Chapter Three – The Girl Who Vanished
618 Words
Amelia couldn’t tear her eyes away from the photo.
The resemblance was unmistakable — same eyes, same smile, same tilt of the head. The name below the picture read Eleanor Hale, but the longer she stared, the more she felt as if the paper were mocking her.
Her pulse thudded in her ears.
A cold breeze swept through the square, and the flyer fluttered, snapping her back to reality. She quickly folded it off the board and slipped it into her bag. Something about it felt wrong — not just the eerie likeness, but the fact that it was still there.
A missing person poster, faded but never removed, sitting untouched for an entire year.
She turned toward the Sheriff’s Office across the street. The building was small, its paint chipped, its flag limp in the wind. Inside, the air smelled faintly of coffee and dust.
A man in uniform looked up from his desk as she entered. His badge read Sheriff Dalton.
“Morning, miss. You new in town?”
“Yes. Amelia Vance.” She hesitated. “I… found this posted outside.”
He took the paper from her, his expression tightening. “Eleanor Hale,” he muttered, more to himself than to her. “That’s an old one.”
“She went missing a year ago?”
He nodded slowly. “Never turned up. Folks stopped asking after a while. The family moved away.”
“Do you know what happened?”
Dalton sighed, folding the paper carefully before setting it aside. “People disappear sometimes. Wander into the woods, don’t come back. Or leave without saying goodbye. Either way, the Hollow keeps its quiet.”
Something in his tone made her shiver.
“Do you think she’s… dead?” she asked.
The Sheriff’s jaw tensed. “I think it’s best you don’t go asking too many questions, Miss Vance. Elderidge Hollow doesn’t like being disturbed.”
He turned back to his paperwork, clearly done with the conversation.
Outside, the sky had darkened. Clouds hung low, swallowing the edges of the forest. The quiet that had once felt peaceful now pressed on her chest like weight.
As she crossed the square again, she saw movement near the bookstore — a flash of dark leather and familiar eyes.
The man from breakfast.
He was standing near the window, watching her with that same unreadable expression.
She walked toward him before she could stop herself. “You didn’t mention the missing girl,” she said.
He arched an eyebrow. “You found the flyer.”
“You knew about her?”
“Everyone does. But no one talks about it.”
“Why not?”
He looked past her, toward the mist creeping in from the woods. “Because she wasn’t the first.”
Amelia’s breath caught. “What do you mean?”
He met her gaze. “You really want to know?”
She nodded.
He stepped closer, his voice dropping low. “This town has a rhythm — people come, people go, and sometimes… the Hollow takes one. Always women. Always around this time of year.”
Amelia’s throat went dry. “You’re serious?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a folded slip of paper, and handed it to her.
“Here. If you’re planning to stay, you’ll need this.”
She unfolded it — a hand-drawn map of the town, with one place circled in red ink at the edge of the forest:
> THE OLD MILL
Before she could ask why, he was already walking away, disappearing into the thickening fog.
And for the first time, Amelia realized something terrifying —
she hadn’t told him her name.
- Writer
