HAUNTED MANORS 1. The Haunting of Hollowmoor Manor. October

Chapter One: Release

In the chill of an October night, when the moon hung low and the gnarled branches of ancient oaks clawed at the sky, I found myself drawn to Hollowmoor Manor - a dilapidated relic whispered about in the town below. The townsfolk spoke in hushed tones of its ghostly inhabitants, souls trapped in a torment of their own making, forever wandering the decaying halls of their ancestral home.

As I approached the manor, a thick fog rolled in, wrapping the structure in a shroud of mystery. The air was heavy with the scent of damp earth and rotting wood, each step forward echoing the trepidation swelling in my chest. The door creaked open at my touch, revealing a darkened foyer, littered with dust-laden portraits that seemed to observe my intrusion.

With each step deeper into the manor, the silence grew oppressive, as if the very walls were steeped in sorrow. I passed through a grand hallway, where faded wallpaper clung to the walls like a ghostly remnant of forgotten grandeur. The flickering candlelight I had brought with me cast wavering shadows, playing tricks on my mind, as though the past were alive and writhing just out of sight.

Suddenly, a loud crash echoed from the drawing room, sending a jolt of adrenaline through me. I rushed toward the sound, my heart pounding in rhythm with my footsteps. The door burst open, and I found the room in disarray: chairs overturned, books scattered, and the once-still air charged with energy.

In the center of the chaos stood a figure draped in tattered white - a ghostly woman with wild hair and hollow eyes. She pointed toward the fireplace, where flames flickered with an unnatural intensity.

"Help us!" she cried, her voice a mix of anguish and desperation. "They are restless!"

Before I could respond, the shadows in the corners of the room twisted and coiled, coalescing into dark forms that surged toward me. I instinctively grabbed a heavy candlestick from a nearby table and swung it as the first shadow lunged. It collided with the candlestick, erupting into a cloud of black mist, and I felt a chill seep into my bones.

“Stay back!” I shouted, heart racing. The ghostly woman screamed, and the walls shuddered. Her face contorted with anguish as she pointed again, this time toward the mirror hanging on the wall, its surface swirling like a storm.

With no time to think, I dashed toward the mirror, determined to confront whatever lay within. As I reached it, the shadows surged, their grasping hands reaching for me. I felt their cold fingers brush my skin, but I was undeterred. I slammed my palm against the mirror, and a blinding light exploded outward, pushing back the shadows.

The room transformed; the walls pulsed with energy, and the air crackled with a force that felt alive. The ghostly woman hovered close, her eyes wide with a mixture of fear and hope.

“You can free them!” she urged. “But you must act quickly!”

The shadows roared in defiance, swirling around me as I summoned all my courage. I focused on the ghostly figures, recalling their names - their stories lost to time.

“Release!” I shouted, my voice echoing like thunder. “Let their memories guide you!”

As if responding to my plea, the mirror rippled, revealing glimpses of the children who had once played in the nursery - a joyful scene that turned dark as their laughter morphed into cries for help. The shadows recoiled, and I could feel the energy shifting, the tide turning.

In that moment, the woman reached out, her ethereal hand brushing against mine.

“You must remember!” she whispered urgently. “Their joy is your weapon!”

I closed my eyes, allowing the memories to flood my mind. I envisioned the nursery, filled with laughter and light. With renewed resolve, I shouted their names again, louder this time, each name igniting a spark in the dark.

The shadows writhed in anger, but the power of remembrance surged through me, brightening the room.

“Lenore! Anna! Thomas! Clara!” I cried, invoking their spirits, calling them forth. The air thickened, the very fabric of the manor trembling as the shadows began to dissolve.

With a final, desperate push, I lunged toward the mirror, the ghostly woman beside me. Together, we pressed against its surface, and the light erupted in a blinding flash. The shadows screamed, twisting and collapsing in on themselves until they vanished with a final, echoing wail.

Silence fell, heavy and profound. I opened my eyes to find the drawing room transformed. The oppressive darkness had lifted; the air was now filled with warmth and the distant echoes of laughter. The ghostly woman smiled at me, her form shimmering with a new light.

“Thank you,” she breathed, her voice now soft and serene. “You have set us free.”

