---

The following day, David found himself dialing Harold’s number, his fingers trembling slightly as he pressed the phone to his ear. The line rang a few times before Harold picked up, his voice sounding tired and a little confused.

“Harold, it’s David,” he began, his voice steady despite the knot of anxiety in his stomach. “I wanted to check on you, see how you’re doing after...after yesterday.”

Harold was silent for a moment before he replied, his voice filled with a mix of confusion and relief. “I’m not sure what happened, David,” he admitted. “One moment I was in the crawlspace, the next I was covered in welts and running for my life. But the strange thing is, the welts...they disappeared later that night. All of them.”

David felt a chill run down his spine at Harold’s words. The house was not just haunted, it was capable of creating illusions so real they could cause physical harm. And then erase all evidence of it.

“David,” Harold’s voice was filled with a sincere apology, “I’m truly sorry for what transpired. I’ve been in this line of work for a considerable amount of time, and I’ve never encountered anything quite like this. However, I believe there might be a solution.”

He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts before continuing, “My son, he’s been learning the trade under my guidance for a few years now. He has access to a piece of technology, a hyperspectral camera, that can perceive variations in the soil that are invisible to the naked eye. It’s possible that this could aid us in uncovering what we’re searching for.”

David listened, his heart rate slowing as a glimmer of hope sparked within him. He agreed to Harold’s proposition, a sense of relief washing over him. They arranged for an appointment on Saturday afternoon, providing Harold’s son with a few days to prepare for his visit to the house.

As he ended the call, David found himself unable to shake off the lingering sense of dread.

---

In the oppressive heat of a Saturday afternoon, the house seemed to brood under the weight of its spectral inhabitants. The arrival of Ethan, Harold’s son, was punctual, his truck laden with the tools of his trade. He was a mirror image of his father, the same winter-sky eyes and an air of professionalism that belied his youth.

Ethan’s greeting was firm, his grip strong, a silent promise of his intent to unravel the mystery of the house. “Father told me of the incident,” he said, his voice steady as a rock amidst a turbulent sea. “I regret the ordeal you had to endure. But rest assured, we will uncover the truth.”

David nodded, his gaze meeting Ethan’s. “How is your father?” he asked, concern threading his words.

Ethan sighed, a hand ruffling his hair. “He’s... rattled,” he confessed. “He’s been in this business for a long time, and he’s never encountered anything like that. The welts... they vanished later that night. All of them. He’s bewildered, frightened even. But he’s recuperating.”

David nodded, relief washing over him. “I’m glad he’s alright,” he said, sincerity lacing his voice. “This... this house, it’s... it’s not ordinary.”

Ethan gave a wry smile. “I gathered as much,” he said, his gaze drifting towards the crawlspace. “But don’t worry, we’ll figure this out.”

With that, Ethan set up his equipment, his hands moving with practiced ease over the hyperspectral camera and tripod. He adjusted the settings, his eyes focused on the small screen as he prepared to enter the crawlspace.

David watched from a distance, his heart pounding in his chest as Ethan crouched down to enter the crawlspace. The door creaked open, revealing the dark abyss that had become a source of terror and confusion. Ethan disappeared into the darkness, his flashlight cutting through the gloom as he began his inspection.

Ethan’s journey through the crawlspace was a slow, methodical process. The space was cramped and filled with the scent of damp earth and old wood, a smell that was both comforting and disconcerting. The only light came from the beam of his flashlight, casting long shadows that danced and flickered on the dirt walls. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the soft crunch of his boots on the packed earth and the occasional drip of water from somewhere deep within the house.

As he moved deeper into the crawlspace, Ethan’s mind began to race. He knew the history of the house, knew about the murders that had taken place within its walls. He knew there were rumors that the bodies of the victims were buried somewhere in this very crawlspace. The thought sent a chill down his spine, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand.

His hyperspectral camera was a marvel of modern technology, capable of detecting variations in the soil that the human eye couldn’t see. As he moved through the crawlspace, he kept the camera trained on the ground, watching the small screen for any signs of disturbance. But the soil was undisturbed, the camera revealing nothing out of the ordinary.

---

Ethan’s heart pounded in his chest as he moved deeper into the crawlspace. The air grew colder, the silence more profound. He could feel the weight of the house above him, a constant reminder of the horrors that had taken place within its walls. But he pushed on, determined to uncover the truth.

Suddenly, his camera picked up something. A patch of soil that was different from the rest. His heart skipped a beat as he moved closer, his flashlight beam illuminating the spot. He knelt down, his gloved hand brushing away the loose dirt. His breath caught in his throat as he realized what he was seeing.

“Graves,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “So many graves...”

His words echoed in the silence of the crawlspace, a chilling testament to the horrors that had taken place in the house. He could barely comprehend the magnitude of what he had discovered. A mass grave, hidden beneath the house. The final resting place of the victims of a brutal murderer.

Ethan’s mind raced as he tried to process what he was seeing. The victims, their bodies discarded like trash, buried in the crawlspace of the house where they had been murdered. The thought was too much to bear. He felt a wave of nausea wash over him, but he pushed it aside, forcing himself to focus.

He needed to document this, to gather evidence. He reached for his camera, his hands shaking as he began to capture images of the graves. His heart pounded in his chest as he worked, the reality of what he had discovered sinking in.

Suddenly, his voice echoed from the crawlspace, filled with a mix of surprise and horror. “David... I think I’ve found something.”

David moved closer, his heart pounding in his chest. “What is it, Ethan?” he called out, his voice echoing in the silence.

