02 Feb Mr. Holloway Won’t Stop Digging

Part I

The first time David saw Mr. Holloway, the old man was standing at the edge of his porch, watching them unload the moving truck. He was tall and thin, his back slightly hunched, with an appearance that suggested both frailty and endurance—like an old tree that had spent decades weathering storms but still clung stubbornly to the ground. His face was lined but smooth, in a way that made his age impossible to guess. His clothes—neatly pressed slacks and a buttoned-up sweater, despite the summer heat—gave him an air of quiet eccentricity.

David nudged Lisa as they carried a box toward the house, their dog Max zipping back and forth enthusiastically, exploring the new property.

“Our neighbor’s staring at us,” David said.

Lisa glanced at Holloway, offering a polite wave. He lifted one hand in return.

“Friendly enough,” she said.

David wasn’t so sure.

Their house was an older one, built sometime in the 1950s, with narrow hallways and hardwood floors that creaked constantly. It had been on the market for nearly a year before they bought it, which David had initially seen as a red flag, but the price was unbeatable. Lisa had fallen in love with the sunroom, and David had to admit the place had a certain charm—though, even before they finished moving in, he found himself unsettled by how quiet the neighborhood was.

There were no kids playing outside and no traffic noises beyond the occasional car rolling past. It was peaceful, but in a way that felt unnatural, like a pause in conversation that lasted too long.

Holloway didn’t approach them until early evening, after most of the heavy lifting was done. David was wiping sweat from his forehead when he heard footsteps on the driveway and turned to see the old man standing there, hands folded behind his back.

“Welcome,” Holloway said. His voice was soft, the kind that forced you to listen closely. “I imagine you’ll be here a long while.”

Lisa smiled. “That’s the plan.”

David forced a chuckle. “Well, unless we find out the place is haunted.”

Holloway tilted his head. “No ghosts. But a house can remember things.”

David wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but Lisa, ever the diplomat, simply nodded. “That’s an interesting way of looking at it.”

Holloway studied them for a moment longer, and then took a step back, gesturing toward his home. “If you ever need anything, I’m just next door.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his steps unexpectedly light for someone his age.

Lisa waited until he was inside before whispering, “Okay, that was weird, right?”

David exhaled. “A little. But hey, at least he didn’t start ranting about property lines or make us join some neighborhood watch cult. Could be worse.”

Lisa grinned. “Famous last words.”

That night, they celebrated their first evening in the house with takeout and a bottle of wine, settling into the living room amid stacks of unopened boxes. The excitement of a fresh start dulled the strange impression Holloway had left on them, and by the time they went to bed, David barely gave the old man another thought.

Until something woke him.

It was subtle at first—a faint, rhythmic sound filtering through the open bedroom window.

Shff. Shff. Shff.

David lay still, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. The sound was methodical, repetitive. He turned his head toward Lisa, but she was fast asleep.

He slid out of bed and moved to the window, peering through the blinds. The street was empty, the neighborhood bathed in the dim glow of a distant streetlamp. But then he noticed movement in Holloway’s yard.

The old man was standing near the center of his lawn, hunched over, his hands gripping the handle of a shovel. He drove the blade into the earth, withdrew it, then plunged it in again, the motion effortless and practiced.

David frowned. It wasn’t the fact that Holloway was digging a hole in the middle of the night that disturbed him—though that was plenty strange. It was how he was doing it.

There was no pile of dirt accumulating beside him, and no excess soil being tossed aside. It was as if the ground was swallowing the blade whole.

Shff. Shff. Shff.

David stood there for a long time, watching the hole deepen.

Holloway didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. He worked tirelessly with the same steady rhythm, as though he had been doing this for hours, for days, for years.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, David let the blinds fall shut and turned back toward the bed, telling himself he was imagining things. That it was nothing to worry about—even as the sound of shoveling continued, long into the night.

Part II

David woke the next morning with the memory of Holloway digging fresh in his mind. The rhythmic scrape of the shovel, the way the earth seemed to swallow the dirt without displacing it—it troubled him. He pulled on a t-shirt and stepped outside before Lisa was even awake, crossing onto the sidewalk where he could get a clearer view of his neighbor’s yard.