As she began to fade, I felt a profound sense of peace wash over me. The manor, once a prison of despair, had transformed into a sanctuary of light. The whispers of the past had turned to echoes of joy, and I understood that I had not just battled the darkness but embraced the light that remained.

Chapter Two: The Secrets of Hollowmoor

Despite my success, I felt a nagging sense of unease as I left the manor. The experience had changed me, awakened a curiosity I couldn't shake. I spent the next few days delving into the history of Hollowmoor Manor, poring over old town records and newspaper clippings in the dusty archives of the local library.

I discovered that the manor had been built in the late 18th century by the Holloway family, who were said to be deeply involved in the occult. They hosted lavish parties filled with strange rituals and were rumored to have dabbled in dark magic. The family had met a tragic end: a fire consumed the upper floors during a stormy night, claiming the lives of several children and the parents, their spirits reportedly trapped in the manor ever since.

Intrigued and determined to uncover the truth, I returned to Hollowmoor on Halloween night. This time, I was equipped with more than just a candle and courage - I had a journal, filled with my findings, and a renewed sense of purpose. As I stepped inside, the air felt electric, charged with the weight of untold stories.

The drawing room was quiet, but a sense of urgency hung in the air. I approached the mirror again, feeling its pull as I opened my journal.

“I need your help,” I murmured, hoping the spirits would hear me. “I want to know what happened here.”

The mirror shimmered, and the reflection rippled like water. Slowly, it transformed into a vision: the Holloway family, dressed in elegant clothing, laughing and dancing in a grand hall. The scene shifted abruptly - dark clouds gathered outside, and shadows flickered at the edges of the room, whispering secrets that seemed just out of reach.

Suddenly, a loud bang echoed from the upper floor, breaking the spell. The floorboards creaked ominously above me, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. My heart raced as I ventured cautiously toward the staircase, each step laden with foreboding.

As I ascended, the air grew colder, the shadows deepening with each movement. I reached the second floor, where the hallway stretched dimly ahead, its walls adorned with family portraits whose eyes seemed to follow my every move. The whispers grew louder, urging me forward.

I approached a door at the end of the hall, its frame cracked and aged. It swung open at my touch, revealing a nursery filled with forgotten toys, dust motes dancing in the pale moonlight. A small, ornate rocking chair swayed gently, though the air was still. The ghostly figures of children flitted in and out of view, their laughter mingling with the faint cries of despair.

“Why are you still here?” I called out, my voice trembling.

From the shadows, the spirit of a young girl emerged - Lenore, the oldest of the children, her face pale and eyes wide with fear.

“We are trapped,” she whispered. “We need to find the truth.”

Before I could respond, a heavy presence swept into the room, dark and oppressive. Shadows writhed around me, and I felt their icy grip as they surged toward the girl.

“No!” I shouted, stepping in front of her. “You will not take her!”

 

In that moment, I realized the shadows were manifestations of the family's dark past - remnants of the fear and sorrow that had lingered long after their tragic demise. I grabbed a small toy from the floor, a wooden horse that felt strangely warm, and held it out toward the shadows.

“You cannot have her! Remember the joy! Remember who you were!”

The shadows recoiled, shrieking in rage. I pressed on, recalling the laughter I had heard in the drawing room. “You are more than your pain! You were loved!”

The girl’s spirit stepped beside me, her presence illuminating the room.

“Help us remember!” she cried, her voice rising above the cacophony.

Together, we began to chant the names of the children lost in the fire, invoking the memories of their laughter and love. The shadows surged forward, but the light from our combined will pushed back against the darkness. The room pulsed with energy, the walls vibrating with the power of remembrance.

With a final, desperate roar, the shadows began to dissolve, revealing the true forms of the younger children - Anna, Thomas, Clara - gathering together, their eyes shining with gratitude. As they joined hands, the room erupted in a burst of light, enveloping us all.

Chapter Three: The Final Confrontation

The bright light faded, and I found myself back in the nursery, now transformed into a vibrant playroom filled with colors and laughter. The shadows that once haunted the corners had dissipated, replaced by a warm glow that illuminated the faces of the children. They were no longer lost spirits; they had returned to their joyful forms, their smiles radiant and their laughter ringing like music in the air.

“Thank you,” the girl, Anna, said, her voice sweet and clear. “You’ve freed us from our sorrow.”

