The town of Blackwood hadn't changed much in fifteen years. The same narrow streets twisted through clusters of old Victorian houses, their roofs sagging under the weight of time. The same rusted streetlamps flickered in the early evening fog, casting long, wavering shadows over cracked sidewalks. Even the air carried the same scent—damp earth, pine, and something faintly metallic, like rain that never quite washed the past away.
Evelyn Carter gripped the steering wheel tighter as her car rolled past the Welcome to Blackwood sign, its paint peeling, its promise of a quiet, friendly community long since hollowed out. She had promised herself she wouldn't come back, yet here she was, drawn back like an unfinished sentence waiting for its final word.
She told herself this was just another assignment—an article on small-town histories for the magazine she freelanced for. That was the official reason, the one she could say out loud. But deep down, she knew better.
Lillian Gray.
Her name was a ghost Evelyn had never been able to exorcise. She had been sixteen when Lillian vanished, leaving behind nothing but an empty house and a silence that had swallowed the town whole. No body. No answers. Just the unbearable weight of the unknown. And now, fifteen years later, Evelyn was here to finally unearth the truth.
As she pulled up in front of the Blackwood Inn, the only motel in town, a heavy sense of déjà vu settled over her. The neon sign buzzed weakly, flickering between VACANCY and nothing at all. A lone figure stood beneath the awning, a cigarette glowing between two fingers.
She stepped out of the car, the cold biting through her thin jacket. The man turned, and recognition hit her like a jolt of static.
"Evelyn?"
Matthew Gray. Lillian's older brother. His face was sharper now, his blue eyes duller, haunted. The last time she had seen him, he had been a reckless nineteen-year-old with anger burning in his veins. Now, he looked like a man who had long since lost the strength to fight his demons.
"I heard you were coming," he said, exhaling smoke. "Didn't think you actually would."
Evelyn shut the car door. "And yet, here I am."
Matthew studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. "Bad idea."
"I get that a lot."
"No, I mean it." He crushed the cigarette beneath his boot. "Leave it alone, Ev. The past doesn't want to be dug up."
A cold wind slithered through the trees, whispering through the empty street. Evelyn ignored the chill creeping up her spine.
"That's the thing about the past, Matt," she said. "It doesn't stay buried forever."
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Just turned and walked away, disappearing into the night.
Evelyn exhaled, glancing up at the darkened windows of the motel. Blackwood hadn't changed.
But something about it felt different.
Or maybe, she thought, it wasn't the town that had changed. Maybe it was her.
And maybe—just maybe—that was the most dangerous part of all.
The road to Blackwood was narrower than Evelyn remembered, a winding stretch of asphalt that cut through miles of dense forest. The trees loomed on either side, their skeletal branches reaching toward the sky like outstretched fingers. The deeper she drove, the stronger the weight in her chest grew, pressing down with each passing mile.
She shouldn't have come back.
But the past had a way of calling her home, no matter how hard she tried to outrun it.
The Welcome to Blackwood sign emerged from the fog, its chipped paint barely legible. Beneath it, in smaller letters, was the town's faded motto: A Quiet, Friendly Community. Evelyn almost laughed.
Quiet, yes. But friendly? Not anymore.
Fifteen years had passed since Lillian Gray vanished, swallowed by the night without a trace. Fifteen years of unanswered questions, of whispered theories and unspoken fears. Evelyn had spent half her life trying to forget, but forgetting had never been an option.
She slowed the car as she reached the town limits, the familiar streets unfolding before her like a half-remembered dream. Blackwood hadn't changed much—same old Victorian houses, same rusted streetlamps, same air of quiet unease. But there was something different this time, something she couldn't quite place.
The motel came into view, its neon sign flickering between VACANCY and nothing at all. She pulled into the gravel lot, killing the engine. For a moment, she just sat there, gripping the steering wheel, listening to the rhythmic ticking of the cooling engine.
Then, movement.
A figure stood beneath the awning, half-hidden in the motel's shadow. Cigarette smoke curled in the cold night air. Evelyn didn't need to see his face to know who it was.
Matthew Gray.
She stepped out of the car, the night air sharp against her skin. The crunch of gravel beneath her boots seemed too loud in the silence.
Matthew turned slowly, his face catching the dim motel light. His features were sharper now—harsher. The last time she had seen him, he'd been a reckless nineteen-year-old with a temper that burned too hot. Now, he just looked… tired.
"I heard you were coming," he said, taking a drag from his cigarette. His voice was rougher than she remembered. "Didn't think you actually would."
Evelyn shut the car door. "And yet, here I am."
Matthew studied her for a long moment before shaking his head. "Bad idea."
"I get that a lot."
"No," he said, exhaling smoke. "I mean it, Ev. You shouldn't have come back."
A gust of wind rattled the motel sign, the neon buzzing in protest. Something in Matthew's expression darkened, and for a fleeting second, Evelyn thought she saw fear.
Her pulse quickened.
"The past doesn't want to be dug up," he continued.
Evelyn crossed her arms. "That's the thing about the past, Matt. It doesn't stay buried forever."
His jaw tensed, but he said nothing. Just dropped his cigarette, crushed it beneath his boot, and turned away.
She watched him disappear into the night, a cold unease settling in her chest.
Blackwood hadn't changed.
But something about it felt different.
And she had a terrible feeling that whatever it was… it had been waiting for her.
End of Chapter 1.