THE BELOW

Rain had not stopped for three days.

The single stone road leading into the village had long since disappeared beneath the swamp. Mirehollow was cut off from the rest of the world once again. But the villagers were used to that. They did not fear what came from outside. They feared what remained within.

The windows of every house were covered with thick cloth. Mirrors had been shattered years ago and buried beneath the earth. After sunset, nobody spoke above a whisper—especially not after the clocks struck 3:10. After that hour, the village surrendered itself completely to silence. When Elara was a child, she once asked why. Her mother had only replied:

“Silence keeps It asleep.”

She never explained what “It” truly was.

Elara’s father had vanished many years ago. The villagers claimed he had been chosen for The Quiet God. Offered to It. Sacrificed. But nobody had ever found a body. Now Elara lived alone with her mother, Edith. And Edith was dying. The woman’s fever had worsened for days. The veins in her hands had darkened into bruised shades of violet, and every breath sounded thinner than the last. There was not a single drop of drinkable water left in the house. Outside, the rain had finally stopped. But the silence had begun.

3:10.

Elara stared through the window. The village had drowned itself in darkness. Not a single lantern burned. Then her mother’s frail voice drifted from the bed:

“Water…”

Elara shut her eyes. Nobody drew water from the well at night. Because the well was said to see your reflection after dark. And once it saw you… a part of you remained there forever. But her mother was dying. So Elara put on her coat and stepped outside.

Mud clung to her boots with every step. The wind carried the rotting scent of swamp reeds through the empty lanes. Curtains remained tightly shut across the village, yet Elara could still feel eyes watching her from behind them.

When she reached the well, she held her breath. She made certain not to look into the water. Lowering the bucket slowly, she listened. For a long moment, there was nothing.

Then—

A sound. Something dragging softly against stone beneath the water. Elara began pulling the rope back up.

The bucket felt heavy. Far heavier than it should have. When it finally emerged, her throat tightened in horror. Long strands of black hair spilled over the rim of the bucket. Wet. Thick. As though they were still attached to someone waiting at the bottom.

Elara stumbled back in terror, but the thought of her mother forced her forward again. With trembling hands, she pulled the hair away and emptied the remaining water into a container before hurrying back home.

Edith drank every drop. That night, nothing happened. But the following morning, Edith stopped speaking. The day after that, she refused to eat. The next night, Elara found her sitting alone in the dark. She wasn’t moving. Only staring at the wall. Without blinking.

“I brought a candle, Mother,” Elara whispered.

Slowly, Edith turned her head toward her. Her face looked the same. But her eyes did not.

It felt as though something else was looking out from behind them. That night, Elara awoke to a sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Her eyes snapped open. Her mother was no longer in bed. The front door stood wide open. Then a voice came drifting from outside.

“Elara…”

It was her mother’s voice. But something about it was wrong. The words came too slowly, stretched unnaturally, as though something was learning how to imitate human speech.

“Ela…ra… I’m cold…”

Every muscle in Elara’s body turned to ice. Because her mother was standing behind her. Elara did not dare turn around. The breathing behind her did not sound human. It was wet. Deep. And impossibly close.

Elara screamed and bolted through the door into the night. The village streets were drowned in darkness. Every house remained silent. She pounded desperately against the doors.

“Please! Let me in!”

Nobody answered. But behind the curtains, she could see movement. They were listening. They knew she was there. Yet everyone in Mirehollow understood one truth:

Not everything knocking at your door after dark is human.

Elara kept running. Behind her came the sound of bare feet dragging through the mud. And the soft, sickening sound of long wet hair being pulled across the ground.

When she finally reached the swamp road, her foot slipped. She crashed into the mud, her hand plunging into a shallow pool of rainwater. Moonlight spilled across its surface.

And against her will—

Elara saw her reflection. At first, it looked normal. Then the reflection stopped moving. Elara recoiled in terror, gasping for breath. But the face in the water did not recoil with her.

Slowly—

it lifted its head. Its eyes were completely black. And its mouth stretched far wider than any human mouth ever could. The reflection was smiling at her.

Then, behind her, came It’s voice once more:

“Now It sees you.”

Elara screamed. But the village remained silent. And that night, another house in Mirehollow fell quiet forever.