In the quiet town of Elmsworth, nestled between two fog-draped hills, there was a place no one dared to mention. It was called the Hollow House, though few knew where it was exactly. Some said it had been abandoned for decades, others claimed it was never really built at all. The only thing everyone agreed on was that those who entered it never returned the same. Elias Whitmore, a young journalist with a fascination for the unexplained, first heard about the Hollow House from an old man in the local library. The man, whose name was never given, spoke in hushed tones as if afraid the walls might listen. "They don’t want people asking questions," he whispered, eyes darting toward the ceiling. "You go there, and you’ll find things that don’t belong in this world." Elias didn’t believe in ghosts or conspiracies, but something about the old man’s words lingered. He began digging through archives, finding fragmented reports of disappearances, strange lights, and whispers of experiments conducted by a now-defunct government agency. The files were incomplete, redacted, and often missing entire pages. One document mentioned a project code-named "Echo," which had supposedly been shut down in 1978. No further details were available. Curiosity got the better of him. On a cold October evening, Elias set out alone, following a map drawn in the margins of an old journal. The path led him through dense woods, where the trees seemed to lean inward, as if trying to block the way. When he finally reached the house, it was smaller than he expected—just a weather-worn structure with cracked windows and a rusted gate that groaned as he pushed it open. Inside, the air was thick and still. Dust motes floated lazily in the dim light, and the floorboards creaked under his weight. The walls were lined with faded photographs, some of which showed people he didn’t recognize, others of which looked eerily familiar. He found a desk covered in old papers, most of them smudged with ink that had long since dried. One page stood out: a list of names, each accompanied by a date and a location. All of them were people who had vanished without a trace. As he examined the notes, a low hum filled the room. It wasn’t coming from anywhere specific, just vibrating in the air like a forgotten memory. Elias turned around, expecting to see someone behind him, but the room was empty. The temperature dropped suddenly, and his breath formed visible clouds. He stepped back, heart pounding, but the door had disappeared. Panic surged through him, but he forced himself to stay calm. He searched the house, finding more strange artifacts—clocks that ran backward, mirrors that reflected nothing, and a single chair that seemed to move when he wasn’t looking. In a hidden room, he discovered a small terminal with a flickering screen. It displayed a message: “Project Echo is active. You are not supposed to be here.” The screen went dark, and the hum grew louder. A faint voice echoed in his mind, not spoken aloud, but felt deep within. “You have seen too much. You must choose: remember or forget.” Elias stumbled out of the house, breathless and disoriented. The forest was different now—trees stretched impossibly tall, and the sky had shifted to a strange shade of violet. He couldn’t tell how long he had been inside, but the sun had already set. When he finally reached the edge of the woods, the town of Elmsworth was gone. In its place stood a vast, empty field, and in the distance, a massive structure loomed—something that looked like a cross between a research facility and a cathedral. He ran, not knowing where he was going, until he collapsed near a highway. A passing truck picked him up, and when he arrived in the nearest city, he asked the driver what year it was. The man looked at him strangely. “2024,” he said. “You look like you’ve been gone for a long time.” Elias didn’t know what to believe. He tried to tell people about the Hollow House, but no one had ever heard of it. The records he had found were gone, erased from the archives. And yet, in his dreams, he could still hear the hum, feel the cold, and see the faces in the photos—faces that had once belonged to people who were never meant to be remembered.