Chapter One — The Dare
My name is Daniel Mercer, and I was twelve years old when we found the house.
There were four of us: me, Tyler, Marcus and Jamie.
We had been friends since elementary school, and by the summer we were twelve, we thought we were practically adults.
That was probably our first mistake.
The house stood at the top of Blackwood Hill, about a kilometre beyond the edge of town. Nobody lived there. Nobody had lived there for as long as anyone could remember.
It was enormous.
Three storeys of dark wooden siding, a steep roof, broken windows and a stone chimney that leaned slightly to one side. Ivy covered much of the back wall, and the front porch sagged beneath the weight of years.
People called it the Blackwood House.
According to Tyler, it had been built sometime in the 1800s.
According to Marcus, it had been built in 1712 by a man who disappeared after murdering his entire family.
According to Jamie, who believed almost anything he saw on the internet, the house had been built by a witch.
I didn't believe any of them.
"Bet you won't go inside," Tyler said.
We were standing at the bottom of the hill.
"Why wouldn't I?"
"Because you're scared."
"I'm not."
Tyler grinned.
"Then prove it."
The front door was already hanging open.
That should have been our second warning.
We climbed the hill.
The closer we got, the colder it became.
There was no wind, but the trees around the house moved gently, their branches scraping against one another.
Jamie stopped.
"Guys."
"What?"
"Look at the windows."
We looked.
Every window on the second floor was dark.
Except one.
A pale yellow light glowed behind the curtains.
Marcus swallowed.
"There's no electricity in that place."
Tyler laughed nervously.
"Probably moonlight."
"It isn't night," I said.
He didn't answer.
We reached the porch.
The boards creaked beneath our shoes.
Then something happened that none of us could explain.
The front door slowly opened wider.
Not because of the wind.
There wasn't any wind.
It opened by itself.
We stood there silently.
Then Tyler whispered:
"Well?"
I stepped inside.
The others followed.
The smell hit us immediately.
Dust.
Old wood.
And something else.
Something that reminded me of wet earth.
The entrance hall was enormous. An ancient staircase rose toward the second floor. Portraits covered the walls, their faces faded almost beyond recognition.
Jamie pointed toward one.
"Look."
The portrait showed four boys standing together.
They looked about our age.
And they looked frightened.
"That's creepy," Marcus said.
I walked closer.
At the bottom of the painting was a date.
October 14, 1891.
Underneath it were four names.
I read them aloud.
"Daniel. Tyler. Marcus. Jamie."
Nobody laughed.
Nobody moved.
Because the names were exactly ours.
Then, from somewhere upstairs, we heard a child's voice.
It whispered:
"You're late."
The front door slammed shut behind us.
And the four of us screamed.
Chapter Two — The Fourth Floor
Tyler grabbed the doorknob.
It wouldn't move.
"Come on!"
He pulled harder.
Nothing.
Marcus tried.
Then Jamie.
The door didn't even shake.
"Okay," Tyler whispered. "Very funny."
"Nobody's laughing," I said.
The house had become completely silent.
We could hear our breathing.
Then came a sound from upstairs.
Footsteps.
Slow footsteps.
One.
Two.
Three.
They stopped.
Then three more.
We looked at each other.
"Maybe there's someone living here," Jamie whispered.
"Then let's find them," Tyler said.
I stared at him.
"Are you serious?"
"No."
He pointed toward the staircase.
"I just don't want to admit I'm terrified."
We climbed.
The second floor contained a long hallway with doors on both sides.
Most were closed.
One stood slightly open.
Inside was a bedroom containing an enormous wooden bed.
Another contained shelves filled with dusty books.
At the end of the hallway was a staircase leading upward.
We climbed again.
The third floor was different.
There were no bedrooms.
Instead, the entire floor seemed to consist of one enormous attic.
Boxes covered the floor.
Old furniture sat beneath sheets.
A grandfather clock stood against one wall.
Its hands were frozen at 3:17.
Marcus brushed dust from a nearby table.
"There are names carved into this."
We looked.
Four names.
Daniel.
Tyler.
Marcus.
Jamie.
