Books by Sarnia: The Journalist by LitBits™ for Tale Teller Club Publishing Horror Collection

The Journalist by LitBits™ for Tale Teller Club Publishing Horror Collection

The Journalist by LitBits™

In the small, isolated village of Dreadsham Hollow, nestled deep within the shadows of ancient, towering trees, a chilling tale unfolded. The townsfolk spoke in hushed whispers about the mysterious disappearance of anyone who ventured into the forbidden woods after nightfall. Legends told of an otherworldly presence, a malevolent force that lurked in the darkness, waiting for unsuspecting souls to cross its path.

A young woman, a journalist named Emma, drawn to the allure of the unknown and under instructions from the newspaper to dig up something interesting, arrived in Dreadsham Hollow to investigate the eerie happenings. Armed with a sense of curiosity and a determination to uncover the truth, she delved into the town's haunted history. It was a strange place that lacked young women. The inhabitants seemed set in their ways and overly suspicious of Emma's questions.

You don't wanna be going into them there woods late at night,' said the shopkeeper. 'Many a young girl be lost in them woods.'

Emma dismissed the warnings and was somewhat thrilled by them.

'I will get to the bottom of it,' she answered cheerily as she left the store.

'You'll be sorry for meddlin' where you don't belong Missy,' shouted the shopkeeper.

Emma scoffed at such superstitions, dismissing them as the product of overactive imaginations.

As night fell, a dense fog enshrouded Dreadsham Hollow, transforming the once-familiar surroundings into a disorientating labyrinth. Undeterred, Emma ventured into the forbidden woods, guided only by the pale glow of her flashlight. The batteries were on their way out, twisted branches clawed at her from the shadows, whispering unsettling secrets that sent shivers down her spine. An icy wind hit her face and she drew a sharp breath.

The air grew thick with an unnatural silence, broken only by the distant echoes of her footsteps snapping foliage underfoot. Suddenly, the temperature plummeted, and the forest seemed to come alive with a sinister energy. Emma held her breath as she felt an unseen presence closing in around her.

A soft, haunting melody drifted through the air. Was it real? Emma stumbled upon an ancient graveyard, the tombstones weathered and cracked. The melody intensified, echoing between the gnarled trees. An owl hooted a warning and Emma froze. Mesmerized and unable to turn back, she followed the eerie tune until she reached a dilapidated mansion, long forgotten by time.

The front door creaked open with a slow spine-chilling moan as if welcoming her to its long-lost secrets. The melody, now an unsettled with discordant harmonies, guided Emma through the decaying halls. Flickering candlelight revealed ghostly apparitions of the mansion's former inhabitants, trapped in a choreography that echoed their tragic past. Shadows seemed to depict violent deaths and suffering and the desperate wails sang with an anguished choir. Still, the song drew the journalist in on her quest for discovery.

As Emma reached the heart of the mansion, the haunting melody reached a crescendo. A figure materialized before her – a spectral presence clad in tattered, blood-stained garments. Hollow eyes met hers, and a ghostly hand extended toward her, beckoning her to join the eternal waltz. As Emma touched his hand, there was a flash of the man once there, dashing, cavalier, handsome. He drew her in for a caress and a kiss like no other. Soft lips caressed her soul and in that moment she felt so in love. Her heart was alive with a sexual energy she had never experienced before. What was this madness, was it lust? It felt like more. Like an unrivalled passion that drew her to the man's cosmic eyes, black eyes filled with stars. Warmth enveloped her breasts and tugged at her heart.

In a panic, and briefly coming to her senses, Emma tried to escape the grip of the dashing suitor as the mansion's walls seemed to close in around her. The haunting melody echoed in her mind, an orchestra played reaching a musical crescendo nearly driving her to the brink of madness. Whispers of long-forgotten tragedies, of lovers spawned and duels at dawn, filled the air as the overpowering force tightened its grip on her soul. It was too late. Emma was his and was lost in a stranger's ghostly power.

The townsfolk awoke the next morning to an eerie stillness in Dreadsham Hollow. Now engulfed in an otherworldly mist, the forbidden woods held the secrets of Emma's disappearance. Legends of the haunted mansion and the ghostly waltz persisted, a warning to all who dared to unravel the mysteries that lurked in the shadows of Ravenswood. Emma was never seen again.

The Journalist by LitBits