CHAPTER 2
2111 Words
CHAPTER TWO
THE HOUSE REMEMBERS
Mara drove for nearly an hour before she realized she was crying.
She didn't know when the tears had started.
She only knew that the road ahead had become a blur, the windshield wipers were moving back and forth, and the image of the face in her rearview mirror refused to leave her mind.
Her mother's face.
Those black eyes.
That impossible smile.
Mara glanced at the mirror again.
The back seat was empty.
She looked again.
Still empty.
"You're imagining things," she whispered.
Her voice sounded weak inside the car.
She turned on the radio.
Static.
She changed the station.
More static.
Another station.
Nothing.
Then a voice suddenly came through.
"Mara."
She slammed the radio off.
Her hands tightened around the steering wheel.
The car continued through the rain.
She wanted to call her grandmother.
She reached for her phone.
No signal.
"Of course."
She threw the phone onto the passenger seat.
The rain became heavier.
Lightning flashed across the sky.
For a moment, Mara thought she saw something standing beside the road.
A woman.
Long dark hair.
White dress.
Bare feet.
Mara hit the brakes.
The car stopped violently.
She stared through the windshield.
Nothing.
Only trees.
She waited.
Nothing moved.
Mara slowly released the brake.
"Get yourself together."
She drove on.
But the words didn't comfort her.
Because deep down, she knew she hadn't imagined everything.
The letter was real.
The photograph was real.
The boy named Luca was real.
And if Luca was real, then there was something else she needed to understand.
Why didn't she remember him?
By the time Mara reached town, darkness had fallen.
She stopped at a small motel near the highway.
The sign above the entrance flickered.
ROSEWOOD MOTEL
She parked and walked inside.
An elderly woman sat behind the reception desk reading a newspaper.
She looked up.
"Room?"
"Yes."
"One night?"
Mara hesitated.
"I don't know."
The woman studied her.
"Long trip?"
"Something like that."
The receptionist pushed a registration book toward her.
"Name?"
"Mara Vale."
The woman's hand stopped.
Mara noticed.
"You know me?"
The woman looked uncomfortable.
"No."
"You reacted to my name."
"I didn't."
"You did."
The receptionist closed the book.
"Room seven."
Mara stared at her.
"Seven?"
"Is there a problem?"
"No."
The woman handed her a key.
"Don't lose it."
Mara took it.
The key was old.
A small brass tag hung from it.
7
She looked down the hallway.
The lights flickered.
"Where's room seven?"
"Last door."
Mara walked away.
The hallway smelled of old carpet and damp wood.
She reached the last door.
Room Seven.
She inserted the key.
The door opened.
The room was small.
One bed.
One table.
One window.
A faded painting hung above the bed.
Mara stepped inside.
Something felt familiar.
She couldn't explain why.
She closed the door and locked it.
Then she checked the bathroom.
Empty.
Closet.
Empty.
Under the bed.
Nothing.
She returned to the room.
Her phone had regained signal.
She called her grandmother.
No answer.
She tried again.
Still nothing.
Mara sat on the edge of the bed.
Her thoughts returned to Blackwood.
Luca.
The photograph.
The woman in the window.
She searched online for the Vale family.
There were old newspaper articles.
Most mentioned Elena Vale.
She opened one.
LOCAL WOMAN MISSING AFTER BLACKWOOD HOUSE INCIDENT.
Mara's heart began pounding.
She read quickly.
The article said Elena had disappeared during a storm thirteen years ago.
Police had searched the property for three days.
No body was found.
No evidence of an accident was discovered.
The investigation eventually went cold.
Mara stared at the screen.
Her grandmother had lied.
Her mother had not been confirmed dead.
She had simply disappeared.
Mara opened another article.
This one was older.
BLACKWOOD FAMILY HISTORY REVEALS UNEXPLAINED DISAPPEARANCES.
Her blood ran cold.
She kept reading.
Several members of the Vale family had reportedly disappeared over generations.
Most were never found.
There was a pattern.
Each disappearance occurred after the person returned to Blackwood Manor.
Mara stopped scrolling.
A sentence near the bottom caught her attention.
According to local records, the family believed the house was connected to a phenomenon known as "the twelve knocks."
Mara stared.
She searched the phrase.
Nothing useful appeared.
