The rain was relentless that evening, falling in sheets that blurred the horizon and cast the world into an endless gray. The kind of rain that could drown the earth if it lasted long enough. The small town of Red Hollow, nestled at the edge of a forgotten stretch of wilderness, seemed like a world apart. Few people ever came here, and even fewer stayed long enough to be considered part of the place. But for those who did, it felt like a sanctuary. At least, that’s what Nora believed when she first arrived.

She had come to Red Hollow seeking a break from her life—away from the stress of the city, the relentless demands of her career, and the slow burn of loneliness that had started to suffocate her. A quiet cabin by a secluded lake, with no one but the sound of rain and the occasional bird call for company. What more could a woman ask for?

But as Nora settled into the old wooden cabin near the edge of Crimson Lake, something didn’t feel right. It was subtle at first—a cold draft in the hallway when the windows were shut, a distant whisper on the wind that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. It wasn’t the kind of thing one could put into words, but it was enough to make her uneasy. The lake, too, seemed different. Its surface always rippled, even when there was no wind. At night, the water gleamed with an unnatural red hue, as if stained by something unseen.

Nora shrugged off the feeling. She’d heard the rumors, of course. Everyone in town talked about Crimson Lake, though they never mentioned it in a pleasant tone. Some said the lake had a strange history—a tragic past marked by disappearances, murders, and inexplicable deaths. Others claimed the water itself was cursed, that it had a life of its own, and it called to those who dared to venture too close. But these were just stories, right? Folklore designed to keep curious strangers away.

The first real sign that something was terribly wrong came on the second night of her stay. Nora woke up in the middle of the night to the sound of scratching—slow, deliberate, as though something was scraping against the walls of her cabin. Her heart raced as she lay in the dark, staring at the shadows on the ceiling. It wasn’t an animal; there was no animal in the world that could make that kind of noise. The air felt thick, suffocating. Her fingers trembled as she reached for the lamp on the bedside table, casting the room in a dim, yellow light.

But the noise stopped as soon as the light flickered to life. The silence that followed was so intense, it felt as though the world itself had paused, holding its breath.

Nora got out of bed, feeling as if the room itself were watching her. She cautiously opened the door and stepped into the hallway, the cool floorboards creaking beneath her feet. The front door was ajar. She hadn’t left it open, not since she arrived. Her pulse quickened as she approached it, and just as her hand reached the doorknob, something caught her eye. A shadow—dark, fleeting, but unmistakable—moved across the lawn outside, just beyond the porch.

She froze. Her mind raced. Was it an animal? Or someone?

Before she could take a step toward the door, a voice echoed from the dark woods beyond the cabin. “Nora.”

The voice was low, almost a whisper, but it was unmistakable. She knew it wasn’t her imagination. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she strained her ears to catch another sound, but there was nothing. No footsteps, no rustling of the trees. Just silence, like the voice had been absorbed by the very earth beneath her feet.

“Nora,” it repeated, this time closer, almost a breath on the wind. The voice sent a chill down her spine, and for the first time, she truly felt fear. Her instincts screamed at her to run, but the door wouldn’t open. It was as if something was holding it shut from the outside.

Desperately, she backed away from the door, her breath shallow, her mind spinning. There had to be an explanation. It had to be a trick of the wind, a hallucination, a figment of her imagination. But no matter how hard she tried to rationalize it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something—or someone—was out there, watching her.

With trembling hands, she grabbed her phone to call for help, but there was no signal. The cabin was far from the nearest town, and the storm had knocked out any communication with the outside world. She was alone, completely alone.

The hours dragged on. The storm didn’t let up, and neither did the feeling that something was lurking just out of sight, waiting for the right moment to strike. Nora didn’t sleep a wink. She couldn’t. Every creak of the house, every whisper of the wind, made her jump. And yet, as the night stretched on, the lake remained still, its crimson surface glistening like blood in the dim light of the cabin’s window.

When dawn finally broke, the storm had lessened, and the world outside seemed calmer. But Nora couldn’t shake the terror that had gripped her. She didn’t know what had happened, but she was sure that the shadow from the night before had been real.

She needed answers.

Her first stop was the small convenience store in town. The old man behind the counter greeted her with a nod, his eyes glinting with quiet recognition. He’d seen her arrive the day before, and although his face showed no expression, his eyes seemed to tell a different story.

“I’d like to know more about the lake,” Nora said, trying to sound casual. “Is there something… unusual about it?”

The old man’s eyes darkened. He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It’s not the lake you need to worry about, miss. It’s the shadow that lives there.”

Nora blinked, unsure if she had heard him right. “What do you mean?”

“The shadow,” he repeated, his voice shaking now. “The one that comes every ten years, takes someone, and leaves nothing but the mark of its touch. People say it’s the lake itself, or something that came from it. But there’s no explaining it. You see, that lake… it changes people.”

Nora felt her stomach twist into knots. “What happens to them?”

“They’re never the same again. Some disappear. Others are found… but they’re different. I don’t know how to explain it. It’s as if the lake… claims them, or something.”

Her heart pounded. The feeling of dread she had experienced the night before suddenly made sense. The shadow she had seen, the voice that had called her name—it wasn’t just her imagination. Something was coming for her.

Without another word, Nora left the store. She had to find a way to leave the cabin, to get as far from Crimson Lake as possible. But as she walked back to her car, the world seemed eerily still. The rain had stopped, but the sky remained overcast, heavy with an unspoken threat.

And then, just before she could reach the safety of her car, she saw it.

A figure standing at the edge of the lake, cloaked in shadows. Its form was indistinct, like smoke that refused to dissipate, but the eyes—those eyes—burned with an unnatural crimson light, glowing from within. The figure didn’t move, just stood there, watching her.

Nora didn’t wait for another moment. She turned and ran, not looking back, not caring about the storm or the strange happenings in this cursed town. She knew one thing for certain: she would never return to Crimson Lake.