The House Without Shadows Pt.1

It all started with the disappearance of Ethan Blackwood.

Ethan wasn’t the kind of kid anyone would expect to just vanish. Quiet, intelligent, always buried in books, he was the type who preferred the comfort of his own company over noisy crowds. One evening, in the dead of autumn, he went outside to take out the trash. No one saw him again.

For days, the town searched. His parents kept the porch light on, waiting for him to come home. The police scoured the forests and the rivers. Flyers with his picture were plastered on every lamppost. But he was gone.

Then, three weeks later, Ethan appeared again.

It was as if he had simply walked back into town. No one knew how he’d found his way back, but there he was, standing on his doorstep, his clothes torn, his face as pale as death. His eyes—those eyes—were the most disturbing. It was like he was looking through people, not at them.

“Ethan! My God! Where have you been?!,” his mother cried, rushing to hold him.

But he didn’t speak. Not that day. Not in the days that followed.

“I saw them.”

For weeks after he returned, Ethan said nothing. He didn’t eat much, barely slept, and his behavior became increasingly erratic.

Then, one night, Ethan’s sister Maya heard him whispering in his sleep.

“I saw them... They’re calling me…”

Maya froze in the doorway. Ethan’s voice sounded so hollow, so unlike his own. She reached out to shake him awake, but then she saw it. His eyes—wide open, unblinking—staring straight ahead.

“Ethan?” she whispered, her heart pounding.

His lips barely parted. “They pulled me in... to the house…”

Maya’s blood ran cold. The house.

The House Without Shadows

There was an old house on the outskirts of town. No one ever went there. No one really knew who owned it. It was an ancient building, dark and eerie, with no windows, just empty frames staring into nothing. It had been abandoned for as long as anyone could remember.

The neighbors whispered about it—stories about people who’d entered and never come out. Everyone laughed it off as folklore, but after Ethan’s return, Maya couldn’t shake the thought.

She had to know what had happened to him.

“Don’t go there.”

The night was thick with tension. Maya lay in her bed, the sounds of the house creaking all around her.

Then she heard Ethan again. His voice, soft and desperate, coming from the dark.

“They’re waiting... They won’t let me leave... I’m not supposed to be here.”

Maya’s heart raced. She had to wake him up, to make sure he was still her brother. But then—

Knock. Knock.

A faint sound from the hallway. It was almost too soft to hear. Maya’s breath caught in her throat. Who could it be? Her parents were asleep.

Knock. Knock.

This time louder. Right outside her door.

Her hands trembled as she reached for the doorknob. She opened it slowly—and gasped.

There, standing in the hallway, was Ethan. But something was wrong. His face was too still, his eyes too vacant.

“Don’t go there, Maya,” he whispered, his voice cold, hollow. “They’re waiting for you.”

Maya froze. This wasn’t Ethan.

And then, slowly, he closed the door.