Lucas Wells

Lucas found himself in a dimly lit room that could be mistaken for a doctor's clinic, if not for the foreboding atmosphere. Polished wooden furniture absorbed the scant light, casting deep shadows that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight. The air was heavy, suffused with the musty scent of old leather and parchment.

His head throbbed, pressed against the cold, dark desk. The high-pitched ringing in his ears hinted at his consciousness, but it felt distant and surreal. Gradually, his eyes adjusted to the gloom, and the haunting image of a gray-bearded man in a waistcoat emerged, reclining in a chair, eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling. The man's gaping mouth, pallid complexion, and rigid limbs bespoke a horrifying reality: he was a recently deceased body, still bearing the macabre freshness of the departed.

A whisper escaped Lucas's lips, the word "where" swallowed by the oppressive darkness. Panic rose in his chest as he pieced together his fragmented memories, but the details remained elusive. The silence was broken only by the mocking hiss of the candle's flame, taunting him with its secrets. Lucas's heart raced, his instincts screaming at him to flee. He lifted himself up from the chair and ran to the door and, with trembling hands, he grasped the doorknob, but hesitated, suddenly aware of a gaping void in his memories. He could only vaguely recall leaving his parents' home to study in the city. Glancing at the mirror, he gasped. Time had etched lines into his face, his once-youthful countenance now haggard and pale, framed by disheveled hair.

Despite his mounting terror, Lucas knew he must escape the confines of the university. He slipped away into the half-moon night, the chill wind whispering through the empty campus road, amplifying his sense of isolation. As he approached the entrance gate, a flood of memories washed over him, and he murmured a bittersweet oath.

"To a new life, a better future..." His voice faded into the abyss, weighed down by the burden of his guilt.

Under the light posts of the city streets, carriages rattled by, stirring a tempest of unease within Lucas. Though he longed for solace, the lifeless eyes of the gray-bearded man haunted his thoughts. As the carriages came and went, Lucas resolved to return to his hometown. He searched his pocket to see if he had anything useful and to his luck, he found a wallet and a key. He didn't know what the key was for so he put it back where he found it.

He flagged down a passing carriage. "Where to, sir?" The coachman eyed him warily.

"Echo Hollow, my hometown," Lucas replied, his voice barely a whisper.

"At this hour?" The coachman's skepticism lingered until he caught sight of Lucas's wallet.

"Yes," Lucas said, proffering the money. "I'll pay extra for the inconvenience."

The coachman's greed overcame his suspicions, and he nodded. "Very well, sir. We'll make the journey."

The carriage rumbled away from Albrighton's city limits, while Lucas struggled to dismiss the sensation of being observed. Sounds of creaking wheels and equine snorts intensified in the enveloping darkness, with each second stretching into an eon. He teetered on the edge of uncertainty, gripped by unspeakable fears that threatened to engulf him.

As the coach progressed at a consistent speed, the urban landscape receded into the distance, eventually vanishing from sight.

With every mile separating Lucas from the metropolis, the vast expanse afforded him ample opportunity for introspection. His thoughts whirled like a tempest, desperately seeking explanations for the baffling occurrences he'd encountered, yet uncovering none.

His future lay shrouded in uncertainty.

Would he find refuge in Echo Hollow, resigning himself to a life of solitude? Or would he eventually brave a return to the city, attempting to mend the shattered fragments of his past?

"Lucas..." A voice whispered from the abyss, unnervingly close to his ear. Startled, he spun around, only to be met by empty air. The phantom voice clung to him, chilling and impossible to ignore. In that instant, a long-buried memory flickered to life. He saw a well-dressed man, a comforting presence, soothing a paranoid and trembling patient. The man's calming words echoed through time, resonating within Lucas's very soul.

"Ground yourself; focus on the physical sensations, like your breathing or the fabric of your clothes against your skin..."

Weighed down by the heavy burden of uncertainty, Lucas clung to the advice. He concentrated on the present moment, allowing the sensation of the wind weaving through his fingers and caressing his palm to tether him to reality. Taking a few deep, steadying breaths, he found solace in the stillness, as the shadows of fear slowly receded.

"How are you feeling?" The coachman inquired gently, oblivious to the unnerving incident that had just transpired. "You've been rather quiet, and if I may say, you don't look well."

"I'm fine," Lucas assured, straightening his back. "It's just been a long day. How much further to Echo Hollow?"

"I'd say we have about four more hours at most," the coachman replied.

As the landscape transformed into a dense forest, shadows played tricks on Lucas's eyes, making him feel uneasy.

To distract himself, Lucas ventured a question. "Why did you decide to accept my request?"

"Truth be told, I needed the money." The coachman paused for a moment, signaling Lucas not to dig deeper. "What about you? Why were you willing to spend so much?"

Lucas considered his answer before responding. "I received a letter informing me that my brother wanted to see me," he lied.

"I see," the coachman said, a hint of relief in his voice. "For a moment, I thought you might be fleeing from a crime."

Lucas couldn't help but chuckle at the suggestion. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

As they continued along the narrow path, a sudden gust of wind rustled the branches above, sending a shiver down Lucas's spine. The air grew colder, and an unsettling feeling settled over him like a heavy blanket.

Suddenly, the horse halted, its hooves skidding against the dirt road. Its ears twitched nervously, and it refused to budge despite the coachman's attempts to coax it onward. The atmosphere grew thick with tension as the forest around it fell silent, as if the very air itself was holding its breath, anticipating the unknown danger that lurked within the shadows.

The coachman, seemingly oblivious on why the heightened tension and the distress of the horse. "I'm sorry for this inconvenience," he said with genuine concern. He then dismounted from the driver's seat to investigate the sudden restlessness of the horse.

As he approached the agitated animal, its breaths came in short, visible puffs in the cool air. Its eyes were wide with fear, reflecting the dimming light that filtered through the trees above. Just as the coachman reached out to calm the horse, a sudden, mysterious noise echoed through the woods, startling it. In a frenzy, it bolted, the force of its movement causing the coachman to lose his footing and tumble to the ground.

The carriage, still hitched to the frantic horse, was yanked forward with alarming speed, dragging Lucas deeper into the foreboding woods. The wheels of the carriage bounced and jolted over the uneven forest floor, as branches clawed at the sides of the vehicle, casting eerie shadows across Lucas's face. Panic surged through him as he clung to the edge of his seat, helpless against the wild, unpredictable ride.

The wheel shattered with a deafening crack, and eventually the part of the carriage that connected to the horse strained until it, too, gave way. The sudden release catapulted Lucas through the air, as if in slow motion, before he tumbled roughly across the ground and down a steep hill. As he lay there, disoriented and gasping for breath, Lucas assessed his injuries. Miraculously, he had escaped with nothing more than a few bruises and scratches. However, as he tried to regain his bearings, he realized he was lost under the half-moon night sky, with darkness pressing in on all sides.

Driven by determination, Lucas drew a shuddering breath, striving to steady his quivering nerves. Every rustle and snap of twigs beneath his feet heightened his awareness, yet he refused to submit to fear. Desperation guided his eyes as he searched for any sign of escape or sanctuary. That's when he stumbled upon the peculiar-looking statue, its gnarled finger pointing ominously to the left. As the sinister statue loomed before him, its twisted, alien visage seemed to come alive under the ghostly pallor of the moonlight. Its eyes shimmered with otherworldly energy, while the intricate carvings adorning its skin appeared to pulsate and squirm.