And underneath them was another sentence.
THE HOUSE REMEMBERS EVERYONE WHO ENTERS.
Jamie stepped away.
"Okay. I'm done."
He turned toward the staircase.
There wasn't one.
We stared at the empty wall.
The staircase we'd just climbed was gone.
"Where did it go?" Marcus whispered.
Tyler ran his hands across the wall.
"There's got to be another way down."
Then the grandfather clock began ticking.
Tick.
We froze.
Tick.
The hands moved.
3:18.
Tick.
3:19.
Then the clock struck.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Seventeen times.
The final chime was followed by a loud crack.
The clock's door opened.
Inside was not a pendulum.
It was a staircase.
A narrow staircase disappearing downward into darkness.
Nobody spoke.
Then we heard something coming up from below.
Footsteps.
Small footsteps.
A child was climbing toward us.
Tyler whispered:
"Run."
We couldn't.
Because a face appeared in the darkness.
It was mine.
But older.
Much older.
The man smiled at me.
And said:
"Don't worry, Daniel."
He looked at the other boys.
"You'll all make it home."
Then his smile disappeared.
"But you won't all be yourselves."
Chapter Three — The Room of Doors
We ran.
We didn't care where.
We charged through the attic until we reached a wooden door none of us had noticed before.
Tyler opened it.
We rushed through.
And stopped.
We were standing in a room containing dozens of doors.
There were doors on every wall.
Small doors.
Tall doors.
Wooden doors.
Metal doors.
Even a tiny red door no bigger than a cupboard.
Marcus whispered:
"Where are we?"
Jamie pointed.
"Look."
Written above the largest door were four words.
ONE DOOR FOR EACH OF YOU.
"No," I said.
A bell rang.
Every door opened simultaneously.
Behind each one was darkness.
Then voices began calling our names.
"Daniel..."
"Tyler..."
"Marcus..."
"Jamie..."
The voices sounded like our parents.
Jamie stepped toward one.
"Mom?"
I grabbed his arm.
"Don't!"
The voice changed.
It became an old man's voice.
Then a woman's.
Then a child's.
Then Jamie's own voice.
"Let me out."
Jamie went pale.
The door slammed shut.
Something struck it from the other side.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then silence.
The floor suddenly tilted.
We fell.
When I opened my eyes, I was alone.
The room had vanished.
I was standing in the hallway of the house.
Except everything looked new.
The walls weren't rotten.
The carpets were clean.
Paintings hung everywhere.
People were walking around.
Then I saw four boys.
They were standing near the staircase.
The same four boys from the painting.
I watched them enter the house.
I watched them discover the portrait.
I watched them climb the stairs.
Then one boy looked directly at me.
He pointed.
"Daniel!"
The other three turned.
They could see me.
The oldest-looking boy walked toward me.
"You're from the future."
"I don't understand."
He grabbed my shoulders.
"You have to listen."
"What happened to you?"
His face changed.
Fear spread across it.
"We opened the fourth door."
"What fourth door?"
He looked behind me.
I turned.
There was a door where the hallway wall had been.
It was painted black.
A brass number was attached to it.
4
The boy whispered:
"Never let the house know you remember this place."
The door opened.
Something stepped through.
I screamed.
And suddenly I was back with Tyler, Marcus and Jamie.
They were staring at me.
"Daniel!"
I looked around.
We were standing in the same room.
But there was something different.
The black door was now behind us.
And its brass number was gone.
Jamie looked terrified.
"Daniel..."
"What?"
He pointed toward the floor.
Four wet footprints led from the door.
They stopped directly behind me.
There was a fifth footprint.
But it was facing the wrong direction.
Toward us.
Chapter Four — The Boy in the Mirror
We found the staircase again.
This time it led downward.
We descended quickly.
The lower we went, the colder it became.
Eventually we reached a basement.
There were shelves filled with jars, old tools and boxes.
At the far end was a large mirror.
Marcus approached it.
"Guys..."
We joined him.
Our reflections stared back.
But mine wasn't moving.
I lifted my hand.
My reflection didn't.
Instead, it slowly raised one finger to its lips.
