The Offering Room

*The Offering Room*

The Hollow Hearth was meant to be a quiet escape. But some doors are better left unopened...

### Chapter One: The Retreat

I needed a break from everything. The city, the deadlines, the endless noise. I needed silence—the kind that settles into your bones and doesn’t let go. So when I found a listing for The Hollow Hearth, an old manor tucked away in the forested hills of the countryside, it felt like fate. A place lost in time, offered for half the price of anything else I could find. I booked it on the spot.

The drive was long and winding, through thick forests and mist-laced valleys. Trees arched overhead like ancient guardians, and the further I went, the more the world I knew seemed to dissolve behind me. By the time I arrived, dusk had fallen, casting the manor in a shroud of twilight. The Hollow Hearth stood tall, framed by gnarled trees and creeping ivy. It looked more like a mausoleum than a home.

Elias, the caretaker, met me at the gate. He was thin, gray-haired, and wore the kind of clothes that suggested he’d never lived anywhere else. He didn’t say much, just handed me an iron key ring and said, “Stay out of the south wing.”

“Why?” I asked, half-smiling.

He just stared at me. “It’s not safe.”

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### Chapter Two: Settling In

The manor was enormous, filled with antique furniture, dusty chandeliers, and oil paintings whose subjects had long been forgotten. I chose a room on the second floor overlooking the back gardens. It was cold, but beautiful. I lit a fire, unpacked my things, and poured a glass of wine. For the first time in months, I felt calm.

The first night passed quietly. The house creaked and groaned like it was breathing, and wind moaned through the chimneys, but that was to be expected. It was peaceful in its own strange way.

But the second night was different.

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### Chapter Three: Shadows in the Walls

It started with a dream. I was walking down a hallway I didn’t recognize, lit only by flickering candlelight. There were doors on either side, each slightly open, each whispering my name. I woke in a sweat, gasping. My room was cold—colder than it should have been. And the fire had long since gone out.

Then I heard the footsteps. Soft, slow, and deliberate. Above me. But there was no floor above, just the attic.

I brushed it off. Old houses settle. I returned to bed.

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### Chapter Four: The South Wing

Curiosity got the better of me the next day. I found the door to the south wing at the end of a dark hallway. It was sealed with a rusty chain and a lock that looked as old as the house. But one of the keys on the ring fit perfectly.

I shouldn’t have opened it.

The air changed the moment I stepped inside. It was still, stale, and thick with the scent of decay. The hallway was lined with portraits whose faces had been scratched out. The floor was covered in a red carpet, worn down to threads.

At the end of the hall was a single door. The offering room.

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### Chapter Five: The Room That Waits

I didn’t go in that day. I stood at the threshold, heart racing, feeling something beyond the door. Watching me. Waiting.

That night, the dreams returned. This time I was inside the room. Candles flickered on the walls, casting long shadows. In the center was a stone slab, stained dark. And surrounding it were figures in hoods, chanting in a language I couldn’t understand.

I woke to find the fireplace extinguished and the room freezing. The door to my room was open, and the key to the south wing lay on my bedside table.

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### Chapter Six: Descent

I don’t know why I went back. Maybe I needed to prove to myself it wasn’t real. Maybe the house was already working on me. I walked the hall again, passing those eyeless portraits. I opened the door.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of sulfur. The walls were blackened. The slab was real.

There was something in the corner. It didn’t move. It didn’t need to. Its eyes burned like coals. I couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

Then it whispered:

“You came... as an offering.”

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### Chapter Seven: Escape

I ran. I don’t remember much. I know I reached the car just before dawn. My suitcase was still inside. I drove until my gas tank was nearly empty.

When I returned the key to Elias, he didn’t say a word. Just looked at me with that same grim face.

“You stayed in the south wing.”

I nodded.

He sighed. “No one stays the same after.”

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### Chapter Eight: The Voice

I’m home now. I keep the lights on at night. I don’t sleep well. I’ve burned sage, called priests, even moved apartments. But it doesn’t matter.

It’s still with me.

In the silence, I hear it breathing.

In the dark, I see its eyes.

And every night, without fail, I hear the same whisper:

“He will take what is his.”

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### Epilogue: Journal of Elias Thorne

March 3, 1979: The south wing has been sealed again. The ritual failed. One was taken.

May 12, 1987: Another traveler came. Stayed in the main wing. Heard footsteps. Left in the morning.

July 4, 2003: Young couple broke the chain. Both taken. No bodies found.

November 1, 2022: He returns more often now. The hunger grows.

February 15, 2025: He was offered again.

And the door never stays closed.

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The Offering Room always waits.