The hole was still there.

It was about three feet wide and seemingly bottomless. There was no mound of dirt beside it, and there were no signs of recent disturbance except for the dark, gaping void in the grass. David stepped closer.

It was perfectly round. The edges looked smooth, almost sculpted rather than dug. Too precise. He crouched, peering into the darkness.

A cold draft rose from the hole, carrying with it a faint, earthy smell, like moistened stone. The kind of scent he associated with caves or tunnels.

Something about it felt wrong.

David exhaled sharply and forced himself to stand. He was being ridiculous. The guy was just a weirdo with a strange hobby. That was all.

Right?

Lisa’s voice startled him. “David, what are you doing?”

He turned to find her standing in the driveway, arms crossed. She was still in her pajamas, barefoot on the pavement.

David scratched the back of his head. “Holloway was digging this last night.”

Lisa frowned. “Why?”

“No idea. But look at it—it’s too… neat.”

She stepped up beside him, peering down. Her expression twisted. “Yeah, that’s weird. Why’s there no dirt?”

David shook his head. “No clue.”

Lisa shivered. “It’s creeping me out.”

“Me too,” David admitted.

They both stood there, staring into the abyss, neither of them wanting to say what they were thinking.

What if there was something down there?

Holloway’s front door creaked open, making both of them flinch.

He stepped onto his porch—dressed in the same neatly pressed slacks and buttoned sweater, despite the growing heat of the morning—and smiled politely at them, then glanced at the hole.

“I see you’ve noticed my work.”

David forced a chuckle. “Yeah, uh… just curious. What exactly are you digging for?”

Holloway tilted his head, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “Some things need space.”

Lisa cleared her throat. “Space for what?”

Holloway’s gaze flicked to her, and for a second—just a second—David swore something shifted in his expression. Like he was about to say something important.

Then he blinked, and the moment passed. “Oh, you know. Things come and go.”

Lisa exhaled sharply. “That’s not really an answer.”

Holloway gave a small shrug. “It’s the only one I have.”

David felt Lisa tense beside him. He was about to make some excuse to leave when Holloway suddenly clapped his hands together, too loud for the quiet morning air. “Well!” he exclaimed. “Best not to worry about it!”

Lisa muttered under her breath, turning away.

David forced a tight-lipped smile. “Right. Well—have a good one, Holloway.”

The old man gave an oddly theatrical bow before retreating into his house, the door shutting with a soft but decisive click.

Lisa grabbed David’s wrist and whispered, “I hate him.”

David let out a short breath. “Yeah.”

“Like, irrationally,” she continued. “He’s just a weird old guy, but something about him—”

“—is off,” David finished.

Lisa nodded, arms wrapped around herself.

“Forget it,” she said, exhaling sharply. “I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

David agreed. But he couldn’t forget.

That night, David woke again.

Shff. Shff. Shff.

The same sound. The rhythmic scrape of the shovel.

His stomach twisted. He turned his head, staring at the ceiling. Ignore it, he thought to himself. Let it go.

But then he heard something new. A soft, distant whisper. Not words. Not anything recognizable—just a voice, drifting up from the earth.

David’s blood went cold.

The bedroom window was open a crack, a sliver of warm summer air slipping through. Beyond it, the sound of digging continued. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, moving as quietly as possible.

Lisa stirred beside him. “Dave?”

His throat was dry. “I—” He hesitated. How could he explain this?

“Go back to sleep,” he whispered.

Lisa muttered sleepily and rolled over.

David crept to the window, pressing his fingers to the blinds. Slowly, carefully, he tilted them open.

Holloway was not alone. There were… shapes in the yard with him. Dark, indistinct figures standing in a half-circle around the hole. They weren’t moving. Weren’t helping. Just watching.

And Holloway? He wasn’t digging anymore. He was kneeling, with his head tilted forward, his hands resting on his thighs in a prayer-like position.

David’s blinked rapidly, trying to focus. Were those other people?

