The House at Blackwood Hill – Part 4 (Daw)
Daw didn't scream when he fell.
There was no wind rushing past him. No crash. No impact.
Just falling.
And then—
He was standing.
The flashlight was back in his hand, glowing faintly.
But he wasn't in the upstairs room anymore.
He was outside.
At the bottom of Blackwood Hill.
The house stood at the top, dark against a gray sky. The trees were thinner here. Younger. The path was clearer.
It looked… newer.
Daw turned slowly.
No cars. No modern houses in the distance. No phone signal bars on his screen.
His phone wasn't even in his pocket.
From somewhere up the hill came the sound of laughter.
Children's laughter.
Slow. Warped. Echoing.
A small figure stood halfway up the path.
A boy.
About Daw's age.
Wearing old-fashioned clothes—suspenders, scuffed boots.
And he was staring directly at him.
Daw stepped back.
The boy lifted his hand and pointed—not at Daw.
At the house.
Then the boy spoke.
"You're almost done."
The words didn't match the boy's mouth. They echoed like they came from somewhere else.
"Done with what?" Daw called.
The boy tilted his head slightly.
"You started it."
Cold realization crept into Daw's chest.
"I've never been here before."
The boy smiled.
"Yes, you have."
The sky flickered.
Just for a second.
Like a glitch.
For a flash, Daw saw the house burning.
Windows black with smoke.
Figures at the windows.
Hands pressed against the glass.
Then the image snapped back to normal.
The boy was closer now.
Much closer.
Daw hadn't seen him move.
"You left," the boy said softly. "You promised you wouldn't."
Daw's mind raced. "I don't even know you."
The boy's smile slowly faded.
"You will."
The ground beneath Daw trembled slightly.
From inside the house came that same whispering voice—
But now there were many of them.
All overlapping.
"Stay."
"Finish."
"Remember."
The front door of the house creaked open at the top of the hill.
Slowly.
Inviting him.
The boy stepped aside, clearing the path.
"If you don't go back," he said quietly, "it starts again."
The sky flickered once more—
And this time Daw saw himself.
Standing at the upstairs window.
Watching.
Daw wasn't outside the house.
He had never left.
He was inside.
And something else was outside.
Walking up the hill.