Page 2 of His to Slash

He grunted, as if confirming a long-held suspicion. "Just be careful up there, young lady. That place has a history."

A shiver ran down my spine at his words, but I forced a smile. "Thanks, I will."

I finished my shopping and headed back to my car, my mind racing. What was it about this town—about my family's home—that had everyone on edge? And why hadn't my mother ever talked about it?

As I drove back to the house, my curiosity grew. The Vesper name obviously carried some weight in Red Hallow, and I was determined to uncover the truth behind the whispers and warnings.

But for now, I had more pressing matters to attend to—like finding a working lightbulb and figuring out why the power kept flickering. As I pulled into the driveway, the sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the yard.

I stepped inside the house, the creak of the front door cutting through the silence. The place felt even creepier in the fading light, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. I told myself it was just the house settling, the normal sounds of an old building. But the hair on the back of my neck still stood on end.

"Hello?" My voice echoed through the empty rooms, and I winced at the sound. "Great, now I'm talking to myself." I rolled my eyes at my reflection in a dusty mirror hanging in the hallway.

I found the circuit breaker and flipped a few switches, but the power remained stubbornly off. "Wonderful. Just what I need," I muttered, grabbing my flashlight from my bag.

As I shone the light around the room, the beam landed on a note tucked under a vase on the mantelpiece. It was addressed to me, in my mother's neat handwriting.

My heart skipped a beat as I recognized her distinctive script. I snatched up the note, tearing it open with shaking fingers.

"Carly, my dear, if you're reading this, then you've finally come home. I always hoped you would return to Red Hallow one day, even though I knew it would be difficult for you. This place holds secrets, and you deserve to know the truth. I just hoped it would have been with me."

My breath caught in my throat. What truth? I scanned the rest of the note, but it held no further explanation, just instructions to explore the house and discover its history for myself.

"Explore the house?" I shined the flashlight around the room. "Great, a scavenger hunt. Just what every girl dreams of."

But something about the note sparked my curiosity. Despite my earlier apprehension, I found myself moving through the house with a newfound sense of purpose. I examined every corner, running my fingers over the worn furniture, searching for hidden compartments or clues.

I found a loose floorboard in the bedroom, prying it up to reveal a small, dust-covered box. Inside was a key, along with a yellowed photograph of my mother as a young woman, standing in front of the house with her arm around a man I didn't recognize.

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I stood there,the photo in my hand, my heart pounding. Who was this man, and why had my mother kept him a secret? Was he the reason we left Red Hallow all those years ago?

I ran my finger over the key that had been hidden with the photo. It was an old-fashioned skeleton key, the kind that might open a diary or a locked drawer. I had a strange urge to find out what it unlocked.

As I turned to survey the room, my eyes fell on the built-in bookshelves that lined one wall. They were filled with a haphazard collection of books, most of them old and dusty, their spines faded. I ran my fingers along the shelves, feeling for any hidden catches or mechanisms.

Then I spotted it—a small, almost invisible keyhole at the back of one of the shelves. My heart quickened as I inserted the key and turned it, hearing a soft click.

The shelf swung open, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a small wooden box, similar to a jewelry case. I lifted the lid, expecting to find more photos or letters, but instead, I saw a single, intricately carved wooden figure. It was a statue of a terrifying creature, part-man, part-demon, with horns and a snarling face.

I couldn't help but shudder as I picked it up. There was something inherently disturbing about it, and I felt a sudden urge to put it back, as if it were something forbidden that should never see the light of day.

I carefully placed the statue back in the box and closed the hidden compartment, locking it again with the key. I needed to find out more about this strange figure and its connection to my family.

* * *

I'd only been in Red Hallow for a day, but the town had already managed to burrow under my skin. The locals eyed me with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, and their whispers followed me like a shadow. They spoke in hushed tones about the "Red Hallow Slasher," a name that sent a shiver down my spine every time I heard it.

I'd never heard of such a figure before coming here, which seemed odd, considering the media's obsession with serial killers. It was as if this slasher was a closely guarded secret, one that the town both feared and revered. The more I asked about him, the less I understood—no one would give me a straight answer. All they offered were cryptic hints and warnings to be careful, that he "came out around this time of year like clockwork."

The mystery of it all was maddening. I found myself haunted by the thought of this faceless killer, roaming the streets of Red Hallow, a place that was supposed to be my fresh start. The fear was a living thing inside me, gnawing at my resolve to rebuild my life here.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the town, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The creak of the old house and the rustle of the wind outside seemed louder, more ominous. I tried to distract myself with the mundane task of unpacking, but my thoughts kept drifting back to the slasher.

I was arranging my clothes in the ancient wardrobe when my hand brushed against something cold and metallic. It was another key, similar to the one I'd found earlier, but this one was attached to a faded red ribbon. My heart skipped a beat. What secrets did this key guard?

With the key in hand, I began to search the room for a lock that might match it. My fingers traced the grain of the wooden floorboards, the edges of the dusty fireplace mantel, the seams of the antique furniture. And then, in the corner of the room, I noticed a small, ornate chest that I hadn't seen before. It was as if it had materialized from the shadows, just for me.

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