Or…

The whisper came again.

A breath against the air. From the hole.

David let the blinds snap shut. He backed away, his skin crawling.

Lisa mumbled sleepily. “Everything okay?”

David swallowed hard. “Yeah,” he lied.

Lisa drifted back into unconsciousness.

David laid down, staring at the ceiling, his skin cold despite the summer heat.

In the silence, the whisper came one last time—closer now—whispering his name.

Part III

David awoke to the sound of Lisa outside, calling for their dog.

“Max!” she shouted. “It’s time for breakfast! Come here, boy!”

He sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes. The morning sunlight streamed through the blinds, too bright for how exhausted he felt. The whispering from the night before clung to his memory, unsettling and half-forgotten, but his thoughts were quickly yanked back to reality by Lisa’s voice, sharp with frustration.

“Max! Come on, boy!” she called. “Max, where are you?”

David swung his legs over the bed, standing too quickly. The dizziness hit first, then the spike of unease. He moved toward the hallway, following the sound of Lisa’s voice as she called from the backyard.

Lisa stood barefoot on the porch, arms crossed, scanning the fenced-in yard. She turned as David stepped outside.

“He’s gone,” she said.

David frowned. “What do you mean, gone?”

“I mean, I woke up, opened the back door to let him out, and he never came back in.”

David looked around. The yard was enclosed on all sides by a tall wooden fence. No gaps. No broken boards. Just the thick grass, the patio furniture, and—

David’s stomach clenched.

There was another hole. In their yard. A hole he had never noticed before.

Had it always been there? David wondered. He couldn’t be sure.

It was near the tree line, just a little smaller than the ones in Holloway’s yard. The same perfect, unnatural smoothness. The same eerie absence of displaced dirt.

Lisa followed his gaze, and her expression darkened. “You don’t think—” She exhaled sharply. “No. That’s crazy. A dog wouldn’t just… go into a hole like that.”

David didn’t answer. He was already moving toward it.

Up close, the hole looked too deep for Max to have simply fallen in. A normal hole would have loose earth around the edges, offering some indication of depth. But this one was just there, as though the ground had been scooped away by something impossibly precise.

Lisa stood behind him. “Max!” she called, her voice breaking slightly.

David crouched, peering into the darkness, and saw nothing. No movement. No sound. Just the same stale, earthy smell that had come from Holloway’s holes.

David grabbed a small rock, dropped it in, and counted.

One second. Two. Three.

No sound.

David’s skin prickled. That didn’t make sense.

Lisa’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m knocking on his door.”

David stood. “Lisa—”

“I don’t care!” she snapped. “I don’t care how weird he is, I don’t care if he has an excuse, and I don’t care about playing nice with the creepy old neighbor—our dog is missing!”

She stormed across the lawn before he could stop her. David followed, a quiet dread curling in his stomach.

Holloway answered on the third knock. He opened the door just enough to be seen, his face lined with something David couldn’t quite place. Irritation, perhaps? Or was it amusement?

“Ah!” he said, as though he’d been expecting them. “David. Lisa. How nice to see you.”

Lisa didn’t waste time. “Our dog is missing.”

Holloway tilted his head. “That’s unfortunate.”

David studied his expression, searching for some sign of deception, but Holloway simply blinked at them, his face unreadable.

Lisa glared. “You were outside last night. Digging. Again.”

Holloway’s lips curled into something akin to a smile. “I was,” he admitted.

“Did you see anything?” Lisa asked. “Hear anything?”

Holloway’s gaze drifted toward their yard. Toward the hole.

“Some things,” he said softly, “are meant to go missing.”

Lisa took a sharp step forward. David caught her arm, stopping her.

Holloway smiled again, a little too widely. “It’s best not to linger on such things,” he said. Then, without another word, he shut the door.

Lisa let out a sharp breath. “He took him.”

David replied, “We don’t know that for sure.”

“Then where is he, David?” she barked. “Where’s our dog?”

David had no answer.

* * * * * *

They spent the next several hours searching.

