Nestled between the rolling emerald hills laid the remote village of Blackhollow, home to no more than a hundred residents. On the outskirts stood a thick, ominous forest that cast a looming shadow across the otherwise picturesque landscape. The villagers rarely ventured near the edge of the woods and warned their children to avoid it altogether. For within the darkened boughs and tangled brush lurked an ancient evil, as old as the trees themselves.
The parents often gathered their little ones by the fire to recount the chilling tale. Long ago, when the village founders established Blackhollow, a strange sickness befell their people. Livestock turned up brutally maimed and mutilated while children started to disappear into the night, their anguished screams swallowed by the darkness. Packs of wolves and other beasts were initially blamed, driving the settlers to take up arms for protection. But the attacks continued unabated, escalating in frequency and brutality.
Then, on one cold winter night, a group of men gave chase to a suspected wolf, tracks leading deep into the woods. Only one survived to tell the awful truth. They had cornered the creature in a misty clearing, but it was no ordinary animal. The pale figure stood on two legs, distorted limbs jutting at odd angles and eyes glowing blood-red. It screeched an unearthly wail that chilled their bones before vanishing into thin air.
The demon had revealed itself, cursing the forest and preying on the innocent to satisfy its insatiable blood-lust. The founders desperately tried to fight back against the evil entity but traditional weapons proved useless. So they constructed a massive stone wall encircling the area to contain the threat, vowing never to trespass into the spirit's domain. They named the village Blackhollow as a warning to outsiders that darkness lay within.
The creature soon earned the moniker "Soulstealer," rumored to ensnare victims with ghostly visions to drain their life force. Over the generations, it passed from legend into accepted truth. Though sightings dwindled, parents still cautioned adventurous offspring about the vengeful ghost. Most heeded the warnings, too fearful to test the tales that left such a lasting mark on their quiet community...
Ryan jolted upright in bed, shaking from yet another terrifying dream. The hazy image of the demonic entity reaching for him with shadowy claws still lingered fresh in his mind. Heart racing, he scanned the dark room while trying to slow his panicked gasps. His family's small cottage looked perfectly ordinary in the pale moonlight streaming through the window. The plain wooden furniture and stone hearth showed no signs of anything sinister. Still unnerved, Ryan pulled the thick wool blanket tighter as he gradually convinced himself it was just a nightmare.
As the anxiety began subsiding, he flopped back down with an exasperated sigh. Ryan figured he knew the real culprit behind his restless nights; his obnoxious friends. The five of them- Ryan, Oliver, Lucas, Caleb, and Jory- grew up together, causing various degrees of mischief around Blackhollow. Though two years his seniors, Ryan held his keeping up with their boyish antics. But the older boys particularly delighted in exploiting his one critical weakness- Ryan scared more easily than a mouse in a clowder of cats.
The slightest creepy story or prank could send Ryan's nerves on overdrive for hours. His friends endlessly amused themselves by triggering his intense bouts of panic. Then they would tease him for days about shrieking like a little girl or jumping three feet in the air over some silly rubber spider. Ryan acted annoyed but endured the good-natured taunting as part of the camaraderie. Secretly though, he loathed feeling humiliated and the lingering effects long after the spectacle.
Rolling back over, Ryan traced the pronounced grain in the weathered wood beam over his bed. He mentally prepared himself for another round of juvenile spooking from the guys. Tomorrow marked the annual summer festival celebrating Blackhollow's founding, which meant no lessons. The group already decided to camp overnight in an abandoned barn near the eastern farmlands. Between telling horror stories and probably rigging up some hokey prank to send him into hysterics, Ryan faced little prospect of peaceful slumber.
As much as Ryan dreaded these aggravating situations, a small defiant part of him refused to back down. He may exhibit ridiculous overreactions to harmless fun, but Ryan stayed fiercely loyal to his friends. If enduring a bit of embarrassment kept him included, then so be it. Sticks and stones, right? Gathering his courage, Ryan gradually relaxed enough to finally drift off back to sleep. Tomorrow he would show the other boys that he could take whatever spooky nonsense they threw his way...
"Did you hear that?" Ryan whipped around, eyes darting wildly through the darkness. An owl hooted somewhere in the distance, branches rustling gently against the worn wooden walls. He sat tucked in his bedroll, unable to sleep despite the late hour. The single lantern on a crooked table cast long dancing shadows across the expansive barn interior.
"Hear what, you ninny? There's nothing out there but the normal night noises," Lucas jeered from his sprawled position, not even opening his eyes. The other boys chuckled sleepily, various states of burrowed into their makeshift beds.
Ryan forced an uneasy laugh to cover his skittishness. Of course, he was just hearing things, worked up from Caleb's story about the blood-stained scarecrow that haunted Mr. Talbot's fields during harvest. Tales of the dreaded Soulstealer dominated most of the evening's attempts to unsettle Ryan's delicate constitution. Though by now long desensitized to those tired fables, Ryan's imagination tended to run wild when he got overtired. He shook off the creeping unease to settle back under his cloak, avoiding eye contact with the amused stares from his friends.
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