Divya 
The stone heads sat innocently enough on a shelf in the Robson household, but they had a presence that defied their size. Each seemed to watch with eyes carved from darkness itself. Soon, whispers of unease gave way to screams of terror.
Marion Robson first noticed the strange phenomena after dinner one evening. The air felt wrong like an uninvited guest had slipped through the door. Plates trembled on the table. The lights flickered. She dismissed it as a draft, a trick of faulty wiring. But as she turned, a shiver raced up her spine. She could feel something watching.
Later that night, she would swear she heard it: the low growl of an unseen beast.
The wolf appeared again the following week. A neighbor spotted it lurking outside the Robsons’ window. Tall as a man but hunched like an animal, it moved with unnatural silence. Some described it as a creature with yellow eyes that burned like lanterns. Others, braver souls, claimed it left claw marks on stone walls.
But was it real?
Curiosity drew a local investigator into the story a man known for chasing the strange and unexplainable. His name was Dr. Anne Ross, an archaeologist with a penchant for folklore and ancient curses. She had seen many oddities in her time, but when she held the Hexham Heads, her fingers tingled with a chill that felt like a whisper from the past.
“These heads,” she murmured, “they’re old… older than anything that should be here.”
But was it real?
Curiosity drew a local investigator into the story a man known for chasing the strange and unexplainable. His name was Dr. Anne Ross, an archaeologist with a penchant for folklore and ancient curses. She had seen many oddities in her time, but when she held the Hexham Heads, her fingers tingled with a chill that felt like a whisper from the past.
“These heads,” she murmured, “they’re old… older than anything that should be here.”
One stormy night, Marion awoke to the sound of glass shattering. Heart pounding, she grabbed a flashlight and crept into the hallway. She found nothing but broken glass near the window a small frame had been thrown from the shelf where the heads sat.
Her breath caught. They weren’t where she left them.
She backed away, her eyes wide. The air grew heavy, pressing against her chest. Her mind raced: Had they fallen? Had someone moved them?
Behind her, a low growl rumbled.
Turning slowly, she saw it a shadow darker than the night, towering and monstrous, its eyes glowing like embers. For a moment, time froze. The beast didn’t move, but its presence filled the room with suffocating dread.
She screamed.
The creature vanished.
By the time Dr. Ross arrived the next morning, Marion was pale and shaking. She described the events in gasps and fragments, her hands trembling as she gestured toward the shelf where the Hexham Heads sat.
“They’re alive,” she whispered. “I know it sounds mad, but they’re alive.”
Ross didn’t laugh. She had seen enough of the strangeness to know there were more things in this world than science could explain. Holding one of the heads again, she felt it was a pulse, faint but undeniable.
What were these objects? Why were they linked to a creature no one could explain? And most importantly, how had they ended up in a quiet garden in Hexham?
Further investigation revealed the garden wasn’t just an ordinary plot of land. Decades earlier, it had been part of a much larger estate, one rumored to be cursed. Ancient stones had been moved, dug up, and discarded without care stones that some believed should have been left undisturbed.
Local folklore spoke of a guardian spirit that watched over the land. It was said to take the form of a great beast when angered. Superstition? Perhaps. But Ross wasn’t so sure anymore.
She looked again at the heads, their silent faces mocking her with secrets they refused to share.
By now, the Robsons were prisoners in their own homes, terrified of the dark and what might be hiding within it. Friends stopped visiting. The neighbors whispered. The wolf still prowled, seen only when the moon hung heavy and full.
The case had grown beyond a simple curiosity. It was a story of curses and creatures, of ancient relics with unfinished business. And for Dr. Ross, it had become personal.
The next step was clear: Find the origin of the Hexham Heads. Uncover their story before their story ended someone else’s.
But where to start when the trail leads straight into legend?
A Question of Fear
What would you do if an ancient curse walked into your life? Would you burn it? Would you bury it?
Or would you keep it… and hope it didn’t keep you?
The Hexham Heads have only begun their story. In the next episode, we’ll dig deeper into the origins of their curse, the truth behind the beast, and the terrible price paid when the dead refuse to sleep.
Reader’s Note:
Listen carefully. Did you hear that?
When you stare into the darkness, sometimes… it stares back.
Stay Tuned for the ep-3, till then keep reading dip dives for more horror stories.
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