Chapter 1: The Lure of Black Hollow
The town of Havenwood was the kind of place that prided itself on being aggressively normal. It was a postcard-perfect snapshot of small-town Canada, with its neatly trimmed lawns, a single main street where everyone knew your business, and a fierce high school football rivalry that was the highlight of the year. But beneath the placid surface, a current of unease trickled from the dark edge of the woods that bordered the town. Black Hollow. Locals spoke of it in hushed tones — a place of grim history and worse omens. For most of Havenwood’s residents, it was a line you simply didn’t cross.
For Raven and her friends, it was a finish line they were dying to reach.
The unofficial headquarters of their group was the basement of Raven’s house, a dimly lit sanctuary they called “The Crypt.” The walls were a collage of horror movie posters, from grainy black-and-white classics to graphic, modern slashers. A collection of mismatched couches and beanbags formed a semicircle around a large, beat-up coffee table, which was currently buried under a mountain of comic books, empty soda cans, and Jasper’s half-eaten bag of sour gummies.
Raven stood before them, a general addressing her troops. She was the epicenter of their chaotic energy, a gravitational force that pulled them all into her orbit. Dressed in her signature all-black ensemble—a worn leather jacket over a band t-shirt, ripped jeans, and scuffed combat boots—she held up her phone, its screen casting a pale, ghostly light on her face. Her dark hair was pulled back, showing off the silver skull earrings that dangled from her lobes.
“Okay, listen up, ghouls,” she announced, her voice ringing with the confidence that made you want to follow her into a burning building, or in this case, a haunted forest. “You are not going to believe this.”
From his perch on the arm of the floral-patterned sofa, Finn let out a long, theatrical sigh. “Let me guess. Bigfoot was spotted ordering a latte at the corner coffee shop?” He ran a hand through his perpetually messy brown hair and adjusted his flannel shirt. A smirk was his default expression, a permanent fixture on his face.
“Better,” Raven said, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Someone found it. The ruins of Hollow’s End.”
The name hung in the air, instantly changing the mood in the room. Willow, who had been quietly sketching in a large, leather-bound journal, looked up, her wide eyes magnified by her vintage glasses. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her oversized cardigan swallowing her slight frame. “For real? I thought that was just a story.”
“It is a story,” Finn muttered, taking a sip of his soda. “A campfire tale to scare kids.”
“Is it, though?” Luna’s dreamy voice cut through his skepticism. She sat cross-legged on a velvet pillow on the floor, a tarot deck fanned out in front of her. Clad in a flowing skirt and a chunky knit sweater, she looked like she had just stepped out of a fairytale. A silver crescent moon necklace rested against her collarbone. “Some places hold energy. Echoes of what happened there. Black Hollow… it has a very old, very heavy energy.”
“Heavy with what? Mosquitoes?” Finn shot back, earning a chuckle from Jasper.
Jasper was sprawled on a giant beanbag chair, a graphic tee featuring a comically gruesome zombie devouring a rainbow stretched across his chest. He was the group’s jester, armed with an endless supply of terrible jokes and a backpack that was a veritable convenience store of snacks. “Yeah, I heard the trees are so old they have back problems,” he quipped, popping a green gummy worm into his mouth.
“Shut up and look,” Raven said, tossing her phone to Willow. “Some hiker from two towns over posted these last night. He said he got lost and stumbled upon them.”
Willow carefully took the phone, her brow furrowed in concentration. The rest of the group crowded around her, even Finn leaning in with a flicker of reluctant interest. Blurry photos, taken in the low light of dusk. The first showed a crumbling stone wall, almost completely swallowed by moss and ivy. The second photo was of what looked like the dark, circular mouth of an old well, its stone rim cracked and broken.
“This could be anywhere,” Finn said, already backing away. “It’s just some old rocks.”
“But what if it’s not?” Willow whispered, her voice barely audible. Her fingers traced the image on the screen. “The legends all say the village of Hollow’s End was abandoned overnight. The structures were just… left to rot. This matches the description I’ve read.” Willow was their resident historian, a walking encyclopedia of folklore and all things that go bump in the night. She devoured books on local legends and ghost stories the way Jasper devoured candy, and her knowledge was both impressive and unsettling.
“Exactly!” Raven exclaimed, reclaiming her phone. “This is it. The real deal. We have to go.”
The suggestion landed with a heavy weight in the room. For years, they had been obsessed with the stories of Black Hollow. They had spent countless nights in The Crypt, poring over old maps, reading firsthand accounts from the town archives that Willow had managed to unearth, and watching every terrible documentary made about the forest. The legend was their shared mythology: the story of a forgotten village, a harsh winter, and a forest that took its revenge when the villagers stopped their offerings, and cut down its sacred trees. They knew the tales of the Wailing Oak, where the village elder had been found hanging, its branches forever weeping blood-red sap. They whispered about the ghostly Hollow Children, who lured travelers to their doom, and the unnatural, whispering mist that rolled in without warning. And they especially loved the story of the Shadow Man, the tall, faceless entity said to stalk the woods, a vengeful spirit guarding its territory.
