Nightmares Unbound: The Price of Silence and the Faceless Collector (Unabridged‪)‬

The old house stood sentinel on the crest of Widow's Hill, a skeletal silhouette against the perpetually bruised twilight sky. Locals whispered its history in hushed tones, tales of madness and despair clinging to its weathered timbers like grave moss. They said darkness resided there, a malevolent presence that had consumed generations of the Blackwood family, leaving behind only echoes of shattered lives and unanswered screams. 

I, a writer seeking inspiration in the macabre, ignored their warnings. The allure of the unknown, the irresistible siren song of a haunted place, drew me in. I told myself I was immune to superstition, that I sought only a compelling story. But deep down, a flicker of something else stirred a morbid curiosity, a desire to confront the very essence of fear. The realtor, a nervous man with darting eyes, handed me the keys with trembling fingers.