Chapter 1: The Dream
Nova woke with a gasp, her heart hammering so hard it felt like it might crack her ribs. The dream clung to her, thick and oppressive, like a shadow that refused to fade. It was always the same: a house, old and decayed, its silhouette jagged against a blood-red sky. Gnarled cherry trees lined a cracked stone path, their branches twisting like skeletal fingers. The house’s windows were black voids, but they watched her, their gaze heavy with intent. It wasn’t just a dream—it was a summons, a voice whispering her name in a language she didn’t understand but felt in her bones.
She sat up in her childhood bedroom, the familiar creak of the floorboards anchoring her to reality. Moonlight spilled through the window, casting long shadows across the faded posters on her walls. Her mom’s soft snoring drifted from down the hall, and her younger brother Kari’s action figures lay scattered on the floor, their plastic eyes glinting in the dark. At 22, Nova felt like a ghost in her own life, haunting a small town that had nothing left to offer. She worked part-time at the local bookstore, restocking shelves while her dreams—of adventure, of meaning—gathered dust. But this dream, this house, was different. It was a pull, a purpose, a mystery that refused the let her go.
Nova swung her legs over the bed, her bare feet brushing the cold hardwood. She crossed to her desk, where a notebook lay open, filled with sketches of the house. She’d drawn it obsessively: the sagging rood, the crooked weathervane, the cherry trees that seemed to write on the page. Each sketch was more detailed than the last, as if the house were etching itself into her mind. She flipped to a new page and began to write, her hand trembling: It’s calling me. I don’t know why, but I need to find it. I need to know.
The dreams had started three months ago, sporadic at first, then relentless. They weren’t just images—they were sensations. The smell of damp wood and something sharper, like rust or blood. The feel of cold stone under her feet. The sound of a distant heartbeat, slow and deliberate, pulsing through the walls. She’d wake with her throat raw, as if she’d been screaming, though Kari and her mom never heard a thing. She hadn’t told them about the dreams. Her mom, a nurse who worked double shifts, would worry herself sick. Kari only twelve, would probably think it was cool until he realized how much it scared her.
Nova stood and paced, her reflection flickering in the mirror. Her dark hair was tangled, her hazel eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights. She looked haunted, and maybe she was. The house wasn’t just a place—it was a presence, alive in a way she couldn’t explain. It wanted her, and the thought both terrified and thrilled her. She’d always been curious, chasing questions no one else cared about. Why did the stars move? What was beyond the town’s borders? Now, the house was her question, and she wouldn’t res until she had answers.
She grabbed her phone and scrolled through her messages, pausing on a thread with Alessa, her best friend since fifth grade. Alessa was the only one who wouldn’t laugh or call her crazy. She typed: I need to tell you something. Meet me at the diner tomorrow? Then she hesitated, her thumb hovering over the send button. What if Alessa thought she was losing it? What if she was losing it? The house felt real, but dreams weren’t supposed to bleed into reality. She hit send anyway, her pulse racing.
Nova climbed back into bed, pulling the covers tight. She closed her eyes, willing sleep to come, but the house was waiting. It always was. the dream began as it always did: the cherry trees, the path, the house looming like a predator. But this time, something was different. The front door was open, a yawning black maw. A voice, low and guttural, slithered from within: Come home, Nova. She woke screaming, her hands clawing at the sheets.
Morning came slowly, gray light seeping through the curtains. Nova dressed in a haze, pulling on jeans and a faded hoodie. She avoided her mom’s questions about her tired eyes, mumbling something about staying up to read. Kari, eating cereal at the kitchen table, smirked. “You look like a zombie. Did you see a ghost or something?”
“Shut up,” Nova said, ruffling his hair. But her stomach twisted. Ghosts were stories. The house was real.
At the diner, Alessa was already waiting, her wild curls spilling over a leather jacket. She grinned as Nova slid into the booth, but her smile faded when she saw Nova’s face. “Okay, spill. You look like you haven’t slept in a year.”
Nova took a deep breath and told her everything: the dreams, the house, the voice. Alessa listened, her coffee growing cold, her expression shifting from skepticism to intrigue. When Nova finished, Alessa leaned back, whistling softly. “That’s... intense. So, what, you think this house is real?”
“I know it is,” Nova said, her voice fierce. “I’ve been searching online—property records, old listings, anything. Last night, I found it.”
Alessa’s eyes widened. “Found it? Like, an actual house?”
Nova pulled out her phone and showed her the listing. The photo was grainy, but unmistakable: the cherry trees, the cracked path, the house with its dark windows. The ad was strange. offering a “live-in caretaker position” with no rent or salary, just a cryptic note: Must reside in the house. Duties to be explained upon arrival.
“That’s super sketchy,” Alessa said, but her grin was back. “You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?”
Nova nodded, her fear outweighed by her need to know. “Will you come with me?”
Alessa laughed. “A creepy dream house with a side of mystery? Hell yeah, I’m in.”
They spent the rest of the day planning. Nova told her mom it was a job opportunity, leaving out the dreams. Her mom hugged her tightly, her eyes wet with worry. Kari just rolled his eyes and said, “Don’t get eaten by monsters.” Nova forced a smile, but his words lingered. She packed a bag, her sketches, and her courage, ready to chase the house that haunted her.