Then it pointed behind me.
I turned.
Nothing.
When I looked back, the reflection had changed.
There were five boys in the mirror.
We were standing together.
And behind us was another boy.
He was pale.
His clothes looked more than a hundred years old.
His face was covered in scratches.
He whispered:
"Don't let it choose."
The mirror cracked.
Jamie screamed.
A hand pushed through the glass.
We ran.
Behind us came the sound of hundreds of fingernails scraping against the floor.
We reached the basement stairs.
Tyler slammed the door.
Something hit the other side.
BOOM.
Marcus held the door shut.
"Daniel!"
"What?"
"What's it choosing?"
I didn't know.
Then I remembered the words from the black door.
You won't all be yourselves.
I looked at my friends.
Something was wrong.
Jamie was smiling.
Not a normal smile.
A huge, empty smile.
"Jamie?"
He looked at me.
"Yes?"
His voice wasn't his.
The basement door began shaking.
Tyler backed away.
Marcus grabbed my arm.
"That's not Jamie."
Jamie tilted his head.
Then he laughed.
And the house laughed with him.
Every wall.
Every floorboard.
Every window.
The entire house seemed to breathe.
Jamie looked at us.
"You're almost ready."
Then he pointed toward the stairs.
"Come upstairs."
And behind him, written across the basement wall in fresh red paint, were four words:
ONLY THREE WILL LEAVE.
Chapter Five — The Last Door
We ran.
Tyler and Marcus dragged Jamie between them.
He fought like he was much stronger than any twelve-year-old boy should have been.
"LET ME GO!"
His voice changed again.
This time it sounded like mine.
Then Tyler's.
Then Marcus's.
Finally, it became the voice of an old man.
"You're making this difficult."
We reached the front hall.
The front door was open.
Outside was daylight.
We could see the hill.
We could see the road.
We could see home.
We were almost free.
Then Marcus stopped.
"Wait."
"What?"
He pointed at the portraits.
There were now five.
The first showed four boys.
The second showed three.
The third showed two.
The fourth showed one.
And the final portrait was empty.
The house was waiting for someone.
Tyler grabbed my hand.
"Don't look at them. Just run."
We sprinted toward the door.
Jamie suddenly stopped.
His expression became normal.
His eyes filled with tears.
"Daniel."
I stopped.
He looked terrified.
"It's me."
I stepped toward him.
Tyler shouted, "Don't!"
Jamie whispered:
"It knows you now."
The house groaned.
The walls began cracking.
The ceiling shook.
Jamie pushed me toward the door.
"RUN!"
We did.
Tyler, Marcus and I escaped.
Jamie didn't.
The door slammed shut between us.
We screamed his name.
The house went silent.
We called the police.
They searched the property for hours.
There was no Jamie.
No basement.
No fourth floor.
No hidden rooms.
Nothing.
The police eventually told us that the house had been abandoned for nearly seventy years.
They asked where our fourth friend was.
None of us could answer.
Three days later, I returned to Blackwood Hill alone.
The house was gone.
Only the stone foundation remained.
But something had been placed on the front step.
A photograph.
It showed four boys standing in front of the house.
Tyler.
Marcus.
Me.
And Jamie.
On the back, someone had written:
YOU FORGOT ONE THING.
I turned the photograph over again.
There was another sentence underneath.
THE HOUSE DOESN'T KEEP PEOPLE.
I felt a cold breath against my ear.
Then I heard Jamie whisper:
"It keeps places."
I looked up.
Behind me stood the Blackwood House.
Perfectly restored.
Every window was lit.
And standing behind the glass were four boys.
Tyler.
Marcus.
Me.
And Jamie.
Except none of them were moving.
They were all staring at me.
Then the front door opened.
And my reflection stepped outside.
It smiled.
And waved.
I ran.
I never went back.
But sometimes, late at night, I hear four knocks on my bedroom window.
Three slow.
One fast.
And whenever I look outside, there is an old house standing across the street.
A house that doesn't belong there.
A house with four boys watching from the windows.
And one empty room waiting for me.
Because the Blackwood House didn't disappear.
It followed us home.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