As I looked around, I felt a deep sense of fulfillment but also an unsettling thought creeping in: the shadows had been strong, fueled by something darker than mere grief. The fire that had claimed the Holloway family had not been an accident, and I needed to uncover the truth behind it. My curiosity was reignited.

“Where did the fire come from?” I asked, my voice trembling with urgency. “What really happened that night?”

The children exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from joy to a deep sorrow that darkened their eyes.

“The darkness came from within,” Clara replied softly. “A curse was placed upon us - a betrayal by someone we loved. It caused the fire, consuming everything.”

“What do you mean?” I pressed, desperate for answers. “Who betrayed you?”

Thomas stepped forward, his small frame almost regal. “Our parents sought power, delving into the forbidden. They invited a stranger - a dark sorcerer - into our home. He promised them immortality, but they were foolish to trust him.”

“The sorcerer cursed the manor,” Anna added, her voice trembling. “When the fire erupted, it was not just flames; it was his wrath. He wanted our souls.”

As they spoke, I felt the weight of their history pressing down on me. The manor had not only been a prison for their spirits; it was a battleground between light and dark.

“We must confront this sorcerer,” I said, my resolve hardening. “He must be the source of the lingering shadows.”

“His essence remains in the house,” Thomas warned. “We must find the source of his power - an ancient amulet hidden within the manor. It is the key to breaking the curse.”

I nodded, determination coursing through me. “Show me where to find it.”

The children led me down a winding staircase, deeper into the bowels of the manor. The air grew heavy with the scent of smoke and ash, the remnants of the fire still haunting the space. We arrived at a door that appeared untouched by time, intricately carved with runes and symbols I could not decipher.

 

“This is the chamber,” Anna said, her eyes wide with fear and hope. “The amulet is inside, but be careful. The sorcerer’s spirit will not let you take it easily.”

I pushed the door open, revealing a dimly lit chamber filled with artifacts from the manor’s past. In the center, atop a pedestal, rested an amulet - a dark gemstone set in twisted silver. The moment I laid eyes on it, I felt a chill run through me, as though the amulet were alive and aware.

As I approached, the air thickened, and a voice echoed through the chamber.

“Foolish child,” it hissed. “You dare challenge me?”

The shadows coalesced into a dark figure, the sorcerer’s malevolent form taking shape. His eyes glowed with an otherworldly light, and a wicked grin stretched across his face.

“You think you can free them? Their souls belong to me!”

I gripped the wooden horse tightly, its warmth grounding me.

“No! You will not have them! They are not yours to claim!”

With a wave of his hand, the sorcerer unleashed a torrent of shadows that surged toward me, intent on enveloping my very being. I stood firm, channeling the energy of the children, recalling their laughter and love.

“You are nothing but a coward!” I shouted, my voice echoing in the chamber. “You feed on fear, but I will not fear you!”

The shadows faltered for a moment, and I seized the opportunity. I lunged for the amulet, feeling its energy pulse beneath my fingertips. The moment I touched it, a surge of light erupted from the gem, pushing back the darkness surrounding me.

“NO!” the sorcerer howled, his form flickering as the light threatened to consume him. “You cannot!"”

“Watch me!” I cried, raising the amulet high. The children’s spirits gathered around me, their laughter mixing with the amulet’s light, creating a dazzling aura that filled the chamber.

In a final act of defiance, I hurled the amulet at the sorcerer. It struck him squarely in the chest, and with an ear-splitting roar, the light exploded, engulfing him in a brilliant flash. Shadows twisted and writhed, disintegrating before my eyes as the sorcerer’s form shattered into a million pieces, leaving nothing but silence in his wake.

 

Chapter Four: A New Dawn

As the dust settled, the chamber transformed. The once-dark walls shimmered with light, the shadows gone, replaced by an ethereal glow. The children’s laughter filled the air, echoing with joy. They danced around me, free at last from the curse that had bound them for so long.

“Thank you!” they chorused, their voices lifting into a sweet melody. “You have freed us!”

I felt tears of relief welling in my eyes as they twirled around me, their forms glowing brighter with each passing moment.

“You deserve to be at peace,” I whispered, my heart swelling with happiness.

With a final, radiant flash, the children began to dissolve into light, their forms melding with the air around us.

“Remember us,” Lenore said, her voice a soft echo. “We will always be with you.”

