The Blackwood's

The Blackwood's 1 Nelson sat on a worn bench in the middle of an empty park, a cigarette in hand. Smoke curled lazily into the air as his face hardened, a mix of sorrow and anger etched into his features. He had lost someone very special—his brother. The pain was still raw, and his mind raced as he thought about the man he believed could give him answers: Ethan Blackwood. Ethan was the brother of Mr. Kingston Blackwood, whose death, along with his wife’s, had left behind a trail of questions and a house cloaked in mystery. Nelson had considered going directly to Ethan’s house, but that lead was already a dead end. Months ago, Ethan’s home had been consumed by flames in what many suspected was an intentional act. While no definitive cause had been determined, whispers of foul play surrounded the incident. But Nelson wasn’t focused on the burnt house. He needed another way to find Ethan—a way to get to the truth about his brother’s murder. As he racked his brain for answers, an idea struck him: Kingston Blackwood’s house. Kingston and his wife had been murdered nine months earlier in what the public assumed was a brutal home invasion. Their daughter, wracked with grief, was said to have taken her own life shortly after. But the story never sat right with Nelson. Rumors swirled in the neighborhood—some claimed the daughter’s death wasn’t a suicide, that there was more to the story. And then there was the house itself. Over the months, neighbors had reported strange happenings there. At night, muffled voices and the hum of a television could be heard coming from within, even though the house had been abandoned. Those who dared to enter often left injured or deeply shaken. Some even ended up in psychiatric hospitals, tormented by trauma they couldn’t explain. No one had died in the house, but there was something undeniably sinister about it. Strangely, it was always immaculate—spotless, as though someone still lived there. Witnesses had claimed they were greeted by a man’s voice yelling at them for not knocking. Others heard the clatter of kitchen utensils, as though someone were cooking. The stories should have been enough to deter anyone, but not Nelson. He was desperate. Haunted or not, the mansion was his best chance at finding Ethan. He had no other leads. He snuffed out his cigarette and stood, determination outweighing his fear. Whatever waited for him inside Kingston Blackwood’s house couldn’t be worse than the emptiness of not knowing the truth. --- The silence in the mansion was deafening. Nelson realized, far too late, that entering this place had been a grave mistake. The mansion felt like another world, detached from the outside. No sounds from the environment were reflected inside—not the chirping of birds, not the rustling of leaves. Before Nelson could shake the feeling of dread and retreat, the door creaked behind him, as if nudged by a soft breeze. He turned, but his worst fear was confirmed: the door was locked. He was trapped. Panic began to creep into his mind, but Nelson knew he had only one option—to be brave. "Show yourself!" Nelson shouted, trying to sound bold. "Ghosts and the living can be friends! We could make history together." His words betrayed bravery, but his bladder had already betrayed him, releasing liters of urine in terror. Then, out of the shadows, she appeared. A tattered-looking figure, a woman whose voice was haunting yet oddly soft, echoed in the silent mansion. "You want to play the superhero, don't you?" she asked, her tone a mix of curiosity and disdain. "You had the courage to enter this haunted, lonely house." Nelson almost screamed, but something about her tone kept him grounded. Her voice sounded non-threatening, but it carried an undertone of menace. Suddenly, a deeper, more menacing voice rumbled through the room. “Did you reveal yourself to him?” The figure of a man emerged, his aura oppressive and his face twisted with anger. “The rules of this house are simple! The living are to be hunted—injured, broken, and driven insane. Why are you speaking to him?” The girl turned to her father, her voice rising. “I didn’t reveal myself to him! He can see me… because we share the same emotions.” She turned back to Nelson, her eyes narrowing. “You and I… and my father. We’re the same. We’re bound by revenge.” Her father’s expression darkened further. “Revenge is meaningless if it’s wasted on weakness. No one leaves this house alive unless they avenge us. The destroyer of this family must pay!” Nelson’s heart sank. The pressure was mounting, but he hid his intentions. He had no plans to avenge anyone but his own brother. But now, he had no choice but to cooperate—at least on the surface. As if sensing his thoughts, the girl stepped closer to him, her voice low. “Be careful,” she warned. “My father is always watching. He’ll know if you try to betray us. He’ll know if you fail. And believe me, you don’t want him as your enemy.” Her words sent a chill down Nelson’s spine. He swallowed hard, forcing a calmness into his voice. “I’ll do it. I’ll bring Ethan to you.” But deep down, Nelson knew he was playing a dangerous game. The girl’s warning wasn’t idle. Her father’s gaze bore into him, a constant reminder that failure or deceit would cost him everything