Lisa put up flyers. David walked the streets, calling Max’s name, peering into alleyways, searching for any sign of the golden retriever—all of it in vain.

By the afternoon, Lisa had exhausted herself. She sat on the couch, staring at the coffee table, her fingers gripping her phone in case someone called.

David watched her from the kitchen, feeling helpless. He wanted to say something comforting or hopeful, but the hole on the outskirts of their yard loomed in the back of his mind.

When he went outside that evening, Holloway was standing on his own porch, observing him, his hands folded behind his back.

David felt his pulse in his throat. He knows something, he thought. I know it.

Holloway didn’t say a word—he just stood there, smiling.

David turned and went back inside.

That night, Lisa fell into an exhausted sleep.

David didn’t. He sat on the edge of the bed, his thoughts tangled. Max was gone. There was no rational explanation for how he could have disappeared. There was no way out of the yard. No hole under the fence. No tracks.

There was nothing out of place whatsoever—except for the hole he could swear hadn’t been there before.

David clenched his jaw. He had to know.

Quietly, carefully, he got out of bed, grabbed a flashlight, and stepped outside, barefoot, and strode across the yard, the cool grass brushing against his toes. The air was still. Too still.

There, on the border between theirs and Holloway’s properties, the hole awaited him.

He flicked on the flashlight, aiming it straight down. The beam barely penetrated the darkness. The hole seemed to swallow the light.

David’s throat tightened. He took a breath and crouched, reaching his hand toward the edge, when he heard it. A sound—faint and soft—carried, nearly imperceptibly, on the breeze.

It wasn’t the wind, and it sounded nothing like an animal. No, it was something… whimpering. David’s stomach dropped.

“Max?” he whispered. He leaned in, listening.

The whimper came again. But it sounded… wrong. It was too distant, too deep, as if it was coming not from the hole itself but from somewhere far below.

David’s fingers tightened around the flashlight. He could still hear it. A weak, indistinct sound. A chill ran up his spine.

He forced himself to his feet and backed away, then turned toward Holloway’s house.

The porch light was on. And Holloway? He was watching—standing perfectly still in the doorway. Smiling.

David went inside and locked the door. But he could still hear it, somewhere deep at the bottom of the hole.

Calling his name.

Part IV

David barely slept.

Every time he closed his eyes, he heard the whimpering—faint, distant, and impossibly deep. The sound of Max, but not Max. It couldn’t be.

The worst part was knowing Holloway had been watching, expecting something.

By morning, David had made up his mind—they needed proof.

Lisa was hesitant at first.

“You want to go inside his house?” she asked.

David nodded. “Yeah. Just for a minute. Just to… see.”

Lisa’s eyes darkened. “See what?”

“I don’t know,” David admitted. “But I have to. He knows something, Lisa. Maybe he even—” He hesitated, unwilling at first to say it. “Maybe he even took Max.”

Lisa exhaled through her nose. “This is a bad idea.”

David knew she was right. But he also knew that the unease wouldn’t go away until he got answers.

Lisa studied him for a moment before finally shaking her head. “Fine. Just be careful.”

* * * * * *

It was almost too easy to get inside.

David caught Holloway in his front yard, watering his flowers as if he hadn’t just spent the last few nights digging bottomless holes in the ground.

David forced himself to keep his tone casual. “Hey, Holloway.”

The old man turned, blinking at him, his expression unreadable.

“Would you mind if I borrowed a tool?” David asked, doing his best to conceal his apprehension. “My screwdriver set’s still packed up, and I need to tighten some hinges.”

Holloway smiled. “Of course. Come on in.”

No hesitation. No suspicion. Like he had been waiting for this.

David stepped inside. He immediately noticed the house smelled like dirt. Not old-house mustiness, or the scent of unclean floors or dust, but fresh, damp earth—like something buried.

David kept his expression neutral as Holloway led him into the nearby study. It was lined with bookshelves, filled with things that weren’t books.

Jars. They were lined with jars—hundreds of them, all arranged neatly, meticulously, with no dust on any of them.

David took a slow step closer.

