The town of Hollowbrook was quiet, so quiet that the wind seemed to hold its breath. Nestled between two jagged hills, it had been abandoned for decades, left to the mercy of time and the whispers of those who once called it home. No one knew exactly when the last resident had left, but the silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. It was a summer evening when a young woman named Elara found herself wandering the empty streets. She had come to Hollowbrook by accident, following a strange dream she couldn’t explain. In her dream, she had seen a child playing in the ruins of an old house, laughing as if the world around them didn’t exist. When she woke, the image remained clear in her mind, and something inside her told her to go there. The house stood at the edge of town, half-buried in ivy and moss. Its windows were dark, but as she approached, she noticed faint light flickering behind the curtains. The door creaked open without a sound, as if expecting her. Inside, the air smelled of damp wood and old memories. The floorboards groaned beneath her feet, and every step echoed strangely, as though the house itself was listening. She wandered through the rooms, finding remnants of a life long gone—furniture covered in dust, faded photographs on the walls, and a child’s toy lying forgotten on the floor. Then she heard it—a soft giggle, like a child whispering secrets. It came from upstairs. She climbed the stairs slowly, each step making the house seem heavier, as if it were pressing down on her. At the top, there was a small room with a single window overlooking the town. In the center of the room stood a rocking chair, swaying gently, though no wind touched it. As she stepped closer, the giggling grew louder, more insistent. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a figure—small, pale, and translucent. It was a child, sitting on the floor, drawing in the dust with a stick. Elara froze. The child looked up, meeting her eyes. For a moment, everything felt still. Then, the child smiled and whispered, “You’re late.” Before she could respond, the room began to shift. The walls rippled like water, and the air grew colder. The child vanished, leaving only a small mark in the dust where it had sat. The rocking chair stopped, and the house fell silent once more. Elara stumbled back down the stairs, her heart pounding. She wanted to leave, but something held her in place. As she reached the front door, she noticed something strange—her reflection in the window showed a different version of herself, one with hollow eyes and a distant expression. She turned quickly, but the window was empty. Outside, the town had changed. The buildings were older, their paint peeling, the streets narrower. People moved silently, their faces blank, their eyes vacant. A child ran past her, laughing, and when she turned to look, he was gone. She tried to speak, but her voice didn’t come out. It was as if the town had swallowed her words. In the distance, she saw the same house, now standing in the middle of the town square. It looked newer, as if it had never been abandoned. The door was open, and inside, she could see the same rocking chair, the same child, and the same faint light behind the curtains. She tried to run, but the ground beneath her feet shifted, pulling her forward. The last thing she saw was the child smiling again, this time with her own face.