Then her phone screen went black.
She frowned.
The battery had been at sixty percent.
She pressed the power button.
Nothing.
"Seriously?"
She placed the phone on the table.
Then she heard it.
A knock.
Mara froze.
The sound had come from the door.
She looked at the key in the lock.
The door was still secured.
Another knock.
Her breathing became shallow.
She didn't move.
A third knock.
Three.
Mara stood slowly.
"Who's there?"
Silence.
She immediately regretted speaking.
The room became colder.
A voice came from the hallway.
"Mara."
Her mother's voice.
Mara stepped backward.
"No."
"Mara, open the door."
She covered her ears.
"You're not real."
The voice became softer.
"I'm cold."
Mara's eyes filled with tears.
Her mother used to say that when Mara was little.
Whenever she wanted Mara to come inside from the garden, she would pretend to be cold.
It was a harmless memory.
But now it sounded terrifying.
Mara whispered:
"You're dead."
Silence.
Then the voice answered:
"Am I?"
Mara's stomach dropped.
She moved away from the door.
The handle slowly turned.
Mara grabbed the chair beside the table and placed it against the door.
The handle stopped.
Then something scratched the other side.
Slowly.
Three long scratches.
Mara backed toward the window.
The curtains moved.
The window was closed.
She stared at it.
Something was standing behind the curtain.
Mara's heart pounded.
She grabbed the curtain.
Pulled it aside.
Nobody.
Only darkness outside.
She exhaled.
Then she saw the reflection in the glass.
A boy stood behind her.
Mara spun around.
The room was empty.
She turned back to the window.
The boy was still in the reflection.
Six years old.
Pale face.
Dark hair.
Luca.
He lifted one finger to his lips.
Then pointed toward the door.
Mara turned.
Nothing.
She looked at the window again.
Luca was gone.
A whisper came from beneath the bed.
"Don't let them see you."
Mara stumbled backward.
The voice was Luca's.
She looked beneath the bed.
Nothing.
"Luca?"
No answer.
She crouched.
Still nothing.
Then something touched her ankle.
Mara screamed and jumped backward.
Her back hit the wall.
A small handprint appeared in the dust beneath the bed.
Mara stared at it.
Then the door began shaking.
Someone was pushing from the other side.
Mara ran toward the bathroom.
The door slammed open.
She grabbed the phone.
It suddenly powered on.
She called emergency services.
The call wouldn't connect.
The bedroom door shook harder.
"Mara."
Her mother's voice.
"Please."
Mara pressed herself against the bathroom wall.
The shaking stopped.
Silence.
She waited.
One minute.
Two.
Nothing.
Then a soft knock came from the bathroom door.
Mara looked up.
Her eyes widened.
The bathroom door was already open.
She slowly turned toward the mirror.
Written across the glass in wet fingerprints were four words:
YOU FORGOT THE BOY.
Mara's breathing stopped.
She wiped the mirror.
The words disappeared.
Then another sentence appeared.
ASK YOUR GRANDMOTHER.
Mara immediately called her again.
This time, she answered.
"Mara?"
"Grandma!"
"What happened?"
"Who is Luca?"
Silence.
Mara could hear her grandmother breathing.
"Where did you hear that name?"
"Blackwood."
Her grandmother gasped.
"You went there."
"Yes."
"I told you not to."
"Who is Luca?"
"Mara, listen to me."
"No! You lied about Mom. You lied about Blackwood. Now tell me who Luca is."
Her grandmother began crying.
Mara had never heard her cry like that.
"He was your brother."
Mara stopped breathing.
"What?"
"Your younger brother."
"I don't have a brother."
"You did."
Mara sat on the bathroom floor.
Her grandmother continued.
"His name was Luca. He was six years old."
"Why don't I remember him?"
"Because your mother made sure you wouldn't."
"Why?"
"Because he was the first."
"The first what?"
Her grandmother's voice dropped.
"The first child the house took."
Mara couldn't speak.
"Grandma, what does that mean?"
"Get out of that motel."
"Why?"
"Because it's not safe."
"Where should I go?"
"Anywhere except Blackwood."
The call ended.
Mara stared at the phone.
Then the lights went out.
She heard footsteps.
From inside the room.
Mara slowly stepped out of the bathroom.
Darkness surrounded her.