The room shimmered, and I stood alone, the amulet still warm in my hand. As I left the room, I felt an overwhelming sense of closure wash over me. Hollowmoor Manor had transformed from a place of despair into a sanctuary of hope, a beacon of the love and laughter that once filled its halls.

I stepped outside, the moon illuminating the path ahead. The manor stood majestic against the starry sky, a symbol of resilience and renewal. I took a deep breath, feeling lighter than I had in years, the burdens of the past finally lifted.

As I walked away, the whispers of the children echoed in my heart, and I knew I would carry their stories with me forever. The cycle of darkness had been broken, replaced by a legacy of light. I would tell their tale, ensuring that the love and joy they once knew would never be forgotten.

And as the first light of dawn broke over the horizon, I knew that Hollowmoor Manor would stand as a testament to the enduring bond between the living and the dead - a dance of shadows and light, forever intertwined.

I felt a deep sense of relief again this Halloween night. Years of denying my powers, inner doubts that turned into physical illnesses had made me question again and again the delusion of my grandmother's words: “A sorcerer must use his power, or the power will build up in him and destroy him”. 

I thought about her words only recently, when even the doctors were tired of looking for reasons for my unreasonable illnesses. This was my eighth “good deed” as a sorcerer. Now my life was different, the way it needed to be - healthy and with the goal.

Author's Note

This is the first horror story in my "Haunted Manors" horror stories series

Reviews

[Betty Hermelee]

This a great, mysterious story that leads the reader to an excellent ending...love all the shadows brought to life and the sorcerer who was killed in a blast of fire; and all the hidden secrets of he manor house that were uncovered by the writer...shadows which trapped all, turned into light... and thus we found out about the history of the family who perished in fire....very well written, kept my attention...Bravo!
Warmly, B

[Yana Larson]

Thank you very much! I'm glad you enjoyed it :)

[Betty Hermelee]

you’re very welcome🌷
warmly, B

[Relic]

I think this would make a great children's story. The haunted house, the spirits of the children, and sorcerer's all work together to make this a chilling ghost tale.

You didn't mention any years, so if this were set in a more modern era you might want to replace the candle with a flashlight. With all that rushing ahead, throwing amulates, it would probably go out.

You also mentioned throwing the amulet into the sorcerer's chest. How did it get into the speaker's hand?

In any case, I found this to be quite enjoyable story telling and I'll be reading Haunted Manors 2 very soon.

Good writing. :) 100/100

[Yana Larson]

If I write some details, then they should be there.

Thank you for your comment, I'm glad you liked it)

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

I loved how in chapter one we go straight into the action – we do not yet know why the protagonist is in this house, and questions about them naturally arise. If I were to make one change, I would give more time for the build-up before the “fight” with the shadows. This draws out the suspense, and it can also give you some room for character development.
I did want a bit more background information on the protagonist. Most importantly, I want to know: what is their weakness? While the plot itself is engaging, an internal journey for the hero would raise this ghost story to a higher level.
But I loved your writing throughout. The prose is full of great words and phrases and it kept me reading. I hope to read more of your work.

[Yana Larson]

Many people would like to make their own corrections even in the works of world classics :)
Well... The short story is a small genre of literature that does not involve broad descriptions of characters' feelings and backgrounds, unlike the novel. I write short stories, one of which you've read.

Thank you for your reading and thank you for your comment. Japan is a wonderful country. Have a good day!

What is your favourite scarry movie?

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

horror movies: The VVitch, Babadook, The Wailing (Korean), Dark Water (Japan), Hausu (Japan), Let the Right One In, Razorback, The Loved Ones
... and i also love the classics like Texas Chainsaw, Evil Dead etc. you?

[Yana Larson]

Yeah, Texas Chainsaw is classic. I also like Rosemary's Baby, the Birds, the Mist (2007), the Scream, the Happy Death Day, the Others, the Lights out... And many others

[Ern M. Yoshimoto]

it took me two years for me to summon the courage to watch Lights Out. in the end, it wasn't as scary as I thought, but it was a terrifying concept.

[Yana Larson]

I watched the film without knowing what the film was about. But after watching it, I tried to turn on the lights at home as much as possible))))) I believe that only brave people are able to watch the film to the end. But yes, the ending is a little simplified