The stories were a game, a thrilling intellectual exercise. But going in? That was different. That was crossing a line.
“Oh, no way,” Jasper said, sitting up straight. The humor had vanished from his face, replaced by genuine alarm. “No. No, thank you. I’ve seen this movie. The funny guy dies first. Or second, after the daredevil gets it.” He pointed an accusing finger at Ash.
Ash, who had been silently cleaning a pocketknife with a rag in the corner, looked up and grinned. His mischievous smile was a flash of white in the dim light. Ash was the group’s adrenaline junkie, a fearless force of nature who lived for the thrill. With a distressed leather jacket, fingerless gloves, and a gaze that always seemed to size up the next risk, Ash thrived on chaos. “What’s the worst that could happen?” He asked, the exact words Jasper had predicted. The blade of the knife caught the light as he flicked it shut with a satisfying click. “Sounds like fun. I dare you to go.”
“Don’t you dare ‘dare’ me,” Jasper shot back. “That’s how people end up getting sacrificed to some ancient tree monster.”
“It’s not a monster, it’s a sentient entity,” Luna corrected gently. “The forest was protecting itself. The villagers broke their promise.” She began gathering her tarot cards, her movements slow and deliberate. “But I agree with Raven. We should see it. I want to feel the energy of the Wailing Oak for myself.”
“You want to feel the energy of a tree that supposedly bleeds and screams?” Finn asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why not just stick your finger in a light socket? Same result, less hiking.”
“It’s not about logic, Finn,” Luna said, her calm eyes meeting his. “It’s about being open to things you can’t explain.”
“I’m open to the explanation that it’s all a pile of compost,” he retorted.
Raven stepped into the middle of the argument, holding her hands up for peace. “Okay, okay. Think about it. We’ve been talking about this place for years. The history of Black Hollow is more familiar to us than to anyone here. We are uniquely qualified to do this.”
“Qualified for what? To become the next chapter in the ghost story?” Willow countered, her voice trembling slightly. Despite her fascination with the lore, she was also the most easily frightened. Her imagination, which could so vividly reconstruct the past, was a double-edged sword, equally adept at conjuring up terrifying futures. “People go into those woods and don’t come back.”
“Because they’re idiots,” Ash chimed in, standing up and stretching. “They go in without a plan. We’re different. We’ll be prepared.”
“Prepared with what? Tarot cards and snacks?” Finn asked, gesturing from Luna to Jasper.
“I’m bringing a compass and a map,” Finn said, almost to himself, as if the logical part of his brain was already formulating a plan against his will. He hated being left out more than he hated the supernatural, and he knew it. “And a first-aid kit. And bear spray.”
“For the Shadow Man?” Jasper squeaked.
“For bears, genius,” Finn sighed. “They actually exist.”
Raven saw her opening. “So you’ll go?”
Finn crossed his arms, trying to maintain his skeptical facade, but his resolve was crumbling. “Only to prove to all of you that you’re chasing a fairy tale. When we get there and find nothing but a pile of old firewood, you all owe me twenty bucks.”
“Deal,” Ash said instantly.
Raven turned her attention to the two remaining holdouts. “Willow? Think of the history. You could be the first person to document the ruins of Hollow’s End properly. Your journal would be legendary.”
Willow chewed on her lower lip. The idea was undeniably tempting. To see the place she had only read about, to walk among the remnants of a lost village… it was a historian’s dream. But the fear was an icy knot in her stomach. She pictured the Hollow Children with their black eyes, their eerie laughter echoing through the trees. She imagined the creeping mist and the disorienting, endless paths.
“And Jasper,” Raven continued, her tone softening. “We need you. Who else is going to crack a joke when Ash tries to poke a ghost with a stick?” She knew his weak spot was his fear of being left behind.
“Plus, I’ll buy all the snacks,” Ash added with a grin. “Anything you want. A whole backpack just for you.”
Jasper’s eyes lit up. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
He thought for a moment, weighing the promise of unlimited junk food against the certainty of a horrifying death. The scales tipped, as they always did, toward his stomach. “Fine,” he groaned, slumping back into the beanbag. “But if I see a single ghostly child, I am using you as a human shield, Ash.”
Ash just laughed. “You’d have to catch me first.”
Willow was the last one. All eyes turned to her. She looked from Raven’s determined face to Luna’s encouraging smile, to Ash’s daredevil glint and Finn’s resigned expression. They were a strange, mismatched constellation of personalities, but they were her constellation. She couldn’t imagine them going without her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of not knowing what they found.
“Okay,” she breathed, her voice shaky but firm. “I’m in. But we have to be careful. Seriously. We stick together, and if anyone wants to leave, we all leave. No questions asked.”
“Scout’s honor,” Raven said, raising two fingers.
The pact was sealed. A nervous, electric energy filled The Crypt. They were really doing it. The legend they had obsessed over from the safety of the basement was about to become their reality.
