chapter four
1266 Words
The town of Sterling Hollow was the kind of place that only existed in snow globes—quaint brick shops, glowing lamplights, and window displays framed in garland and frost. The smell of roasted chestnuts lingered in the air, and Christmas music floated from speakers hidden under the eaves of old buildings. It should have been charming.
But Annie felt eyes on her the moment she stepped out of the car.
She pulled her scarf tighter and walked toward the small gift shop on Main Street. Sweet Briar Gifts sat between a bakery and an antique bookstore. As she pushed open the door, a small bell jingled overhead.
A woman in her late fifties looked up from the counter, smiling warmly—until she noticed Annie.
Her smile faltered. “You’re staying at Winterbourne, aren’t you?”
Annie blinked. “I—yes. Just for the month. You know it?”
The woman’s fingers twitched against the counter. “Everyone around here knows Winterbourne. Especially in December.”
Annie tried to keep her voice light. “It’s not that bad. Big, quiet. A bit creaky.”
The woman’s mouth pressed into a thin line. “It’s not the house that’s the problem. It’s who walks in it.”
Annie forced a polite smile and turned to browse. The shelves were lined with candles, ornaments, and locally made goods. She found a hand-carved wooden train for her nephew, a wool scarf for her sister, and a set of beeswax candles her mother would love. Still, she felt the woman’s eyes on her the whole time.
At the bakery next door, a young man with flour on his apron handed her a cinnamon bun and asked, “You’re the one up at Winterbourne?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
He glanced toward the window, then lowered his voice. “If you hear someone calling your name in the halls… don’t answer.”
Annie’s stomach dipped. “That’s comforting.”
He didn’t laugh. “Just don’t answer.”
Even at the bookstore, a teenage girl with dyed purple hair looked up from behind a romance novel and said, “They say he follows women. Lonely ones. He watches from the mirrors.”
Annie exhaled sharply. “Okay, wow. Is this town-wide hazing or just my welcome package?”
The girl didn’t reply. She just stared.
By the time Annie made her final stop at the post office, she had stopped asking questions and started walking faster. Everyone had something to say. A warning. A rumor. A whisper.
And every word seemed to echo the same truth: You’re not alone in that house.
The sky had gone from steel gray to a bruised navy by the time she pulled up to Winterbourne. Snow flurried against the windshield, and the wind had picked up, moaning low through the bare trees. The estate loomed above her, dark windows glowing faintly from the lights she’d left on.
Still, as she stepped out of the car, arms loaded with paper bags, Annie felt something unfamiliar.
It wasn’t just the cold.
It was the emptiness.
Winterbourne was always quiet, but tonight, it felt abandoned. Vacant. Like something had been pulled out of it. Even the flickering candles in the windows seemed dimmer.
“Leo?” she called softly as she stepped into the main hall.
Nothing.
No voice. No shadow. No shimmer.
She shook her head, trying to clear the chill crawling up her spine. “Maybe he’s resting in his… haunting schedule.”
She put the gifts in the sitting room and wandered into the kitchen. The quiet pressed around her like a blanket. Even the radiator wasn’t groaning tonight.
She made dinner slowly—spaghetti again, this time with a side of roasted broccoli. The mundane routine helped calm her nerves. The smell of garlic filled the kitchen, grounding her in something real. Something warm.
Still no sign of Leo.
She set her dishes in the sink and moved upstairs, arms folded against the persistent chill.
In her bedroom, she changed into soft flannel pants and a hoodie, then curled up on the large bed with her laptop. She tried to focus on emails, follow-ups, and staging notes, but her mind kept drifting.
To the looks people had given her in town.
To the warnings.
To Leo's eyes.
To the fact that he wasn’t here now.
She set the laptop aside and glanced toward the mirror across the room.
It reflected the firelight and her own figure.
But for just a moment… she thought she saw a second silhouette behind her.
When she turned, the room was empty.
The shadows flickered. The wind howled through the chimney.
Annie lay back against the pillows and whispered to the ceiling, “If you’re watching… say something.”
Silence.
But the fire seemed to burn just a little brighter.
Annie sat up slowly, her dark eyes scanning the room. The fire crackled softly, its warm glow casting long, flickering shadows across the walls. She could still feel the lingering sensation on her skin, like the whisper of a touch that wasn’t quite there. Her spine tingled, but not in the way it had before. This was different, more deliberate,
She swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet brushing the wooden floor. The coolness grounded her, pulling her back into reality. Her pulse quickened as she stood, her gaze darting toward the fireplace. The flames seemed to dance, their movements almost intentional, as if they were trying to tell her something.
The air in the room shifted, growing colder for a moment, and Annie’s breath hitched. She wrapped her arms around herself, her fingers gripping the fabric of her sweater.
“If you’re here,” she whispered, “show yourself.”
The fire flared suddenly, its light intensifying, and Annie took a step back, her heart racing. She could feel it now, a presence behind her, close but not too close. Or maybe that was just her mind trying to make sense of something she couldn’t fully understand.
She turned slowly, her breath shallow, and stared into the empty space where she thought they might be.
The air around her seemed to stir, and she felt it again, that same cool touch, but this time it wasn’t on her spine. It brushed against her cheek, so lightly that she might have mistaken it for a stray breeze. But there were no open windows. No drafts.
Annie closed her eyes, her lips parting slightly as she tried to steady her breathing. Her skin tingled where they touched her, and she couldn’t deny the way it made her feel. It was strange, terrifying even, but also… thrilling.
“What do you want?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was no answer, at least not in words. Instead, she felt another touch, this time on her shoulder, sliding down her arm until it reached her wrist. It lingered there, circling her pulse point as if they could feel her heartbeat.
Her own breath caught in her throat, and she opened her eyes, staring down at her wrist even though she couldn’t see anything.
“You can feel me,” she murmured, more to herself than to him. “Can’t you?”
The touch disappeared for a moment, and Annie felt a pang of disappointment. Annie stood there for what felt like forever, her heart racing, her mind spinning in circles. She didn’t know what to think, what to feel. All she knew was that whatever was happening… it wasn’t over.
Not yet.
- Writer
