The wind outside had a strange quality to it now, a low, keening sound that seemed to slip through the cracks in the walls and settle in the room with me. It wasn't the normal how of wind; this was something more sinister, something almost alive. I tossed and turned for a while trying to ignore it, but after what felt like hours, I finally gave up.
I sat up, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and wandered over to the windows. The rain pounded against the glass in sheets, and the wind tore at the trees and signs along the street, but the buildings stood firm, as if the storm had no real power over them. It was odd. They looked battered-old and worn, like everything in Goodwater-but they weren't falling apart the way they should have been in a storm like this. It was like they'd been through this before, and whatever was coming wasn't enough to shake them.
That's when I heard it.
A howl, low and mournful, rising up from somewhere deep in the heart of the town. It wasn't the wind. No, this was something else entirely-something that crawled under your skin and settled in your bones. It echoed off the buildings, bouncing through the empty streets like it was searching for something, or someone.
I shivered, pulling my jacket tighter around me as I pressed closer to the window. The rain made it hard to see much, but there was movement down below. Figures. Dark shapes moving through the storm, like shadows that had slipped free from the night itself. They walked with slow, deliberate pace, their heads down, their shoulders hunched against the wind, but the strangest thing was, they didn't seem bothered by the storm at all.
I squinted, trying to get a better look. They weren't running for cover like you'd expect. They weren't struggling against the wind or the rain. No, they were just walking. Calm. unhurried. like they belonged out there in the chaos. Like the storm didn't touch them.
There were three of them-no, four. They drifted in and out of shadows, their faces obscured by hoods or hats pulled low, but there was something off about the way they moved. something unnatural. They didn't look up. They didn't glance around. They just kept walking, straight down the middle of the street, like they had somewhere to be. Somewhere important.
I felt a know tighten in my stomach. this wasn't normal. Hell, nothing about this town was normal, but this-this was something else. Something worse. I had the sudden, uneasy feeling that the storm wasn't just some freak weather event.
The howling grew louder, and I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end. I didn't know what the hell I was looking at, but I knew one thing for sure. 'I wasn't alone in that room anymore.' Whatever was out there, whatever was causing that sound it wasn't just passing through. It was watching. Waiting.
I stepped back from the window, letting the curtain fall shut as the wind screamed louder, rattling the glass like it was about to shatter. The howling outside had grown louder, more insistent, like something was calling to me through the storm. I'd tried to ignore it, to stay holed up in my room, but it gnawed at me, dragged me to the edge of madness until I couldn't take it anymore. I had to know. I had to see what was out there.
I grabbed my jacket, steeling myself against the cold, and slipped out into the hall. The place felt different at night-more alive, somehow. The walls creaked and groaned, as if the old wood was stretching in its sleep, and the sound of the wind pressed up against the building like a living thing trying to claw its way inside. Every step I took echoed unnervingly down the narrow stairwell, the old boards protesting under my weight as I descended into the darkened lobby.
When I pushed through the heavy front doors and out into the street, the town greeted me with an eerie silence, broken only by the distant whistle of the wind and the occasional creak of a street sign swaying in the gust. The storm still loomed overhead, thick and oppressive, but the rain had eased into a steady drizzle. It almost felt like the town itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
The shops along the street were dark and shuttered, their windows boarded up, their signs swinging limply on rusted chains. There wasn't a soul in sight, no movement except for the flickering streetlights that cast long, ghostly shadow across the wet pavement. The streets felt abandoned, like the whole town had already given up and surrendered to whatever dark force was stirring in the storm.
But the figures-the ones I'd seen before , the ones that moved through the storm as though it didn't touch them-they were gone. At least, they weren't visible now. All that remained were long deep marks on the road. They stretched out like clawed fingers dragging across the wet ground, leading away from the bar and toward the distant edge of town.
Curiosity gnawed at me, urging me to follow. I knew I shouldn't. Every instinct I had told me to turn back, lock myself in my room, and wait for daylight. But something about the way those marks, something about the way they cut through the town like a wound festering, corrupting. this is a sign that there was more to this than just strange weather and old superstitions.
I hesitated for only a moment before I started walking. Slowly, Carefully. My feet splashed in the shallow puddles as I traced the path of those dredge marks, my eyes scanning the darkened streets for any sign of movement. The town felt like it was watching me, like every building and alleyway was holding a secret just out of reach.
