Story Blog

Part One The morning the girl disappeared, Willowbend was quiet in a way that made people notice the sound of their own breathing. The town sat along a narrow river that moved like a slow whisper through the trees. People liked to believe nothing bad ever happened there, even though they all carried secrets that clung to them like damp clothing. Detective Mara Ellison arrived at the police station before sunrise. She had worked in larger cities for years but returned home after her mother fell ill. Willowbend was supposed to be a temporary stop, but the quiet had a way of tightening around her until she no longer fought it. She poured herself a cup of bitter station coffee. Before she could take a sip, Officer Tom Briggs rushed in with a pale look on his face. He had only been on the force for a year, and every time something unusual happened, he looked like he was about to drop the paperwork. “Detective Ellison. We got a call. A girl is missing.” Mara set the cup down. “How ol...

Winston Street was the kind of place where nothing surprising ever seemed to happen. The houses sat in neat rows, the mailboxes were rusted in the same familiar way, and the old bakery on the corner opened each morning at six. Most of the residents liked it that way. Predictability made the world feel small and safe. Marian Price especially cherished that quiet rhythm. At sixty years old she had grown used to her routines. She woke at five, watered the potted lilies by her window, and checked the crossword in the newspaper before walking to her job at the public library. Every day followed the same pattern, steady and peaceful. She enjoyed the stillness because it kept her thoughts from wandering into parts of her past she preferred not to revisit. Her home sat at the far end of Winston Street with a picket fence she had painted herself. She knew every neighbor by name, except for the resident of the house with the blue door . The blue door belonged to the only house on the street ...