Each jar held something different. A small collection of teeth. Coins that didn’t look like anything David had ever seen. A lock of hair, still braided, like it had been cut straight from someone’s scalp.

Other jars held things that moved—little, twitching bits of something.

David forced himself to look away, scanning the room.

Then he saw the mannequin.

It stood in the corner, facing the wall. Life-sized. Wooden. Dressed in an old-fashioned suit. Something about it made David’s stomach twist.

It wasn’t just a mannequin. It looked… used. The fabric of the suit was worn at the elbows and the knees. Like someone had lived in it.

A moment later, Holloway returned with the screwdriver set. “Here you are.”

David took it, forcing a smile. “Thanks.”

His eyes flicked back to the mannequin. Holloway followed his gaze.

“Ah,” he said. David tensed.

Holloway’s voice was warm. Almost affectionate. “He came back,” the old man murmured. “Not everyone does.”

David wanted to leave, wanted to run.

Holloway stepped forward. “Would you like some tea?”

David’s stomach lurched, and he swallowed hard. “I—I should get back. Lisa’s waiting.”

Holloway nodded, smiling. “Of course.”

David turned and left without another word. He didn’t realize, until he was back in his own house, that he had been holding his breath the entire time.

Lisa saw his face and went still. “What happened?”

David opened his mouth, but no words came. His hands trembled.

Lisa touched his arm. “David.”

David took a seat at the kitchen table and began tapping his foot nervously. “There’s something wrong with him,” he said quietly.

Lisa’s expression darkened. “We knew that already.”

David shook his head. “No. I mean—really wrong.”

Lisa’s fingers tightened on his arm. “What did you see?”

David exhaled shakily. “Something that shouldn’t be there.”

Part V

David didn’t sleep that night. Neither did Lisa. They sat at the kitchen table, speaking in hushed tones, both of them unwilling to say what they were really thinking.

Max was gone. Holloway knew something. And there was something in his house that wasn’t supposed to be there.

David told Lisa about the jars and the mannequin, about the way Holloway spoke about it, like it was something that had… returned.

Lisa’s hands curled into fists. “We need to go back.”

David hesitated. “Lisa—”

She looked up, her eyes fierce. “No! No more waiting, no more trying to be polite! He knows something, David. Max could still be alive.”

David wanted to believe that. But deep down, he wasn’t sure if what had been calling from the hole was really Max anymore.

Lisa stood. “We go now.”

David didn’t argue.

* * * * * *

The night was eerily quiet as they crossed the lawn.

Holloway’s house sat in perfect stillness. The porch light was off. There was no glow from the windows, and no sound of movement inside.

David tested the doorknob, and found it unlocked. Lisa exhaled sharply, and David pushed the door open.

The scent of earth was stronger this time.

They moved quickly, their footsteps muffled by the thick carpeting. The jars in the study seemed to surveil them as they passed.

Lisa nudged David’s arm, pointing toward a narrow door at the end of the hallway. A basement door.

David hesitated. He didn’t want to go down there—but Lisa was already moving.

The door creaked as she pulled it open. A heavy, damp smell rolled up from below.

David flicked on his flashlight. The stairs stretched downward into darkness.

Lisa swallowed hard and stepped forward. David followed.

The basement was… wrong. The walls weren’t cement—they were dirt. The entire basement was nothing but a chamber carved from earth, held together by roots and stone, and the air in it was heavy, wet, and frigid. Absolutely frigid.

And at the center of it all—was the mound.

David’s stomach flipped.

It was massive—a pulsing, throbbing, flesh-colored thing embedded into the earth. Even as he watched, its surface bulged and twitched.

Lisa took a step closer, and David caught her wrist. “Don’t.”

She ignored him.

The mound shuddered, a deep, guttural groan rising from beneath it. Something was inside.

Suddenly, Lisa gasped, and David followed her gaze. He felt the air leave his lungs.

Max’s collar.

It sat at the base of the mound, half-buried in the dirt.

Lisa lunged for it. The moment her fingers touched the leather—the mound moved. A rippling spasm, like something shifting beneath its surface. A low whisper curled through the air.

