The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter Thirteen

The sky above us was darkening by the minute, threatening to unleash its fury in a torrential downpour at any moment. Despite this looming threat, there was a strange sense of peace in the air as we made our way towards the town archives located just a short walk away from our school.

I don't know what it is, but days where the sky is gray, looking like it's getting ready to cry are my favourite. They always have been.

As a child I wasn't a huge fan of thunder, but I loved the lightning that usually accompanied it.

The way it lit up the sky, giving it a purple hue. It was simply beautiful. I could spend hours just watching it, which I did from time to time. Even to this day.

The familiar sights and sounds of our small town surrounded us as we walked past quaint stores and local businesses. The distant rumble of thunder added an element of excitement to our journey, making me quicken my pace in anticipation of reaching our destination before the storm hit.

The town archives, located in the heart of town next to the library, was our destination. It was a fifteen-minute walk from school, a trip that needed to be made quickly, if we hoped to avoid a potential downpour.

Finally reaching our destination, we pushed open the creaking doors of the archives and stepped inside. The interior was dimly lit, casting long shadows across rows of dusty bookshelves, filled with tomes, photographs and newspaper clippings.

"Hello?" I called out tentatively, receiving no response. Jon chuckled at my unease, but I couldn't shake off the feeling of being watched.

There was an eerie silence inside that sent shivers down my spine. I hesitated for a moment, considering turning back.

But Jon's hand on my arm stopped me in my tracks. "Let's wait a bit longer," he said softly. "They might be busy in the back."

Reluctantly, I agreed to stay a little while longer. As we waited in silence, another clap of thunder shook the building, causing me to jump slightly. Jon burst into laughter at my reaction, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

This place held the key to unlocking the dark secrets that had plagued our small town for more than a century.

As we stood in the dusty old town archives, surrounded by stacks of decaying books and forgotten papers, I couldn't ignore the feeling that something was off.

Jon and I had been discussing local history for our book when we heard it - a frail feminine voice that sent chills down our spines.

"Hello," the voice whispered, causing us to spin on our heels. Behind the desk stood a young brunette woman, about twenty years old. Her presence seemed out of place in this dimly lit room filled with ancient manuscripts.

"Whoa. Where did she come from?" Jon muttered under his breath as we cautiously approached her.

"Hello..." Jon began, trying to break the uneasy silence that hung heavy in the air.

"Be careful," she croaked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Excuse me," Jon asked politely, unsure of what to make of this strange encounter.

There was something not right about this scenario, and my instincts were screaming at me to leave. But curiosity got the better of us as we stood in front of her, noticing the stains on her green sundress that looked suspiciously like blood.

"Are you alright, miss? Are you hurt? We can bring you to the hospital," Jon offered kindly.

"You cannot help me. But you must help him," she said cryptically, her eyes darting between us with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.