The ChillX Zone

Whispers in the Dark

The Séance at the Hollow

PROLOGUE
17 Years Earlier

FADE IN:

EXT. THE HOLLOW – NIGHT
A battered Victorian house sits under a swollen moon. Wind stirs the overgrown lawn. Silence hangs heavy.

INT. THE HOLLOW – PARLOR – NIGHT

A circle of five CHILDREN (ages 9–12) sit cross-legged on a threadbare rug. Flickering candlelight casts jittery shadows on peeling wallpaper. An antique SEANCE TABLE occupies the center.

At the head sits YOUNG PROTAGONIST (10), wide-eyed, clutching an old brass LANTERN. Beside them, MARCUS, JEN, LUIS, and LITTLE SARA (8), trembling but determined.

MARCUS
(soft, reverent)
Spirits of this house, we welcome you. Speak your name.

Jen places her hand atop Marcus’s. Luis holds a small MIRROR, angled at the table’s surface.

JEN
If you mean us harm, let it be known now.

A long beat. The only sound is the candles’ flames.

Suddenly, the air in the circle swirls—papers lift, a distant CREAK echoes. Children exchange nervous glances.

LUIS
Did you feel that?

The brass lantern flickers violently. A low HUM rises, like distant machinery.

YOUNG PROTAGONIST
(voice quavering)
Show yourself.

On the table, the candles’ flames coalesce into a PALE ORB, levitating a foot above the wood. It pulses—first slow, then rapid, like a heartbeat.

LITTLE SARA
(whispers)
It’s… beautiful.

The orb expands, filling the parlor with milky light. The children recoil.

MARCUS
(urgent)
Hold hands! Don’t let go!

They form a tighter circle, faces awash in orb-light. The orb pops with a sound like shattering glass.

CUT TO:

INT. THE HOLLOW – PARLOR – CONTINUOUS

Darkness snaps back. A SLAM of wind-rattled windows. Silence—then:

A SOFT GIGGLE from the corner.

The children whip their heads. There, half-hidden in shadow, stands a GIRL (10), in a white dress. Her face is NOT THERE—smooth, featureless.

YOUNG PROTAGONIST
(screaming)
Run!

They bolt from the circle. Chairs topple. The candle flames gutter and die. The girl’s GIGGLE echoes as they flee through the dark hallway.

EXT. THE HOLLOW – NIGHT

The five burst through the front door into the yard, gasping. Little Sara trips; the others haul her up.

JEN
We swear—never again. We never come back.

They link hands in a shaky pact under the moonlight.

YOUNG PROTAGONIST
(voice trembling)
Never return.

They turn and sprint into the trees. The Hollow’s porch light flickers once, then goes dark.

FADE OUT.

To be continued…