The morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft streaks across the floor of my room as I lay there, wide awake. I hadn't slept much, not after the nightmare, not after the disturbing entries in the diary. Every time I closed my eyes, the same image would flash before me: the shadowy figure standing in the distance, the sense of familiarity that gnawed at me, the terrible feeling that something was coming for my sister, and for me.
I rubbed my face with my hands, trying to shake off the exhaustion, but it was no use. I couldn't escape the weight of what I had seen. The fear, the uncertainty, the growing dread that something was wrong with this town, with everything around me.
I had to know more.
That's when I remembered something that had been nagging at the back of my mind. Lila.
Lila had been quiet the last few hours, almost too quiet. She had stayed with me through the night, but now it seemed like she had retreated into herself, like she was waiting for something, or perhaps, trying to process the same disturbing truths we had uncovered. I glanced at the clock. It was almost 9:00 AM. I needed to get up, I needed to figure out what had happened to this town, what had happened to everyone who had disappeared.
I stood up and grabbed my phone, pulling up the messages I'd exchanged with Lila the night before. Her last text read, "I'll look into the history of the town today. We need answers."
I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. Lila had always been the type to bury herself in books and research when she was feeling overwhelmed, but digging into the town's past could be dangerous. It could be more than we were ready for. But then again, we needed answers. The town had secrets, and those secrets were about to swallow us whole.
I pulled on a sweatshirt and headed downstairs, finding my dad sitting at the kitchen table, a mug of coffee in hand. He didn't look up when I entered, his attention focused on the newspaper spread out in front of him.
"Morning, Dad," I said, trying to sound casual.
He gave me a distracted grunt in response, his eyes still glued to the paper. I couldn't help but notice the lines on his face had deepened in the past few days, and there was something in his gaze that was different—a kind of weariness, a silent tension that hadn't been there before. My dad had always been calm, the kind of person who kept things together no matter what. But now… there was something more.
I could feel it.
"Where's Hannah?" I asked, trying to break the silence.
"She's outside playing," Dad muttered without looking up.
I nodded, grabbing a quick breakfast before heading outside. As I stepped onto the porch, the cool morning air hit my face, fresh and invigorating, a brief respite from the weight of the situation. The street was quiet, too quiet, but that was nothing new for our small town.
Hannah was sitting on the front lawn, her stuffed rabbit beside her as she drew with chalk on the sidewalk. Her blonde hair was messy, but she looked at peace, blissfully unaware of the danger that lurked in the shadows.
"Hey, kid," I said, crouching beside her.
She looked up with a bright smile, her cheeks flushed from the fresh air. "Hi, Ethan! Look at my drawing!"
I smiled faintly, following her finger as she pointed to a series of abstract shapes she had drawn in colorful chalk. It was just a simple drawing, but the innocence in her smile made me feel guilty. She shouldn't have to live with the things I had learned. She should have been shielded from all of this.
"Looks great," I said, ruffling her hair. "You stay out here, okay? I need to go talk to Lila."
"Okay, Ethan," she said cheerfully. "I'm gonna draw more!"
I turned and made my way down the street, my mind racing. Lila had texted me earlier, but I hadn't had a chance to see her. She had mentioned wanting to dig deeper into the town's history, but I didn't know how far she had gone yet. I couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more hidden beneath this town's quiet exterior—something old, dark, and dangerous.
As I reached the small park at the end of the street, I spotted Lila sitting on one of the benches, her laptop open in front of her. She was focused on the screen, her fingers moving rapidly over the keyboard. I could tell she was deep in thought, her brows furrowed in concentration.
I walked over and sat beside her, leaning in to glance at the screen.
"What have you found?" I asked.
Lila didn't look up, but her fingers slowed on the keyboard. "A lot," she said quietly. "A lot more than I was expecting."
I raised an eyebrow, leaning closer.
She clicked on a few files, pulling up old records from the town's local archives. The pages that appeared were filled with dates, names, and cryptic notes. Some entries were barely legible, others were detailed in their descriptions, but the common thread among all of them was unsettling—people had been disappearing from this town for generations.
"There's something strange here," Lila continued, her voice low. "I'm looking through records from the past century, and these disappearances—they don't just happen randomly. There's a pattern. A cycle."
I frowned, feeling a chill creep up my spine. "What kind of cycle?"
"The names," she said, scrolling down the screen. "They're all connected to the same places, the same times. And they all disappear under similar circumstances. Some of them have been missing for decades, others for just a few years. But no one talks about them. It's like they've been erased from history."
I glanced at the screen, where a list of names had been highlighted. The first one on the list was from 1910—Matthew Archer, a local farmer who had vanished without a trace, last seen walking down Main Street. The next was from 1924—Maggie O'Donnell, a young woman who had gone missing after attending a town dance. Then, there was another from 1943, Richard Halloway, a distant relative of mine, who had disappeared after his brother's funeral.
I froze, my finger hovering over the screen as I read the name that followed. It was my great-grandfather's name—Raymond Holloway.
I pointed it out to Lila. "This is… this is my family."
She leaned closer, her gaze scanning the name. "What does it say about him?"
I clicked on the entry, and the page loaded slowly. The text was faded, but it was still legible.
Raymond Holloway, 1943: Last seen walking toward the woods behind Holloway's farm. Found only his boots and a small bloodstain near the creek. The case was never solved.
I felt the blood drain from my face. I'd never heard this story before, not in all the family gatherings and history lessons. How could I not know about this? And why was it in this file, hidden among all the others?
"I don't understand," I whispered. "What does this mean? Why is it happening again?"
Lila leaned back, her fingers typing furiously. "I'm not sure yet, but I'm finding more names like this. People connected to this town, people from all over, who vanish without a trace. And it's not just a few people, Ethan. It's hundreds. Hundreds of people over the past century, all gone. And the weird thing is…" She trailed off, her eyes scanning the screen with growing unease.
"What?" I pressed.
Lila's voice dropped lower. "They all have connections to the festival."
My stomach sank. I thought about the festival we'd just had, the one where Peter had disappeared. I thought about the way the town had reacted—like nothing was wrong, like it was just another normal event. But it wasn't normal. Nothing about this town was normal.
I grabbed her laptop, scrolling through the pages quickly, my heart pounding. I saw more names. Some were just fleeting mentions, like the older cases—some were more recent. The most recent entry, the most chilling of them all, was from just three months ago.
The name was Peter Harper.
I slammed the laptop shut, my breath catching in my throat.
"Ethan," Lila said, her voice filled with worry. "We have to keep digging. There's something here. We can't stop now."
I stood up abruptly, my mind racing. The festival. The names. The disappearances. It was all connected. It had to be. And Hannah's name was on that list too, I was sure of it. But I didn't have enough answers. Not yet.
"We'll keep going," I said, my voice steady despite the fear that was bubbling inside. "But we need to be careful. If people are really disappearing like this, then we're dealing with something much bigger than we thought."
Lila stood up beside me. "I know," she said softly. "But we're not backing down. Not now."
And as we walked back toward the street, I couldn't shake the feeling that we had just uncovered a thread that was about to unravel everything we thought we knew about this