Young Writers Society

Chapter 1: Shadows of the past

The town of Blackwood always had an eerie stillness, a kind of quiet that weighed on you if you stayed too long. Most people didn’t notice it at first; they were too busy admiring the quaint streets lined with old brick buildings and century-old trees shading the sidewalks. But that silence? It was heavy. It sat in the corners of your mind and curled around you when you least expected it. As a detective, I’d learned to listen to those silences. In towns like Blackwood, they usually meant there was something people didn’t want to talk about.

Today, though, the silence felt different. I stepped out of my car, scanning the streets and the familiar houses, each hiding its own set of secrets. I’d grown up in this town, left for the city, and then come back years later with a badge and a reputation for chasing down shadows. Funny thing about chasing shadows—sometimes, they start chasing you back.

As I adjusted my coat against the biting morning wind, I caught sight of Mrs. Langley across the street. She gave me a quick, forced smile as she hurried inside, pulling her son along by the arm. People here hadn’t exactly rolled out the welcome mat since I came back, but the fear I saw on her face this morning was new.

"Detective Cole," a voice called from behind me.

I turned to see Officer Ramirez, one of the newer recruits in the Blackwood police department, jogging over. His face was pale, and his eyes darted around, as if expecting something sinister to leap out from the quiet streets.

"Ramirez," I greeted him with a nod. "You look like you’ve seen a ghost."

"Wish it were just that, Detective," he said, swallowing hard. "It’s...we’ve got a problem. There's been another one."

That single sentence sent a cold ripple through me. "Another...what?"

"Another disappearance. Sarah Jenkins, seventeen years old. Her mother called it in this morning. She didn’t come home last night." His voice wavered, his eyes avoiding mine. Ramirez had the look of someone who wanted to be anywhere but here, saying anything but that.

I took a deep breath, my mind already racing through the last missing person’s case, just a couple of months back. It hadn’t ended well. Not in this town. People here didn’t like things they couldn’t explain, and a missing teenager was the kind of problem that didn’t have neat edges.

"Where was she last seen?" I asked, my voice sharper than I intended.

"At the old park by Willow Creek," Ramirez replied, shifting on his feet. "Her friends said she was supposed to be meeting them there for some bonfire, but they left around midnight, and she was still waiting for someone."

"Waiting for who?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.

"No one’s sure. Just…waiting." His voice softened, trailing off as if he didn’t want to say more. "People are talking, though. The townsfolk…they’re starting to say this isn’t a coincidence."

I could feel that familiar weight settle in, the one that made it hard to breathe. The last time we’d had a disappearance, it hadn’t ended with just one. And people here…they remembered. They didn’t forget when things got ugly.

"Get the case file ready," I told him. "I’ll head down to the Jenkins' place, see if her parents know anything we don’t."

As Ramirez turned to leave, I took another look around the street, watching as windows and doors closed tight, like the town was trying to protect itself from something unseen. Blackwood had always had a past. A dark one, if you dug deep enough. But this—whatever this was—it felt different. More personal. Like it wasn’t just the town keeping secrets this time.

It was as if the shadows themselves were watching.

I pulled up to the Jenkins' house, a modest, two-story home on the outskirts of town. The curtains were drawn tight, and the porch light flickered, casting an eerie glow over the lawn. Before I even reached the door, it opened, and Sarah’s mother stood there, wringing her hands. Mrs. Jenkins was a small woman, with a face worn by worry and sleepless nights. Today, her eyes were red-rimmed, and her face was pale as she gestured me inside without a word.

“Thank you for coming, Detective,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I followed her through the cramped hallway, glancing at the framed photos lining the walls. Family pictures, school portraits—Sarah's smile staring back at me from every angle. In each one, she looked like any other teenager: carefree, unburdened. But something nagged at me as I took in those images, some small detail I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

Mr. Jenkins appeared in the living room doorway, standing stiffly with his arms crossed. Unlike his wife, his face held no softness, only hard, unforgiving lines. “You’re here to find my daughter?” His voice was gruff, each word sharp and clipped.

“That’s right, Mr. Jenkins,” I replied, keeping my tone calm. “Anything you can tell me about Sarah’s plans last night would be helpful. Officer Ramirez mentioned she was at Willow Creek Park?”

Mrs. Jenkins nodded, twisting a tissue in her hands. “Yes. She was supposed to be with her friends, but they left early. They…they said she was waiting for someone.” Her voice cracked, and she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

“Did she mention who?” I pressed, though I had a feeling I knew the answer.

“No,” she whispered, “but she wasn’t acting like herself this past week. Sarah…she’d been…talking about strange things. Saying someone was watching her. I thought it was just teenage paranoia, you know? But now…”

She trailed off, and the silence settled thickly between us.

Mr. Jenkins cleared his throat, his gaze hard. “This isn’t the first time someone’s gone missing around here, Detective. Maybe you should be telling us what’s going on.”

I felt a flicker of something deep in my chest—a mix of frustration and that gnawing sense of responsibility. “I’ll find out what happened to Sarah,” I replied, holding his gaze. “And if this is connected to anything in the past, I’ll find that out too.”

There was more I wanted to ask, more questions lurking beneath the surface. But something in Mr. Jenkins’s look told me that whatever fear he held, it wasn’t ready to reveal itself just yet. I excused myself and left the house, my mind churning over everything I’d learned.

As I walked back to the car, I noticed a figure watching me from across the street. The man was tall, with a face half-hidden beneath the shadow of his hat. His expression was unreadable, and the way he stood—unmoving, observing—sent a chill down my spine.

He tipped his hat as I glanced his way, disappearing down a side alley without a word. I considered calling out to him, but something told me to let it go. For now.

As I drove back to the station, my mind kept circling back to Sarah, to the shadows in her parents’ eyes, and to the growing feeling that whatever had happened to her was only the beginning. Blackwood had a way of hiding its secrets, and sometimes, it seemed those secrets wanted to stay buried.