The Hollow Children

The small, sleepy town of Greywick had always been a quiet, unremarkable place. Nestled between dense forests and a meandering river, it was the kind of town where everyone knew each other and doors were rarely locked. But in the year 2000, a story began to circulate that turned Greywick into a place of whispered fears and shuttered windows at dusk.

It began with the arrival of the Hollow Children.

One autumn morning, as the leaves turned fiery red and orange, the town woke to find three children standing at the edge of the woods. They were pale, with skin so translucent it seemed as if their veins were drawn on with ink. Their eyes were what unsettled the townsfolk most—black as coal, devoid of whites, and unblinking. They said nothing, just stood there, their heads slightly tilted, watching anyone who passed by.

Sheriff Donovan was the first to approach them. The children were silent as he questioned them, their heads swivelling to follow his movements like owls. They had no identification, no signs of injury, and no apparent fear.

“Where are your parents?” Donovan asked.

The tallest child, a boy who couldn’t have been more than twelve, finally spoke. His voice was a raspy whisper that sent shivers down Donovan’s spine.

“They are coming.”

That was all he said.

The children were taken to the town’s only clinic for a check-up. Dr. Elsie Carter examined them but found nothing physically wrong. Yet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeply unnatural about them. When she tried to shine a light in their eyes, they hissed, their mouths stretching unnaturally wide, revealing teeth that were too sharp and too many.

Over the next few days, strange things began to happen in Greywick. Livestock were found mutilated in their pens, their eyes missing and their bodies arranged in eerie patterns. A thick, unnatural fog rolled in at night, swallowing the town and muffling all sound. People reported hearing whispers outside their windows—soft, childlike voices calling their names.

The children, meanwhile, remained silent. They stayed at the clinic, sitting perfectly still for hours on end, their black eyes watching everyone who came near. They didn’t eat, drink, or sleep, yet they seemed perfectly healthy.

One night, Dr. Carter woke to find the tallest child standing by her bed. His head was tilted, and his black eyes glimmered in the moonlight.

“They are here,” he whispered.

Before she could scream, he was gone.

The next morning, Sheriff Donovan found Dr. Carter in her office, staring blankly at the wall. Her hair had turned white overnight, and she wouldn’t speak. The children were gone.

Panic spread through the town. The fog grew thicker each night, and the whispers grew louder. Some claimed to see shadowy figures moving through the mist, always just out of reach. A few brave souls tried to leave Greywick, but they never made it past the woods. Their abandoned cars were found on the outskirts, the interiors smeared with something dark and foul.

Then, the children returned.

They appeared in the centre of town one evening, standing in a perfect line. Behind them, the fog swirled and twisted as if alive. The townsfolk gathered, drawn by a compulsion they couldn’t resist. Even those who wanted to stay inside found themselves stepping out into the cold, damp air.

The tallest child stepped forward.

“You ignored the signs,” he said, his voice echoing unnaturally. “You built your homes on our land. You cut down our trees. You poisoned our rivers. Now, the Hollow Ones will reclaim what is ours.”

The crowd gasped as the fog surged forward, enveloping the children. When it cleared, they were gone. But the town was no longer the same.

Greywick became a place of nightmares. The houses seemed to rot from within, walls growing damp and mouldy overnight. The river turned black, its waters thick and viscous. People began to vanish—first one by one, then entire families. Those who remained spoke of hearing laughter in the fog and seeing glimpses of the children’s black eyes watching them from the shadows.

One brave soul, a schoolteacher named Margaret, decided to investigate. She pored over old town records, searching for clues. What she found chilled her to the bone.

Centuries ago, long before Greywick was founded, the land had belonged to a tribe that worshipped beings they called the Hollow Ones. These entities were said to dwell in the spaces between worlds, feeding on fear and despair. The tribe performed rituals to keep the Hollow Ones at bay, but when settlers arrived, they destroyed the sacred sites and drove the tribe away.

Margaret realised the children were not children at all. They were vessels, conduits for the Hollow Ones to enter the world.

Determined to stop the horror, Margaret gathered a group of townsfolk. They armed themselves with whatever they could find and ventured into the woods, following the whispers. The forest seemed alive, branches clawing at them and roots tangling their feet. The deeper they went, the colder it became, until their breath hung in the air like smoke.

Finally, they came to a clearing. In the centre stood an ancient stone altar, covered in symbols that pulsed with a sickly green light. The children were there, standing in a circle around the altar. Their mouths moved silently, as if chanting, though no sound came out.

Margaret stepped forward, clutching a book of ancient rituals she had found in the library. She began to recite the words, her voice shaking but determined. The symbols on the altar flared brighter, and the children turned to her, their eyes blazing with unnatural light.

The tallest child raised a hand, and Margaret’s voice faltered as she felt an invisible force grip her throat. But the others pressed on, shouting the incantation. The fog thickened, swirling violently, and the children screamed—a high, piercing sound that seemed to tear through the very fabric of reality.

With a final, blinding flash of light, the children and the altar vanished. The fog lifted, and the forest fell silent.

The townsfolk who survived returned to Greywick, but the town was never the same. The river remained black, and the land refused to yield crops. Most people left, seeking new lives elsewhere. Those who stayed lived in constant fear, always glancing over their shoulders, listening for whispers in the dark.

As for Margaret, she disappeared shortly after the ritual. Some say she sacrificed herself to banish the Hollow Ones. Others believe she was taken by them as punishment.

The story of the Hollow Children became a cautionary tale, a warning to respect the land and the forces that dwell within it. But every now and then, on foggy nights, people claim to see three figures standing at the edge of the woods, their black eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Waiting.

Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model