I didn’t sleep the night after I fled Ashbrook. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw their faces again—my parents’ faces—locked in that monstrous grin, their eyes reflecting something vast and endless. I stayed awake until dawn, but even then, the house didn’t feel safe.By the second night, the dreams returned. At first, it was the old streets, quiet and grey. Then the sound began—the hum, low and unrelenting, vibrating in my chest even though I was asleep. In the dream, I walked toward the town square, and every step brought me closer to that circle of faces. They whispered in unison, over and over, “You came back. You came back. You came back.”
When I woke, my phone was buzzing. A message had been sent to me—no number, just Unknown:
“We are waiting.”
I dropped the phone, heart hammering, but it buzzed again. Another message.
“You belong here.”
I tried to tell myself it was some cruel prank, but deep down, I knew the truth. Ashbrook wasn’t done with me.
By the third day, the pull became unbearable. Every sound—the wind in the trees, the hum of the fridge—morphed into that same vibration I remembered from childhood. My chest ached with it. I thought if I ignored it, it might fade. But the harder I tried to push Ashbrook from my mind, the louder it became.
That night, I noticed something outside my window. At first, I thought it was the shadow of a tree. But then it moved. A figure, tall and thin, standing motionless beneath the streetlamp.
I pulled back the curtain, but when I blinked, it was gone.
My phone buzzed again. Same unknown number.
“Stop running. Come home.”
I should have smashed the phone right there. Instead, I stared at the glowing screen until my reflection blurred into the words.
And then I whispered aloud, though I didn’t mean to:
“I’ll return.”
The hum stopped instantly. The silence that followed was worse. It felt like the entire world was holding its breath, waiting for me to keep my promise.
Source: Some or all of the content was generated using an AI language model
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