🎃 The House in the Hills – Part 1

🎃 The House in the Hills – Part 1

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The journey toward the village felt endless. The road, full of sharp bends and barely paved, made the trip three times longer than it should have been. The car rattled over stones and dust as the three friends —Max, Lucy, and Sebas— grew increasingly tired and silent. What was supposed to be a short drive turned into an exhausting climb through twisting mountain paths.

By the time they finally arrived, night had already fallen. The village was buried in darkness, the air heavy and still. Only one dim streetlight flickered on the main road, casting long, trembling shadows over the five small houses that made up the place. A couple of larger buildings stood in the distance —old barns, maybe— half hidden by fog.

They parked near the small house they had rented and grabbed their few bags, laptops, and notebooks —everything they needed to spend a month writing the movie script they’d been dreaming of. The house looked ancient, the kind of place that had seen better decades, with wooden shutters hanging slightly off their hinges and ivy crawling up one side.

Max knelt beside the door, searching under a flowerpot, and found the key, just as the owner had promised. He tried turning it in the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. The key was rusty, the lock older still. “Come on…” he muttered, forcing it. When it still didn’t open, he groaned, “For God’s sake! Why won’t this damn door open?”

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“Max, don’t shout,” said Lucy, lowering her voice instinctively. “There might not be many people living here, but whoever does probably wants to sleep.”

As soon as she finished speaking, a thud echoed from somewhere nearby. Lucy spun around, eyes wide. “What was that?”

Sebas laughed. “Lucy, come on, please. We’re alone here. Maybe it was a wild boar or something.”

Lucy frowned. “A wild boar doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Then, CLACK — the lock finally gave in. Max pushed the door so hard that it slammed open with a bang that rolled through the valley like thunder, startling a flock of birds that took off into the night.

“See? Nothing to worry about,” he said, smirking.

But Lucy was still staring toward the other end of the street. For just a second, she thought she saw a shadow move behind the window of one of the houses. A faint light flickered —and then it was gone.

“Did you see that?” she whispered.

Max looked over his shoulder. “What, the shadow of some grandpa who’s been living here forever? Relax. We’re the intruders here, not them.”

They stepped inside. The air was cold, heavy with dust and the smell of old wood. The floor creaked under their feet, and somewhere in the distance a door hinge groaned, as if the house were sighing after years of silence.

Sebas placed the bags on the table and exhaled. “Well… welcome home, I guess.”

Lucy still stood by the entrance, her gaze fixed on the window. Outside, the single streetlight flickered one last time before dying completely. The entire village was swallowed by darkness.

And then —from somewhere behind the house— came a sound. A slow, dragging noise, like something heavy being pulled across the floor.

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This is Part 1 of The House in the Hills, a short horror story I’ll be posting in chapters until Halloween 🎃. It’s my first time writing fiction, and I’m really enjoying the process — experimenting, imagining, and learning along the way. Thanks to Hive and PeakD for giving me a place to share it, and to this wonderful creative community for the motivation. 🖋️

I hope you enjoyed my post! 💬 Leave me a comment, I’d love to read you 🌿