The further I went, the more oppressive the air became. The storm hadn't passed, not really-it was still there, brewing above, waiting for something to set it off. The wind picked up again, swirling around me, carrying with it strange whispers that I couldn't quite make out. They sounded like voices, but too far away to be understood. I glanced behind me, half expecting to see someone standing in the shadows, but there was nothing. Just the empty street and the flickering lights.
As I followed the marks deeper into town, the streets grew narrower, the building older. the lights here were fewer and farther between, casting long stretches of darkness that seemed to swallow up the edges of my vision. the dredge marks became more erratic, cutting across the road in sharp, jagged lines, as if whatever had made them had started to struggle.
Something in the back of my mind told me to turn back. That I'd gone far enough, there are other things that is more worth it than this. But I couldn't stop now. Not when I was this close to whatever secret the town was hiding. Whatever truth lay at the end of this trail.
The marks led me to a narrow alley, half-hidden behind a crumbling brick building. I stopped at the entrance, peering into the darkness. The alley was steeped in shadow, the walls slick with moisture, and I could just make out the faint outline of something further down-something that didn't belong.
I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped forward, the air growing colder with each step. The wind howled louder now, almost like it was trying to warn me away.
A crumbling brick building stood there, silent and foreboding. At first glance, it was nothing special, just another piece of forgotten architecture-old brick walls stained with time, windows long boarded up or shattered, the room sagging under the weight of decades of neglect. It could have been any number of buildings in good water, just another relic of a town that seemed to have one foot in the grace. But something about it was different. It carried a strange presence, an aura that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. It was like the building was watching me, aware of my every movement, even as it sat there in its decay.
I walked around it slowly, keeping my distance. The storm's wind tugged at my coat, the rain slapping my face like cold needles. But none of that mattered. I couldn't shake the feeling that this building was at the heart of something-something dark, something the rest of the town was built around. Everything here seemed to respond to it, like it was the center of a web, and all the other buildings were just threads connected to this decaying core.
I kept looking over my shoulder as I circled the place, half expecting to see something watching me from the shadows. But the street was empty, save for the flickering streetlights and the rainwater pooling on the cracked pavement. I stopped at a corner, trying to get a better sense of the building's layout , when I heard it-something heavy dragging across the ground.
I froze, listening. It wasn't just the sound of wind or rain; This was something deliberate. I ducked behind an old dumpster, pressing myself against the cold, wet metal. Peeking out from behind the edge, I saw it-a figure emerging from darkness of an alleyway. It was hunched over. its form shadowy and indistinct, as if the storm itself was trying to hide it from view. the rain lashed harder, and the wind whipped through the narrow streets, distorting everything in my vision. But I could see enough.
The figure was dragging something-something heavy. It moved slowly, deliberately, the sound of whatever it was pulling scraping along the wet ground. I squinted, trying to make out what it could be, but the storm seemed to work against me, every gust of wind blurring the line between shadow and light. The rain fell in sheets, obscuring everything like a veil. I could see glimpses of movement, flashed of dark clothing, but I couldn't make out a face, couldn't see what it was dragging behind it.
I held my breath, staying perfectly still as the figure moved closer to the crumbling building. It stopped at the edge of the alley, pausing as if it could sense something. My heart pounded in my chest. It was so close now, close enough that I could hear its labored breathing, could feel the weight of its presence pressing against me like the storm itself. The thing it dragged behind it made a wet, sloshing sound as it hit the puddles, and the wind carried the sharp tang of something metallic-blood, maybe. or something worse.
The figure lingered there for a moment longer, then began to move again, slowly dragging its burden toward the entrance of the crumbling building. The door creaked open, and the shadow slipped inside, vanishing into the dark like it had never existed. the door closed behind it with a soft thud, and then there was nothing-just the rain and the wind and the empty street.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. My hands were shaking, and I wiped the rain from my face, trying to steady myself. Whatever that figure was, whatever it was dragging-it wasn't good. But I couldn't leave now. not after seeing that.
I waited a few moments, listening to the storm, making sure the figure was truly gone. Then, keeping close to the shadows, I made my way toward the entrance of the crumbling building. There it was the dredge mark scarring the ground. the very dredge mark that leads me here, going into this crumbling building. the rain and wind still obscured my vision, but my instincts told me that whatever dark secrets this town was hiding. I can only find out what it was, by following that shadowy figure into the heart of the storm.