The first light of dawn finds Marco Anselmi still awake, tormented by an image that shouldn't exist. A blurry silhouette, a detail impossible to ignore. Is it just an illusion or something more?
In the suspended silence of Foppolo, every shadow seems to have a secret, every whisper a warning. The snow covers everything, but it cannot erase the fears of those who, like him, seek answers.
While the town continues to live in silence, Marco delves deeper into the mystery of the abandoned house. He meets people who know more than they say, he collects fragments of truth hidden between shy glances and half-open doors. But the more he digs, the more the darkness seems to tighten around him.
There is someone who doesn't want the truth to come to light. Or maybe... something.
And when an unexpected phone call leads him to a meeting that could change everything, Marco realizes he is about to cross a threshold from which there may be no return.
One night, one date, one place he never stopped observing.
The second act of the investigation begins. But the real horror is yet to come.
The Enigma of the Abandoned House in Foppolo
by Marco Arezio
Short Stories. The Enigma of the Abandoned House in Foppolo. Whispers in the Snow. Chapter No. 2
The first light of dawn found Marco Anselmi still awake in Room 204 of the Bernardi Hotel in Foppolo. He had spent a restless night, haunted by the memory of that sinister house and, above all, by what his camera had captured. No matter how much he tried to convince himself it was an optical illusion—merely a play of light and shadow—he could not ignore the sensation that something, or someone, had truly been watching him from the upper floor.
A milky morning light, faint and tinged with bluish reflections, struggled to pass through the window blurred by frost. The creaking of the heating pipes mixed with the soft moan of the wind, lending the entire hotel an air of suspense. Marco got ready in silence, putting on the few clothes he had brought with him. He decided to take one last look at the photo on his camera’s display, almost hoping to find a reassuring detail.
But the figure was still there: indistinct, dark, at the top of the stairs.
He couldn’t deny the evidence. With a shiver, he tore his gaze away and slipped the camera into the inside pocket of his jacket.Upon leaving the hotel, a blanket of pristine snow covered everything—like a silent mantle vainly attempting to bury the village’s fears and secrets. Marco took a deep breath, even though the biting cold air seemed to cut his throat. He was determined to get back to the Cervo Nero (“Black Deer”) before daybreak, hoping to find Gianni free from prying eyes so he could discuss the abandoned house and that strange apparition in more detail.....