David grabbed Lisa and yanked her back.

The mound bulged outward, a shape pressed against it from the inside. A hand.

David dragged Lisa toward the stairs. As he led her toward the exit, the whispering grew louder—not one voice, but many.

They bolted for the top step. David reached for the door—

And the basement door slammed shut.

Part VI

David slammed his shoulder into the basement door. It didn’t budge.

Lisa pounded against it with both fists. “Open it! Open the damn door!”

From behind them, the mound shuddered. David refused to turn around. His fingers scrambled for the doorknob, twisting it violently. It should have opened—it wasn’t locked. But something was holding it shut.

Lisa let out a short, panicked sob. “David—”

A groan filled the basement. Not from the house or the walls, but from beneath them.

David turned. The mound bulged outward, stretching unnaturally. The thing inside—whatever it was—was trying to push its way through.

Lisa choked back a cry. The mound wasn’t flesh. It wasn’t organic. It was a door. And something on the other side was knocking.

A breath of movement at the top of the stairs caught David’s attention, and his head snapped up.

Holloway stood in the doorway. He looked down at them with mild amusement, his bony hands resting on either side of the doorframe.

“Ah,” he said, as if they had merely walked into the wrong room. “Curiosity always wins in the end.”

David lunged for him.

Holloway took a single step backward and raised a hand. The mound twitched.

David’s stomach flipped. He felt it—something moving beneath his feet. Not earth nor wood, but something alive.

Lisa grabbed his arm. “What the hell is this?!”

Holloway smiled, stepping fully into view.

“It’s the space between,” he said simply.

The whispering in the basement rose.

“What did you do to Max?!” David demanded.

Holloway’s head tilted. “Nothing.” He paused a moment. “But the hole found him.”

“What does that mean?” Lisa replied.

Holloway’s smile widened. “Some things slip through.”

The mound lurched. A noise split the air—a wet, tearing sound.

Lisa screamed. David grabbed her wrist and yanked her up the stairs.

The door was open. Not by force or by luck—Holloway had let them go.

The last thing David saw as they ran into the night was the gruesome sight of the mound splitting open—

And of something stepping through.

Part VII

David and Lisa didn’t speak as they ran, nor did they stop, turn back, or check to see if Holloway was following. They didn’t have to. Whatever had stepped through that mound slipped into their world was behind them now.

They reached their house, stumbling inside. Lisa slammed the door shut, throwing the deadbolt. David braced his hands against the wall, struggling to breathe and, for a long moment, the house was still.

Lisa was the first to speak. “We need to leave.”

David nodded. “Yeah.”

She was already moving. “Now.”

David grabbed his keys from the counter, his hands shaking. His gaze drifted to the backyard.

He froze.

Another hole.

It hadn’t been there before—he was certain of that. Not this big. Not this wide and deep.

Lisa followed his gaze and then covered her mouth. “No,” she said. “That’s not possible. How? How is this happening?”

David barely heard her over the din of rising whispers. Not from Holloway’s property or from across the street, but from their own yard.

Lisa grabbed his wrist. “David, we’re leaving!”

But David couldn’t move. The whispering was familiar now.

They weren’t just voices. They were names. Their names.

David took a step forward. Lisa’s grip tightened. “Don’t!”

He ignored her. Before him, the hole stretched, impossibly black.

At the bottom, something moved—something that had been waiting.

Lisa’s voice snapped through the haze. “David!”

He blinked. A moment of clarity. He turned toward Lisa. “We’re leaving.”

She nodded. And then—the ground shifted beneath his feet. Not an earthquake. Not the wind.

Something pulled, and David stumbled.

Lisa screamed.

The last thing he saw before the ground swallowed him was Holloway. He was standing on his own porch, shovel in hand, smiling as if this had all been planned.

No, not like it was planned, David thought as he plummeted headfirst into the cavernous maw. Like it was inevitable.

Above the rapidly growing pit, Lisa scrambled back from the edge, wailing.

Below her, the ground shook. She took one last look at Holloway, just in time to see him wave politely.

She closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

And Lisa fell.