Stories Story 1

The Vanishing Hour

Story Teller

Late one evening, in the small town of Darrow's Edge, the wind howled through the streets like a restless spirit. The clock tower, a relic of the past, ticked slowly as if time itself had become weary. In the heart of the town stood the old Silverwood Manor, abandoned for decades. The townspeople whispered about it, passing on eerie stories of the family who had once lived there—wealthy, but always shrouded in strange rumors.

Story Teller

Ellie, a reporter new to Darrow’s Edge, had heard the legends but found them hard to believe. She was determined to get to the bottom of it. As night fell, she ventured to Silverwood Manor, her flashlight flickering against the overgrown ivy that had long claimed the house. The front door creaked open on its own, as if it had been waiting for her.

Story Teller

Inside, the air was thick with dust, and the smell of old wood and decay filled her nostrils. She moved cautiously, her flashlight beam dancing across faded portraits of the Silverwood family—each face seemed to watch her as she passed. In the parlor, a grand piano stood untouched, its keys yellowed with age. The strangest part, however, was the clock on the mantle. It was still ticking.

Story Teller

Curious, Ellie approached and found it strange that the time was exactly 3:15 AM. She reached for the clock, but as her fingers brushed the glass, the entire room seemed to shift. The air grew colder, and the shadows deepened unnaturally. The clock's ticking grew louder, almost deafening.

Story Teller

Suddenly, the walls around her began to distort. The portraits on the walls flickered, changing from the smiling faces of the Silverwood family to blank, expressionless ones. Then, as the clock struck the hour, the entire room seemed to pause. For a moment, Ellie felt as if the world had frozen.

Story Teller

Then, she heard it—a soft, almost inaudible whisper. "Leave... before it's too late." Ellie spun around, her heart pounding in her chest, but the house was empty. No one was there. Her flashlight trembled in her hand as she backed away slowly. Something was wrong, terribly wrong.

Story Teller

Without thinking, she ran for the door. But as she reached for the handle, the clock struck again, and the door slammed shut with a deafening crash. Panic surged through her. She tried to open it, but the handle wouldn’t budge. Behind her, the room seemed to shift again, this time more violently. The air felt as if it was closing in on her.

Story Teller

Ellie turned, her pulse racing. The once empty parlor was now full of shadowy figures, their faces hidden in darkness. They were moving toward her.

Story Teller

In a frenzy, Ellie darted toward the piano, hoping to find something—anything—to help her escape. She pressed a key, and the room responded with a violent jolt. The ground beneath her feet trembled, and she heard the faint sound of footsteps from the far corner of the house. Someone, or something, was coming.

Story Teller

Ellie’s mind raced. Her flashlight fell from her hand, its beam catching the edge of a doorway hidden behind a velvet curtain. She didn’t hesitate. She dashed into the passage, her breath ragged, her skin prickling with fear. The passage twisted, leading her deeper into the house, to a door she had never seen before. It creaked open, and she stepped inside.

Story Teller

To her shock, the room was not abandoned. It was perfectly preserved—furniture dusted, the curtains drawn, a single lamp casting a warm glow over the room. In the center stood a large, ornate mirror. The reflection it showed, however, was not Ellie.

Story Teller

It was the face of a woman, pale and gaunt, her eyes wide with terror. As Ellie stared, transfixed, the woman’s lips parted. A whisper barely audible in the stillness: “Leave now… or never leave at all.”

Story Teller

Before Ellie could react, the reflection grinned, and the room began to darken. Then, the clock struck again. And Ellie was gone.