It started with a single envelope.
No return address.
No postage.
Just a neatly typed letter inside.
"Greetings from Ravendale! The festival is in full swing, and we wish you were here."
Ravendale.
A town that did not exist.
At first, the city clerk thought it was a joke.
A prank.
Until more letters came.
Hundreds.
Delivered to homes, businesses, schools.
Each one different.
"Our little bakery is selling out of fresh apple tarts!"
"The mayor gave a wonderful speech at the town square today."
"The new bridge is finally complete—crossing over the river at last!"
The details were rich, full of names, events, even the weather.
Too real to be nonsense.
But no maps showed Ravendale.
No records.
No satellite images.
It did not exist.
Yet the letters kept coming.
Then, the first response arrived.
A woman named Helen wrote back, half-joking, sending a letter to the return address.
It was a simple message.
"Hello! Where exactly is Ravendale? This sounds like a lovely place!"
The next week, she received a reply.
"Dear Helen, you would love it here. The gardens are blooming, and the air smells of lavender. You should come visit soon!"
Helen laughed.
Then, a week later—
She was gone.
Her house was empty.
Her phone disconnected.
No one knew where she went.
Only one thing was found in her mailbox.
A final letter.
A short note, written in her own handwriting:
"I made it. It's beautiful."
Signed—
Helen, from Ravendale.
The disappearances spread.
More letters.
More responses.
More missing people.
One by one, they vanished.
Leaving only letters behind.
The city grew restless.
People stopped opening their mail.
Some burned every envelope they received.
But the letters kept coming.
Then, one night, the mayor's office received a final message.
A thick envelope.
Inside were dozens of photographs.
A bustling town.
Bright streets.
Smiling people.
And in the last photo—
A large, wooden sign at the town's entrance.
Carved in elegant letters:
"Welcome to Ravendale. Population: Growing."
Beneath it, a list of names.
Helen was there.
So were the others.
And at the very bottom—
A new name had been added.
The mayor's.
That night, he disappeared.
And the letters stopped.
For now.