Eldermere was a small, quirky, peaceful town; it was a sanctuary, where relationships were built on trust and loyalty. Memories made, for as long and old as time, almost like the ancient oaks lining its streets. The warmth of the community embraced each other, like a comforting blanket against the outside evils of the world.
Zackary's memory turns to that first scream, piercing the stillness of the night, that sound that shattered the peace, and it has echoed through the alleys and streets and homes. That was the start to Eldermere peaceful change. Nothing after that would ever be the same in this small town ever again. But it has been weeks since then. It had dragged on since the brutal murder on that fateful night, yet the remnants of fear still cling to the residents like a shadow.
Like a persistent ghost that refused to release its grip. Whispers have been flowing a lot since then, as neighbours exchanged furtive glances and murmurs of their suspicions of what has happened that night. Those conversations are full of unspoken fear. The once-familiar laughter of all the children outside, running and playing without fear, was now replaced with an uneasy silence, only replaced now by rustles of leaves or the distant hoots of owls.
Tonight, an unsettling tension simmered just beneath the surface again. I can feel it. Another reminder that the peace that once was here, taken for granted, is no more. This town has transformed into a fragile place. Barely holding it together. Because now, the darkness that casts its shadows is now only filled with fear. The streetlights flicker like even they are nervous fireflies, illuminating the cracked pavement. The town is showing signs of dying. The people have doubts, even die hearts. People who have been living here all their lives.
The shadows now hold danger, and that danger is evil. Through the windows, you can see families huddled together, sharing stories of that fateful night, their hearts heavy with the knowledge that the peace they craved might never return. As that never ever before happened here in this small peaceful town. Here we were, all of us on the edge of dread, caught between the haunting past and an uncertain future. Knowing all too well that every creak and whisper of the wind now carries with it something else, something unknown.
Claire was the young woman whose body was found. She was lying in the woods, dumped like trash. Fear had gripped the people in this town. I turn slowly, looking around. This is going to be harder to restore this once peaceful little town back to what it was.
"Zack," someone said, drawing him from his reverie. Samuel, his oldest and most trusted deputy for years, looked up at him with a furrowed brow and a serious expression. "We've got to talk about what's happening. Zackary nodded, his gaze drawn toward the looming shadows blanketing Eldermere. "What have you uncovered?" "There's been another disappearance," Samuel uttered softly. "A local boy named Jacob. He vanished last night after his dinner shift. The townspeople are frightened, Zack. They believe it's linked to Claire's murder."
Zackary felt icy talons of apprehension clutch his core. "We must take swift action. Assemble the rest of the team. We'll scour the woods before dawn." "I'll get them, Ethan," Samuel responded, peering around as if the shadows themselves were eavesdropping. "But we must be more careful. Something or someone is out there, and we don't know what yet. Zackary's expression hardened as he met Samuel's gaze. "I've done this for years. I have faced darkness that would eat at most men. We will protect this place, this town, no matter the cost."
The two men walk through the dimly lit streets, their steps deliberate as the night's darkness surrounds them. A faint glow from the street lamps cast long, eerie shadows that fell on the pavement. This alone makes the atmosphere more uneasy. Zackary's senses suddenly sharpened, each whisper of the wind sending a shiver down his spine. It was as if the air was charged with electric currents, making him acutely aware that the danger lurking out there was not entirely out of sight. He could feel the predatory gaze of the evil presence out there; he should know he also has evil inside him, hiding beneath.
He can feel that evil hiding out there, watching them intently from the shadows in any of those abandoned buildings. The primary instinct within him urged him to remain wary of his surroundings, knowing that in this place, danger could strike without a moment's notice. "Zack," Samuel spoke, interrupting the silence between them. "You've been distant of late. This compulsion to shield everyone, I see that it's consuming you." Zackary shot him an irritated sidelong glance.
"I don't need your concern, Samuel. My focus is on catching this monster." "But your focus has become an obsession," Samuel insisted, worry etched on his visage. "You cannot save everyone. Sometimes you must let go of some things." "Letting go is not an option," Zackary retorted sharply. "Not when lives hang in the balance."
They came to the forest edge, the trees pointing branches that resemble dead fingers. The air was charged with tension, and Zackary felt it. The darkness was calling him. He steps into the shadows with Samuel, slow and hesitant, but follows close behind him. They walk down a row of trees, looking for signs, anything that could help to find Jacob. The forest was filled with noises, the leaves, a hoot from an owl, a branch cracking, all this in the far distance, but beneath it all, a silence. That silence is what makes Zackary shiver.
"There!" Samuel said sharply, pointing ahead. Zackary's heart pounded faster as they neared, and fear paralysed him when they stepped into the light. There, in the middle of the glade, was a ripped-open backpack. Zackary kneeled. "Jacob," he whispered the boy's name. "Zack, look," Samuel directed, pointing to the ground. Fresh prints were leading deeper into the woods. "Stay close," Zackary instructed, instincts flaring as they followed the trail. Each step felt heavy with foreboding, the forest enclosing them. "You believe they're connected?" Samuel enquired, glancing backward. "There is a link," Zackary confirms grimly. "But we must find Jacob before it's too late." As they pushed on, the darkness surrounded them like dark clouds. Zackary sensed the danger that surrounded them but couldn't see it. He felt it in his bones; something was waiting, watching.
Suddenly, he heard a rustle in the brush. Zackary whirled, ready for whatever it was to come out. 'Show yourself! 'He yelled, his voice resonating through the forest. A wild-eyed, dishevelled figure came out of the shadows. 'Please! Help me!'The man cried, his voice quivering. "Who are you?" Zackary demanded, stance ready to attack. "Just a passerby! I saw the boy you are looking for, Jacob! He was taken!" the stranger exclaimed desperately. "You must believe me!" Protectiveness surged within Zackary, though he remained wary. "Where? Where did you see him?" "The old mill! There was evil there!"
The man pleaded, sweating with fear. "You must hurry!" Zackary turned to Samuel without another word, grim determination settling upon him. "We're going to the mill. We must find Jacob before it's too late." As they ran through the forest, the darkness of the night around them, with danger in the air. Zackary's heart pounded relentlessly, matching this urgent mission. He knows the danger is closing in, but he won't run. He was the protector, and he would do everything it takes to keep this town safe.
Even if he had to face the Shadows.
This makes him the most worried.