The First Horror
572 Words
Chapter 3
Ethan stood frozen, staring at the blank sheet of paper.
The words had disappeared again.
His apartment was silent except for the steady tapping of rain against the window.
He looked around.
Nothing.
"No..." he whispered to himself. "I'm just exhausted."
His phone rang again.
This time it was his best friend, Daniel.
"Ethan!" Daniel shouted before he could say hello. "Have you checked your email?"
"I just got a call from a publisher."
"I know! It's all over social media. People are talking about your novel everywhere. You're trending!"
Ethan frowned.
"That's impossible."
"It's not. Turn on the TV."
With shaky hands, Ethan picked up the remote.
Every entertainment channel carried the same headline.
NEW HORROR AUTHOR TAKES THE COUNTRY BY STORM.
His novel, Shadows of Midnight, had become an overnight sensation.
Interviews were already being scheduled.
Bookstores had sold out within hours.
The publisher announced a second printing before the first had even reached every store.
Ethan couldn't believe it.
"This... this can't be real."
Over the next few days, everything changed.
Money poured into his account.
Fans lined up outside bookstores hoping to meet him.
Journalists called him "the future of horror."
For the first time in years, Ethan felt like his dream had finally come true.
But deep down, something didn't feel right.
Every night, he found the Magic Pen lying on his desk, even after locking it away.
He tried putting it in a drawer.
The next morning, it was back on the desk.
He locked it inside a cupboard.
Hours later, it was resting beside his notebook.
It was as though the Pen wanted to be used.
One evening, Ethan sat down to write a new chapter.
He stared at the blank page for several minutes before smiling to himself.
"It's just a pen," he muttered.
He dipped it into the ink.
This time, he decided to have fun.
He wrote about a fictional man walking home through an empty alley after midnight.
In the story, the man heard footsteps behind him.
When he turned around, no one was there.
Then a shadow reached out from the wall...
The next morning, Ethan barely remembered writing it.
Until the news came on.
"A man was found dead in an alley early this morning," the reporter said. "Police say there were no signs of a struggle, and no witnesses. The victim appeared to have collapsed after suffering extreme shock."
The location caught Ethan's attention.
It was the exact street he had described.
His stomach tightened.
"No..."
He grabbed his notebook and read what he had written the night before.
Every detail matched.
The alley.
The weather.
The time.
Even the position of the body.
His hands began to shake.
"There has to be another explanation."
Just then, someone knocked on his apartment door.
Three slow knocks.
When he opened it, no one was there.
Only a folded piece of paper lay on the floor.
He picked it up.
Written in neat black ink were six words.
That was only the beginning, Ethan.
A cold breeze swept through the hallway.
He looked up.
At the far end of the corridor stood a tall figure dressed in black.
Its face was hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
Before Ethan could call out, the lights flickered.
When they came back on, the hallway was empty.
But the smell of fresh ink still lingered in the air.
End of Chapter 3
- Writer