She couldn't see anything.
Then a child's voice whispered:
"She's coming."
Mara froze.
"Who?"
The answer came from behind her.
"Your mother."
Mara turned.
A figure stood beside the bed.
She couldn't see its face.
Only the outline.
Tall.
Still.
Mara backed toward the door.
The figure took one step forward.
Mara grabbed the door handle.
Locked.
She pulled harder.
Nothing.
The figure took another step.
Mara screamed.
Then the lights came back on.
The room was empty.
Mara stood frozen.
She looked at the bed.
A photograph lay on the pillow.
She picked it up.
It was a family photograph.
Her mother.
Her grandmother.
Mara.
Luca.
But there was something different.
The picture had been taken inside Blackwood Manor.
Everyone was smiling.
Except Elena.
Her mother was staring directly at something behind the camera.
Mara turned the photograph over.
A message had been written there.
WE DIDN'T LOSE LUCA.
Below it:
WE GAVE HIM TO THE HOUSE.
Mara dropped the photograph.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered.
No voice.
Only knocking.
One.
Two.
Three.
Then four.
Mara's face went pale.
The knocking continued.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
She backed toward the window.
Nine.
Ten.
Eleven.
The knocking stopped.
Mara held her breath.
Then came the twelfth knock.
The entire room shook.
The mirror shattered.
The lights exploded.
And from somewhere beneath the floor came a voice.
Her mother's voice.
"Mara..."
She fell to her knees.
"Please..."
The voice whispered:
"You were never supposed to remember."
Mara looked at the floor.
A crack had appeared beneath the bed.
Cold air came through it.
Then something moved underneath.
Mara crawled backward.
The crack widened.
A child's hand slowly emerged.
Mara screamed.
The hand remained there.
Small.
Pale.
Motionless.
Then the child's voice whispered:
"Now you remember."
Mara stared at the hand.
And suddenly, the memories came flooding back.
A little boy laughing in the garden.
A summer afternoon.
Her mother screaming.
Her grandmother crying.
A locked door.
A storm.
Three knocks.
And Luca standing at the entrance to Blackwood Manor.
Holding Mara's hand.
Her mother pulling Mara away.
Luca crying.
Then Elena whispering:
"Don't look back."
Mara remembered looking back anyway.
She remembered Luca smiling.
And behind him stood the tall faceless figure.
Mara screamed.
The memory vanished.
She looked down.
The hand beneath the bed was gone.
The crack had disappeared.
But on the floor was a single muddy footprint.
Small.
Child-sized.
Leading toward the door.
Mara followed it with her eyes.
Another footprint appeared.
Then another.
They led across the room.
Toward the hallway.
Mara stood slowly.
The door opened by itself.
Beyond it was darkness.
A child's voice whispered:
"Come find me."
Mara knew she should run.
Instead, she stepped into the hallway.
Because for the first time in thirteen years, she remembered her brother.
And if Luca was still somewhere inside Blackwood Manor, Mara knew one thing.
She had to find him.
Even if the dead were waiting.
Even if her mother had lied.
Even if the house wanted her back.
Mara grabbed her bag.
She left the motel.
Outside, the rain had stopped.
Across the highway, the forest stood beneath the moonlight.
And somewhere beyond those trees was Blackwood Manor.
Waiting.
Watching.
Remembering.
Mara started her car.
Before she drove away, she looked into the rearview mirror.
For a moment, she saw Luca sitting in the back seat.
He smiled.
Then he whispered:
"Don't bring Grandma."
Mara turned around.
The seat was empty.
But on the leather was a fresh handprint.
A child's handprint.
Mara stared at it.
Then her phone buzzed.
A message had arrived.
From her grandmother.
Only four words:
SHE IS NOT YOUR MOTHER.
Mara's blood ran cold.
She looked toward Blackwood Manor.
The house was barely visible through the trees.
One window suddenly lit up.
Then another.
Then another.
Until every window in the abandoned house was glowing.
And standing behind each one was a figure.
Waiting.
Mara whispered:
"What did you wake up?"
From somewhere inside the forest came three knocks.
Then three more.
Then three more.
The house had begun counting again.
And Mara understood something terrifying.
The twelve knocks were not a warning.
They were a countdown.
And the first chapter of her nightmare had only just begun
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