The town where memories last forever：Chapter 1

Part One: The Town That Forgot How to Smile

Allison Grant had seen her fair share of strange places, but none quite like Hollow Creek.

The drive into town took longer than expected. Her cell phone signal had gone out two hours earlier, and even her GPS had become erratic, leaving her to follow a crumpled paper map. As she passed a faded wooden sign that read "Welcome to Hollow Creek - Population 1,128," she shuddered despite the warm autumn sun.

At first glance, the town seemed...normal. Neat rows of old houses, with a diner, a hardware store, and a gas station lining the main street. But something felt off. The streets were empty. The few people she saw either avoided her gaze or stared too long, their expressions blank and unreadable.

She pulled up in front of the Hollow Creek Inn, a ramshackle two-story building that looked abandoned around 1950. As she entered, the brass bell on the door rang, startling a thin, gray-haired man behind the counter. He blinked at her as if he hadn't seen a new face in years.

"You're not from here," he said calmly.

"Of course," Alison replied with a forced smile. "I'm a reporter, Alison Grant. I'm here to investigate a missing person - Daniel Reid?"

At the name, the man froze, his hands buried under the counter. For a moment, Alison thought, maybe he'd pretend he didn't hear. But finally, he sighed and pulled out a dusty ledger.

"You're going to room 6," he said, sliding a faded key across the counter. His hand shook slightly. "And... if you care about safety, stay indoors after dark."

Alison raised an eyebrow. "Superstitious?"

The man didn't laugh. "Just... be careful," he whispered.

Outside, the sun was beginning to set behind the low hills that surrounded the town. The shadows grew longer and the air cooler. She dragged her luggage up the narrow staircase, the old wooden steps creaking under her weight. She found room number six at the end of the hallway.

The room was plain but clean. A small bed, a cracked dresser, and a window that looked out onto an empty street. She put her bag down and wrote for a while in a leather-bound notebook.

The missing persons report was thin. Daniel Reid, 27, was last seen two weeks ago. No signs of a struggle. No known enemies. No official search and rescue team was organized in town. How strange.

Outside, the last rays of sunlight disappeared. The streetlights flickered, casting long, eerie yellow halos.

Alison decided to rest up and interview the locals the next day. She locked the door, checked the latch again, and crawled into the threadbare quilt.

She must have fallen asleep, because then she heard something whispering.

At first, she thought it was just the sound of the wind blowing in through the cracks in the old window frame. But then she heard it again - a clear and deliberate voice, low and harsh, just outside the window.

"Alison..."

Her blood froze. Her heart pounding, she slowly sat up and stared at the window. Through the thin curtains, she vaguely saw someone - or something - standing outside the glass window.

A hand pressed against the window glass.

Then, suddenly, it appeared and disappeared.

The night swallowed her figure completely, leaving only silence... and the faint echo of her name still echoed in the room.