“There are... there are graves,” Ethan’s voice trembled slightly. “So many graves...”

David felt a chill run down his spine at Ethan’s words. He moved towards the crawlspace, his heart pounding in his chest. “How many?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

“I... I can’t count,” Ethan’s voice was filled with fear. “There are too many. It’s like... like a mass grave.”

Before David could even formulate a response, the crawlspace door, as if moved by an unseen force, slammed shut with a thunderous bang that reverberated through the house, causing it to shudder ominously. He lunged forward, his hand reaching out to grasp the handle, but it was as if the door had melded with the frame, refusing to yield to his desperate attempts. The only sound that pierced the sudden, eerie silence was the terrified screams of Ethan, echoing from within the sealed crawlspace.

Inside the claustrophobic confines of the crawlspace, a scene of unimaginable horror was unfolding. Ethan’s flashlight, his only source of illumination, flickered erratically, casting grotesque shadows on the dirt walls that seemed to dance and writhe in the dim light. The screen of his hyperspectral camera, previously displaying the mundane hues of the soil, now glowed with an unnatural, spectral light, revealing a sight that made his blood run cold. Figures were rising from the graves, not solid, but phantasmal, their forms shimmering and translucent in the dim light, their faces twisted in expressions of eternal torment.

Ethan found himself rooted to the spot, a statue of terror as the spectral figures moved towards him. Their hands, ethereal and cold, reached out for him, passing through the fabric of his clothes and making contact with his skin. The touch was colder than ice, a chill that seemed to seep into his very bones and freeze his blood. He opened his mouth to scream, to voice his terror, but the sound was swallowed by the oppressive darkness that surrounded him, leaving him in a silence that was only broken by the pounding of his own heart.

The spectral figures closed in on him, their forms merging with his own. He could feel them inside him, their cold, ethereal presence filling him, their despair and torment becoming his own. His body convulsed as the phantasms took hold of him, their spectral forms twisting and writhing inside him, an alien presence that sent waves of icy cold through his veins.

His screams, when they finally tore themselves from his throat, echoed through the crawlspace, a chilling soundtrack to the horrifying scene. His body jerked violently, his limbs flailing as if trying to physically remove the phantasms that were tearing him apart from the inside. His eyes rolled back in his head, his body going limp as the life was slowly, painfully drained from him.

Outside, David could only listen in abject horror as Ethan’s screams faded, replaced by an eerie silence that seemed to swallow the house. He pounded on the crawlspace door, his fists leaving bloody smears on the wood. But the door remained shut, the house holding its breath as it claimed another victim. As the silence settled, David fell to his knees, his body shaking with fear and grief.

As the silence settled, David heard the sound of frantic footsteps. Lena, her face flushed and her eyes wide with alarm, emerged from around the corner of his house. She had been inside her home when David’s screams had pierced the air, a chilling sound that had sent a jolt of fear through her.

“David! What... what happened?” she gasped, her gaze darting between David’s pale face and the ominously closed crawlspace door.

David looked up at her, his face a mask of shock and grief. “It’s... it’s...” he stammered, his voice a whisper. He gestured helplessly towards the crawlspace door, his hand shaking.

Lena followed his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest as she took in the sight of the closed door. “Who’s in there?” she asked, her voice trembling. “David, who’s in there?”

David swallowed hard, his voice a whisper as he uttered a name, “Ethan.” Lena’s brows furrowed in confusion, the name unfamiliar to her.

“Ethan,” David repeated, his voice gaining a bit more strength. “He’s Harold’s son. He came today to inspect the crawlspace with a special camera.”

David’s gaze dropped to his hands, clenched tightly in his lap. “He... he found something. Graves, he said. Then the door... it just slammed shut. I couldn’t open it. And then... then I heard him screaming.”

David’s voice trailed off, his gaze distant as he relived the horrifying scene.

Lena felt a chill run down her spine at his words. She moved towards the door, her hands shaking as she reached for the handle. But it wouldn’t budge. It was as if the house itself was keeping them out.

David’s mind was racing. He needed to call for help, to get Ethan out of there. He reached for his phone, his fingers trembling as he dialed 911. But Lena’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“Wait,” she said, her voice filled with a desperation that David had never heard before. “Wait, David.”

But David was beyond waiting. He shook off her hand, his gaze meeting hers. “I can’t wait, Lena,” he said, his voice filled with determination. “I have to call for help.”

But as he looked into Lena’s eyes, he saw a fear that mirrored his own. And in that moment, he knew that whatever was happening, whatever was unfolding in his house, was far from over.

David’s fingers trembled as he pressed the phone to his ear. The dial tone echoed in his ear, a steady rhythm that did nothing to calm his racing heart. After what felt like an eternity, the line clicked and a calm, professional voice answered.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

David took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice. “There’s a man trapped in my house,” he said, his words coming out in a rush. “He’s in the crawlspace. The door... it won’t open.”

The operator’s voice was steady, a rock in the storm that was raging around David. “Okay, sir, I need you to stay calm. Can you tell me your address?”

David rattled off his address, his gaze never leaving the closed crawlspace door. “Please, you need to hurry,” he said, his voice shaking. “He’s... he’s trapped in there.”

“We’re dispatching units to your location now, sir,” the operator said. “Stay on the line with me. Is there anyone else in the house with you?”

David glanced at Lena, her face pale and her eyes wide with fear. “No,” he said, his voice a whisper. “It’s just me.”

The operator was saying something else, her voice a steady stream of reassurances and instructions. But David barely heard her. All he could hear was the silence that had swallowed the house, a silence that was far too heavy, far too ominous.