surrounding fields in brief flashes, revealing the swaying silhouette of the wheat fields that stretched for miles. Inside, a small group of friends huddled around the fireplace, their voices low, caught somewhere between nervousness and excitement.

It had been a long drive out into the countryside. Emily, the one who had found the place, insisted that a weekend getaway would be exactly what they all needed. They had rented the house for a few days, a chance to escape from the grind of their daily lives. It was supposed to be relaxing, tranquil—just the six of them, isolated from the rest of the world. But when they arrived, something about the place seemed off.

The farmhouse had stood for more than a century, weathered and scarred by time, its once-bright paint now peeling and faded. The front door creaked ominously as they entered, the floors groaning under their weight with every step. Dust clung to the corners of the rooms, and the air inside was thick with the scent of mildew and decay, as though the house had been waiting too long for anyone to return.

“Creepy, right?” Jason had said when they first arrived, half-joking, though his voice lacked conviction. “Perfect for a ghost story or two.”

No one laughed.

Now, as the storm lashed the house, the firelight flickered against their faces, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. Emily sat closest to the flames, her knees drawn up to her chest, staring into the embers. Her face was tense, her thoughts far from the lighthearted escape she had imagined. Next to her, Rachel shifted uncomfortably, glancing at her phone, though the storm had knocked out the signal hours ago. Across from them, Mike and Jess whispered to each other, sharing what seemed like a private joke, but even their laughter was strained, uneasy. Only Tom, the last of the group, seemed unaffected. He sat back in an old armchair, one hand lazily swirling a glass of whiskey, the other flipping through an old book he had found on a dusty shelf.

“Anyone else feel… weird about this place?” Emily finally broke the silence, her voice barely louder than the crackling fire.

“Come on, it’s just an old house,” Tom replied, not looking up from his book. “People lived here for years. It’s fine.”

“No, she’s right,” Rachel said, her eyes flicking to the darkened windows. “It feels… I don’t know. It’s like we’re not alone here.”

“Isn’t that the whole point?” Mike grinned, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “A spooky old house, a storm outside—it’s classic horror movie stuff. We should be telling ghost stories, not getting freaked out.”

But no one offered a story. The atmosphere was heavy, thick with an unspoken dread that seemed to seep from the very walls. Emily shifted in her seat, glancing over her shoulder, half-expecting to see someone—or something—standing in the shadows. But there was nothing. Just the darkened corners of the room, the old furniture draped in the faint glow of the fire.

“Alright, that’s it,” Tom said, snapping the book shut and standing up. “I’m going to bed. You guys can sit around and scare yourselves if you want, but I need some sleep.”

He downed the rest of his whiskey and headed upstairs without waiting for a response. The others watched him go, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the house until they faded into silence.

For a while, no one said anything. The storm continued to batter the house, the wind howling through the cracks in the walls. Then, slowly, one by one, the rest of the group made their way to bed, each feeling the weight of something unseen pressing down on them.

The night stretched on, the storm never relenting. Emily lay awake in her room, staring at the ceiling, listening to the creaks and groans of the old house. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt as though someone was watching her, just out of sight. She told herself it was just her imagination, that the isolation and the storm were playing tricks on her mind. But it didn’t help.

To be continued.....catch up part 2