Chapter 8 The House's True Master

Donald thought the house was the true evil. He thought Melissa Blackwood had been its master.

But now, trapped in its suffocating darkness, he realized something far worse.

The house was just a vessel.

And the true horror inside it was still waiting to reveal itself.

---

The basement twisted around Donald and Jones, its walls pulsing like a living thing.

The shadows deepened, and from within them, Melissa Blackwood stepped forward.

But she wasn't fully human anymore.

Her skin had faded to ashen gray, her eyes black pits of swirling shadows.

"The house was never mine," she whispered. "I was only its servant. Just as you will be."

Jones trembled beside Donald. "Who does it belong to?"

Melissa smiled.

The air grew heavy, an ancient energy pressing down on them.

From behind her, something moved.

Not a person. Not a ghost.

Something bigger. Older. Hungrier.

And then Donald saw it.

---

A shape rose from the darkness.

At first, it was impossible to comprehend.

A shifting mass of rotting wood, blackened hands, and empty, screaming faces-all merging, twisting, breaking apart and reforming.

It was the house itself.

But within it, at its center, something else pulsed.

A being that was never human.

A creature that had existed long before walls were built around it.

The house had not created it.

The house had been built to contain it.

And now, after centuries, it was awake.

And it was hungry.

---

"Every house needs a keeper," Melissa whispered. "And it has chosen you, Donald."

Donald felt it-the entity's will pushing into his mind, seeping into his thoughts like poison.

If he gave in, if he let it consume him-

He wouldn't just die.

He would become part of it.

Just like Melissa. Just like the Blackwood family before him.

"I won't," Donald growled, fighting against the pull.

Melissa only laughed. "You already belong to it."

---

The shadows wrapped around Donald, dragging him forward.

A voice, not Melissa's but something much older, whispered in his mind.

"Surrender, and I will let the boy go."

Jones.

Donald looked at him-paralyzed with fear, unable to fight.

If Donald refused, the house would take both of them.

But if he accepted the role, Jones would be free.

The house would have a new keeper.

And its hunger would be fed.

---

The walls began closing in, the house consuming itself, preparing to trap him inside forever.

Donald turned to Jones.

"Run," he whispered.

"Donald ,no-"

"GO!"

Donald lunged forward, toward the entity, letting its darkness wrap around him.

Jones hesitated-then sprinted for the stairs.

The house screamed.

The entity pushed deeper into Donald's mind, claiming him as its own.

---

The last thing Donald saw was Jones bursting through the front door, collapsing onto the grass outside.

The moment Jones left-

The house vanished.

Black Hollow Road stood empty.

As if the house had never been there at all.

But Donald knew the truth.

It was still there.

Just... somewhere else.

Waiting.

And inside it, trapped in the dark, Donald heard the whispers begin again.

Because now-he was the house.

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