“So when do we go?” Ash asked, already bouncing on the balls of his feet.
Raven smiled, a slow, deliberate curve of her lips. “I was thinking of the autumn equinox. This Friday.”
Luna’s eyes widened. “Raven, the equinox is when the veil between our world and the spirit world is at its thinnest. The energy will be… amplified.”
“Exactly,” Raven said. “If we’re going to find ghosts, let’s give ourselves the best possible chance.”
A shiver went through the room, a collective thrill of fear and anticipation. This was no longer just an adventure. It was a pilgrimage into the heart of their own private horror story.
***
The days leading up to the equinox passed in a blur of preparation and nervous excitement. Havenwood went about its business, oblivious to the secret mission being plotted in Raven’s basement. The trees at the town’s edge began to blush with the first hints of autumn, their leaves turning from green to gold and fiery red. The air grew crisper, carrying the scent of wood smoke and decaying leaves, a constant reminder of their impending journey into Black Hollow.
Finn, true to his word, had assembled a survival kit that could have sustained them for a week in the wilderness. He had a military-grade compass, laminated topographical maps of the area, a powerful flashlight with extra batteries, a fully stocked first-aid kit, and two cans of bear spray. He presented it all with a deadpan expression, as if he were preparing for a school project instead of a ghost hunt.
Luna’s preparations were of a different nature. She spent her time meditating and cleansing her spiritual tools. She packed a small satin bag containing a bundle of white sage, several protective crystals—black tourmaline for grounding, amethyst for intuition—and, of course, her tarot deck. “Just in case we need guidance from the other side,” she explained to a bewildered Finn.
Willow was a whirlwind of research. She practically moved into the town library, returning to The Crypt each night with stacks of dusty books and photocopied newspaper articles. She had created a detailed timeline of the disappearances at Hollow’s End and had cross-referenced old land surveys with Finn’s modern maps, trying to pinpoint the most likely location of the ruins. Her journal was rapidly filling with notes, sketches of the Wailing Oak based on historical descriptions, and lists of unanswered questions.
Ash spent his time sharpening his knives and practicing climbing the old oak tree in Raven’s backyard, much to her parents’ dismay. He viewed the trip as a physical challenge, a test of their own limits. He packed a coil of rope, a multi-tool, and a handful of glow sticks. “For marking the trail,” he claimed, though everyone knew it was more likely they’d be used to stage a prank.
Jasper’s contribution was, as promised, a backpack filled to bursting with food. He had every type of chip imaginable, a family-sized bag of gummy bears, several packs of chocolate bars, and a few thermoses of hot chocolate. “Emotional support snacks,” he called them. “Essential for surviving spectral encounters.” He had also, half-jokingly, brought a small, battery-powered fog machine. “For ambiance,” he’d said with a wink.
Raven orchestrated it all; her leadership and enthusiasm never wavering. She coordinated their supplies, kept everyone focused, and spent her evenings rereading her favorite horror novels, getting into the right headspace. For her, this was the ultimate expression of their friendship and their shared passion. It was their own story, and she was determined to be the hero who led them through the darkness and back out again.
Finally, Friday arrived. The sky was a brilliant, cloudless blue, but a sharp wind hinted at the approaching night. They met at the edge of town as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, distorted shadows across the street. The entrance to Black Hollow was not dramatic; it was a simple break in the trees, a dirt path that was quickly being reclaimed by nature. But it felt like a doorway to another world. The air near the forest edge was colder, and the cheerful sounds of the town—a distant lawnmower, the laughter of children playing—seemed to die right at the treeline.
They stood there for a moment, a line of six teenagers silhouetted against the dying light.
“Everyone ready?” Raven asked, pulling the straps of her backpack tighter.
Jasper took a deep, shaky breath and adjusted his glasses. “I was born ready. And terrified. I’m terrif-ready.”
Willow clutched her journal to her chest like a shield. “Stick together. No matter what.”
“Let’s get this over with,” Finn grumbled, clicking on his flashlight, even though the sun hadn’t fully set.
“The spirits are waiting,” Luna whispered, a small, serene smile on her face.
Ash just grinned. “Last one to the Wailing Oak is a rotten egg.”
With that, they took their first steps onto the path. As the last of the six crossed the threshold from Havenwood into Black Hollow, the sun seemed to drop below the horizon with an unnatural speed. The temperature plummeted. A low, thin layer of mist, like a ghostly exhalation from the earth itself, began to curl around their ankles. The path ahead was already darker, the trees on either side forming a dense, suffocating canopy that blocked out the remaining twilight. The normal sounds of a forest at dusk were absent. The chirping of crickets, the rustle of small animals, nowhere to be found. Instead, an eerie, profound silence had fallen, broken only by the crunch of their own footsteps on the path.
The adventure had begun. And the forest was watching.
The Legend Of Black Hollow. © 2025 | Horrified Candles. All Rights Reserved.
