THE CURSE OF THE BLACK MOON
Chapter 1: The Arrival
The town of Black Hollow lay nestled between steep, jagged mountains, its weathered buildings standing like sentinels against the encroaching darkness. Manuel stepped out of his car, the crisp autumn air filling his lungs, mingled with the scent of pine and damp earth. As he adjusted the collar of his jacket against the chill, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching him.
He’d come to Black Hollow to escape the bustle of the city, drawn by its rich history and the tantalizing whispers of local lore. The townsfolk spoke in hushed tones about the beast that roamed the forests, a creature said to be the manifestation of an ancient curse. Skeptical yet intrigued, he resolved to dig deeper into these tales of horror.
The town square was eerily quiet, the cobblestone streets echoing his footsteps. An old tavern stood at the corner, its sign swinging gently in the breeze—The Howling Wolf. A flickering lantern cast an inviting glow, and the promise of warmth and company coaxed him inside.
As he entered, a wave of warmth enveloped him, the rich scent of roasted meat and the sound of laughter filling the air. A few patrons sat at the bar, their faces lined with stories, eyes glancing toward the newcomer with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Manuel approached the counter, where an older man with a grizzled beard polished a set of tarnished mugs.
“Welcome, stranger,” the bartender said, his voice gravelly. “What brings you to Black Hollow?”
“I’m here to explore the town’s history,” Manuel replied, taking a seat. “I’ve heard some fascinating stories about the werewolf.”
The laughter around him faded, replaced by a thick silence. The bartender’s eyes narrowed, and he leaned closer, lowering his voice. “Best be careful with those stories. Not everyone here is keen to revisit the past.”
Manuel felt a chill run down his spine, but his curiosity only deepened. “Why’s that? What happened?”
The bartender glanced over his shoulder, ensuring no one was eavesdropping, then leaned in further. “Years ago, a man went missing. His name was Elias. He was the last to see the creature before it was unleashed. Some say he became the beast himself.”
“Is that why the townsfolk are so superstitious?” Manuel asked, intrigued.
“Superstitious? More like terrified,” the bartender replied, straightening up. “Every full moon, strange things happen in these woods. Livestock vanishes, and the howl of a wolf echoes through the night. You’d do well to keep your distance from the forest, boy.”
As the night wore on, Manuel listened to the townsfolk recount tales of fear and dread, their faces etched with concern. But beneath their warnings lay an undeniable thrill—an allure to the darkness lurking just beyond the town's edge. The moon hung high in the sky, casting an eerie glow, and he felt an unshakeable pull toward the woods.
Determined to uncover the truth, he left the tavern, the cool air biting at his skin. As he approached the tree line, shadows danced between the trunks, and the distant howl of a wolf echoed, sending a shiver through him. But he pressed on, drawn deeper into the mystery of Black Hollow, unaware of the horrors that awaited him.
