Chapter 3: The House at the edge of Town (3)

Mark’s car cut through the night like it didn’t belong there.

The headlights carved two narrow tunnels through the darkness, rigid cones of light that revealed only what absolutely had to be seen.

Broken asphalt appeared and disappeared in flashes, cracks and patches rushing toward the hood before slipping away again. The pale stripe down the center of the highway surfaced briefly in the glow, then slid beneath the car and vanished as if it had never existed at all.

Beyond the reach of the beams, everything dissolved into shadow. Trees pressed close on either side, their shapes reduced to fleeting impressions, more suggestion than substance.

The occasional reflective road sign flared suddenly into brightness, its message legible for only a second before being swallowed by the dark once more.

The road felt endless in this way, revealed only in fragments, offering no sense of what lay ahead, only the assurance that the car was moving forward, and that the darkness would close in again as soon as the light passed.

Everything beyond that was swallowed whole.

Trees stood back from the road like an audience that refused to clap, their branches unmoving, black against a sky with no visible stars.

Inside the car, the air felt thick. Not hot, not cold, just heavy, as though it resisted being breathed.

Evan sat in the passenger seat, hunched forward slightly, hands clasped together so tightly his knuckles had gone pale.

The dashboard clock glowed an accusing red: 2:03 a.m.

He refused to look at it for too long. He had learned what happened when he paid too much attention to time.

The radio was off. Mark hadn’t consciously turned it off, it had just… stopped playing somewhere along the road.

He hadn’t noticed until several miles later, when the silence grew loud enough to feel intentional.

In the back seat, Lena lounged comfortably, one leg crossed over the other, her face lit by the pale blue glow of her phone. Her thumbs moved quickly, scrolling, typing, deleting.

She hummed softly to herself, tuneless but content, as if they were on a casual night drive rather than heading toward something Evan had spent three nights desperately trying to survive.

Mark’s grip on the steering wheel tightened.

‘This is stupid,’ he thought.

He’d grown up practical.

Logical.

The kind of guy who rolled his eyes at ghost stories and found comfort in explanations that could be diagrammed and fixed with tools.

Even now, part of his brain kept trying to supply answers, old wiring, raccoons in the walls, stress-induced hallucinations.

Things that made sense.

But the farther they drove, the quieter that part became.

The road narrowed.

The asphalt cracked, then gave way entirely to gravel, the tires crunching loudly beneath them. The sound seemed to echo too much, as though the night itself were listening.

Mark swallowed. His mouth was dry.

Beside him, Evan stared straight ahead, unblinking. The headlights reflected faintly in his eyes, making them look glassy, almost feverish.

‘He looks worse than he did at the diner,’ Mark realized.

The shadows under Evan’s eyes seemed deeper now, his skin drawn tight over his cheekbones.

There was a tension in him that hadn’t been there before, like a wire pulled too tight and threatening to snap.

“You okay?” Mark asked quietly.

Evan nodded, too quickly.

“Yeah. Just… almost there.”

The gravel road twisted through a stretch of land that felt wrong in its emptiness. No neighboring houses. No distant porch lights.

No fences or mailboxes. The trees grew thicker here, pressing closer to the road, their trunks pale and scarred, their branches arching overhead like ribs.

Mark felt a sudden, irrational urge to turn around.

In the back seat, Lena let out a small, delighted laugh.

“Wow. This is perfect.”

Mark glanced at her in the rearview mirror.

Her eyes were bright, cheeks flushed, not with fear, but excitement.

“Perfect for what?” he asked.

She didn’t look up from her phone.

“Atmosphere.”

The gravel driveway appeared suddenly, branching off the road like a scar. Mark slowed, heart pounding, and turned onto it.

The headlights swept over uneven ground, weeds growing tall and unchecked, scraping softly against the undercarriage of the car.

The house emerged gradually, reluctantly, as though it hadn’t wanted to be seen.

It was bigger than Mark had expected.

Two stories, broad and squat, its shape wrong in subtle ways, angles just slightly off, windows unevenly spaced. The paint had peeled away in long strips, exposing gray wood beneath that looked swollen and damp even in the dry night air.

No lights burned inside.

The house sat alone in a wide clearing, the surrounding trees pushed back just far enough to give it space, like they were giving it room to breathe.

Or watching.

Mark pulled the car to a stop. The engine idled for a moment, then he turned the key. The sudden silence was oppressive.

No insects chirped. No wind stirred the leaves.

Evan’s heart hammered painfully in his chest. The moment the engine died, the feeling hit him, sharp and familiar. A pressure behind his eyes. A faint ringing in his ears. The same sensation he felt every night when he crossed the threshold of that house.

‘It knows I’m here,’ he thought.

His gut twisted violently.

He had hoped, stupidly, that seeing the place from the outside, with other people, might make it look normal. Harmless. Just an old house.

It didn’t.

The foundation seemed to sink into the earth rather than rise from it, stones darkened with moisture that looked like it hadn’t fully dried in years. The ground around it felt compacted, pressed down as though the weight of the structure had slowly forced the land to give way. Nothing about it suggested stability, only endurance.

The porch sagged slightly in the middle, boards bowed and uneven beneath a thin layer of grime. It looked as though something heavy had stood there for a long time, long enough to leave an impression, and then refused to leave even after it was gone. The steps creaked faintly at the slightest touch of wind, the sound carrying too far in the quiet.

The front door loomed beneath a small overhang that offered little real shelter. Its wood was scarred and cracked, grain split by age and neglect. The handle was dull, worn smooth by countless hands, or perhaps by something that had gripped it far more often than it should have.

The windows reflected nothing.

Mark opened his door and stepped out, gravel crunching loudly beneath his boots. The sound echoed, then died too quickly, swallowed by the clearing. A chill crawled up his spine.

Nope, his instincts screamed. Nope, nope, nope.

He hadn’t believed Evan, not fully.

Not until now.

Evan climbed out more slowly, legs stiff, like he’d been sitting too long in one position. The moment his feet touched the ground, his knees almost buckled. He steadied himself against the car, breathing shallowly.

Lena hopped out last, stretching her arms over her head like she’d just arrived at a campsite.

“Oh yeah,” she said brightly. “That’s the stuff.”

Mark stared at her. “You’re… excited?”

She rubbed her arms, goosebumps rising along her skin. “Can you feel that? It’s like static. Gives me chills.” She grinned. “I love it.”

Evan’s stomach churned. “That’s not, Lena, that’s not a good thing.”

She turned to him, head tilted, studying his face with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. “For you, maybe not.”

She walked a few steps closer to the house, boots crunching softly. The closer she got, the more Evan’s headache intensified, a dull ache blossoming behind his temples.

Mark noticed his reaction. “Hey. You don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” he said quickly.

“We can-”

“I want to explore,” Lena said.

The words landed like a stone dropped into still water.

“Explore?”

Mark echoed.

“Yeah,” she said casually. “Inside. Upstairs. Basement, if you have one.” She smiled back at them. “I think I should do it alone.”

Evan felt cold spread through his limbs. “Alone?”

She nodded. “You two wait out here. See what happens. That’s usually when things are most… honest.”

Mark shook his head. “That’s not happening. Absolutely not.”

Lena laughed softly, but there was an edge to it now. “Why not? Aren’t you curious?”

“I’m not letting you walk into that thing by yourself,” Mark said. His voice surprised him with its firmness. “You don’t even know what’s-”