
**The Hollow Heart**
In the sleepy, foggy town of Black Hollow, there was a legend of the Lover's Tree. It stood at the forest's border, its gnarled branches reaching toward the sky like skeletal fingers. They said that if you carved the name of your sweetheart and yours into its trunk, your love would last eternally. But they hushed of a cost—no one was willing to speak aloud.
Evelyn had been intrigued by the tree since the start. She was a solitary child, orphaned at an early age and raised by her stern grandmother, who prohibited her from approaching the woods. But Evelyn was curious, and the tree called in her dreams, its whispers smooth and alluring. At the age of eighteen, she disobeyed her grandmother and went to the tree, seeking the love she had always desired.
That is where she met Daniel.
He was new in Black Hollow, a taciturn, moody man with tempestuous sea-blue eyes and a smile that took Evelyn's breath away. They collided at the town harvest festival, and as soon as their gazes locked, Evelyn experienced something she couldn't define. Daniel was everything she had fantasized about—kind, mysterious, and utterly devoted to her. They were inseparable within weeks.
But Daniel was a bit strange. He never discussed his history, and he avoided sunlight, preferring the shadows of evening. His skin was always cold to the touch, and his breath had the faint scent of damp earth. Evelyn tried to brush these oddities away as a product of her own imagination. People did strange things when they were in love, she told herself.
On one night when the moon was full, Daniel led Evelyn to the Lover's Tree. He took her hand as he walked her towards it, his hold strong but soft. "If we inscribe our names here," he said with his low, mesmerizing voice, "we'll be together forever. There will never be anyone between us.
Evelyn hesitated. She remembered the threats, the whispered rumors of those who had been foolish enough to inscribe their initials in the tree and vanished without a word. But Daniel's eyes were so warm with love, so warm with potential, that she could not deny him. Hand in hand, they inscribed their initials in the bark, the blade biting deep into the wood. As they finished, a chill wind swept over the clearing, and the tree shivered.
That night, Evelyn dreamed. She stood in the woods, alone, with the Lover's Tree looming above her. Its branches curled and twisted, and from its trunk emerged a figure—a man with hollow eyes and an open chest where his heart should have been. He reached out to her, his hands clawing, and whispered softly, "You are mine now."
She screamed awake, her heart pounding. Daniel was beside her, his face white and pinched. "It was just a dream," he said, but his words trembled.
The following days were a blur. Evelyn began to glimpse things within herself. Her reflection in the mirror was wobbly; her eyes sunk and hollow. She was constantly cold, no matter how much she wore. And there were the whispers—whispery, deceitful voices that lurked around her every corner, urging her back to the tree.
Daniel withdrew, his friendly smile substituted with a cold, empty stare. One night, he confessed. "I've been here before," he whispered. "I cut my initials into the tree with another person, years ago. But the tree. It killed her. And now it requires you."
Evelyn's blood ran cold. "What are you saying to me?"
The tree does not return love," Daniel informed him, his eyes tragic. "It consumes it. It claims the hearts of those who pledge themselves to it. And then it holds on to you."
Desperate, Evelyn begged him to rescue her, but Daniel shook his head. "I can't," he breathed. "I am bound to it as well. It is too late for both of us.".
That night, Evelyn returned to the Lover's Tree, with something drawing her she couldn't resist. The branches of the tree reached out to her, the trunk splitting in two to reveal a black, yawning pit. She struggled, but the voices were rising, drowning everything else out. She approached closer, and Daniel stood alongside the tree, his vacant eyes filled with tears.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking. “I never meant to hurt you.”
The last thing Evelyn saw was the tree’s branches closing around her, pulling her into the void. When she awoke, she was no longer herself. Her heart was gone, replaced by a cold, empty space. She was bound to the tree, just like Daniel, her soul trapped in its twisted roots.
The people of Black Hollow still shudder at mention of the Lover's Tree, cautioning each other to leave it alone. But occasionally, on nights with a full moon, you see two figures waiting beneath its canopy—a man and a woman with empty eyes aching with need, their locked hands forever conjoined.
And if you have ears to listen, you'll hear the whispers of the tree, beckoning the next soul to claim.



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