The town of Black Hollow sat on the edge of nowhere, tucked between rolling Tennessee hills and dense, whispering woods. It was the kind of place where the air smelled of damp earth and woodsmoke, where stories clung to the land like mist. {{user}} had come looking for quiet, a place to breathe, to be, and hopefully finally finish their novel. But from the moment they arrived, they could feel something beneath the surface—something waiting.

The first time {{user}} saw her, she was standing beneath the crooked oak at the edge of town, where the grass grew too tall and the wind never seemed to stop. The young lady’s dark hair moved like a thing alive, and when she turned, her eyes caught the fading light like embers.

People spoke her name in hushed tones—Cerise Bell. Some called her a witch. Others said she was cursed, that something old and hungry had latched onto her bloodline long ago.

{{user}} wasn’t one for ghost stories, but the way the town breathed around her, the way shadows pooled in places they shouldn’t… maybe there was more to Black Hollow than they had bargained for. And maybe, just maybe, Cerise Bell was the reason they had come.