The night was unnaturally still as Margret and Daniel approached the
abandoned chapel on the outskirts of town. The looming trees cast long shadows
across the path, their branches twisting like skeletal hands. Both could feel
the weight of the Vanishing Hour drawing closer. It was inescapable—an
invisible force pressing down on their chests, squeezing the air from their
lungs.
"I don’t want to be here," Daniel muttered, his voice
trembling. "I don’t think we should do this."
Margret’s hand tightened around the flashlight, though her knuckles were
white with fear. "We need answers," she whispered, but the doubt in
her voice betrayed her own terror. She didn’t know if they were doing the right
thing—if this was even something they could face.
The chapel was a crumbling relic of the past, its roof sagging, its
windows shattered. The door stood ajar, creaking with the faint breeze, but
inside it was pitch black. No one had dared enter in years, and now, as Margret
and Daniel stood before it, they understood why.
"I feel like something’s watching us," Daniel said, his voice
barely audible. His eyes flicked nervously toward the darkened trees.
"Maybe we should turn back. Maybe—"
But before he could finish, a low, rasping whisper seemed to rise from
the shadows. "You’ve come too far."
Margret froze, her breath catching in her throat. The voice was neither
male nor female, just a sound—a sound filled with something ancient and
unspeakably dark. Her legs locked in place, every muscle in her body screaming
at her to run, but she couldn’t move. It was as though the very air had turned
to stone around them.
Daniel was shaking, his fear evident. "This… this is wrong,"
he stammered. "We shouldn’t have come."
"Shhh," Margret whispered, but she wasn’t comforting him. She
was trying to convince herself to stay quiet, to not provoke whatever it was
that lurked in the chapel’s shadows.
From the darkness inside, a shape began to form, barely visible at
first—just a flicker, a movement in the corner of their vision. But as it grew
closer, there was no mistaking it. It was the entity. Its form was taller than
any human, its body shifting and twisting like smoke, barely holding together.
Its face—or what passed for a face—was a hollow void, its eyes gleaming with a
sickening, inhuman light.
"You shouldn’t have come," it whispered again, the
words slithering into their minds rather than their ears. Margret stumbled
back, her heart pounding in her chest.
Daniel’s breathing quickened, panic flooding his senses. "It’s
going to kill us," he said, his voice breaking. "It’s going to take
us."
"We have to leave!" Margret gasped, pulling at Daniel’s arm,
trying to drag him back toward the path. But as they turned to flee, the ground
beneath them trembled. The very air seemed to pulse with the entity’s presence,
and the doorway they had entered through was now consumed by darkness. There
was no escape.
The entity’s form flickered closer, its elongated limbs moving with a
grotesque fluidity, bending and twisting as though it didn’t follow the rules
of the physical world. The temperature dropped drastically, their breath
forming in the icy air.
Daniel, his legs weak and his mind clouded by terror, collapsed to the
floor. His hands trembled as he tried to crawl backward, but he was frozen—his
body refused to listen. "It’s... inside my head," he whispered, eyes
wide with panic. "I can hear it… in my mind."
Margret crouched beside him, her own fear swelling to a point where she
could barely think. She could feel the entity’s presence pressing against her
thoughts, filling her with a cold, numbing dread. The flashlight flickered in
her shaking hand, casting erratic beams of light around the room.
There was no fight left in them. The idea of standing against this
thing—this ancient, unfathomable force—was absurd. They were nothing to it.
Just intruders in its domain.
"Fear makes you weak," the entity whispered, its
form towering above them. "You came looking for answers, but the only
truth is your fear."
Margret wanted to scream, to fight, to do anything, but she couldn’t.
She was paralyzed by the overwhelming terror that surged through her veins. It
was like the air itself had turned to ice inside her chest. Every second felt
like it stretched into eternity.
And then, the entity’s attention shifted.
Its eyes—those hollow, glowing orbs—fixed on Daniel. He let out a
whimper, unable to tear his gaze away from it. His body was stiff, locked in
place, but his eyes were wild with terror.
"No... no, don’t..." Daniel croaked, but the entity moved
closer, a shadowy limb extending toward him.
Margret tried to move, tried to pull Daniel away, but her body was
sluggish, her limbs heavy with fear. It was like the very air was fighting
against her, holding her back.
The entity’s shadow wrapped around Daniel, its form slipping through him
like smoke. For a brief moment, Daniel’s eyes widened in terror—and then, he
was still. Completely still.
Margret’s heart dropped. "Daniel?" she whispered, her voice
trembling.
He didn’t respond. His body was limp, his face expressionless, his eyes
vacant.
And then... he stood.
But it wasn’t Daniel.
Margret stumbled backward, her mind reeling in disbelief. The way he
moved—stiff, unnatural, like a puppet pulled by invisible strings. His eyes,
once filled with fear and life, were now cold, empty—just like the entity’s.
"Daniel..." Margret whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.
He turned toward her, his head tilting slightly, unnaturally, as if
testing out the movement. His lips curled into a grotesque, chilling smile that
wasn’t his own.
"Daniel’s not here anymore," the entity whispered
through him.
Margret took a step back, her legs shaking, but the chapel seemed to
close in around her. There was nowhere to go. She was alone now. Alone with the
thing that had taken Daniel from her.
And in that moment, as the Vanishing Hour crept ever closer, she
realized the horrifying truth:
They were never going to escape.