Chapter 1: The Silent Town
The town of Black Hollow had always been wrapped in an eerie silence after sunset. It was as if the streets themselves held their breath, waiting for something—or someone—that never arrived. The old gas lamps flickered along the cobblestone paths, their dim light barely piercing through the dense mist that rolled in from the hills each night.
Detective Elias Carter had heard stories about Black Hollow before he ever set foot there. Tales of people vanishing without a trace, of whispered voices in the wind, and of shadows that moved when no one was looking. But stories were just that—stories. And he wasn’t a man who feared the dark. Or at least, that’s what he told himself.
As he stepped out of his car, the cold night air wrapped around him like an icy grip. The station house was a modest building, aged by time, its wooden sign barely legible in the dim glow of the streetlamp. Sheriff Thomas Grayson, a man in his late fifties with graying hair and weary eyes, stood at the entrance, waiting for him.
“You’re later than I expected, Carter,” Grayson said, his voice carrying a hint of something Elias couldn’t quite place—concern, perhaps. Or maybe fear.
“Got caught up with another case,” Elias replied, shaking the sheriff’s hand. “Tell me about the missing girl.”
Grayson exhaled deeply. “Emily Thornton. Seventeen years old. She was last seen four nights ago, walking home from her friend’s house. No signs of struggle, no witnesses. Just… gone.”
Elias nodded, already forming a mental picture. “Family?”
“Her mother, Caroline Thornton. She’s been beside herself with grief.” The sheriff’s jaw tightened. “And there’s something else. The night Emily disappeared, two people claimed to have seen a figure standing at the edge of town, near the old chapel. They said it wasn’t moving, just watching.”
Elias raised an eyebrow. “And you believe them?”
Grayson hesitated. “I don’t know. But I do know one thing—this isn’t the first time.”
The detective frowned. “Meaning?”
“The same thing happened fifteen years ago. A girl named Lillian Price disappeared. Same age, same circumstances. And before that, twenty years ago—another girl, Anne Whitmore. Always a teenage girl. Always vanishing without a trace.”
Elias felt a chill creep up his spine. He’d dealt with serial kidnappers before, but this… this felt different. There was a pattern, a rhythm to it, like something out of a ghost story.
“Where’s Emily’s house?” he asked, slipping on a pair of gloves. “I’d like to start there.”
Grayson nodded, motioning for him to follow. As they walked through the empty streets, Elias couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched. That in the shadows, something ancient and patient was waiting.
And whatever it was—it wasn’t human.
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