Chapter One: The Invitation
1203 Words
Clara Bennett almost threw the envelope into the trash.
She had already picked it up twice that afternoon, turned it over in her hands, checked the front, checked the back and wondered the same thing each time.
Who sends a letter like this?
There was no stamp. No return address. No company name. Nothing written in the corner to tell her where it had come from.
Just her name.
Clara Bennett.
The handwriting was neat, almost too neat, written in black ink across the middle of a thick cream envelope.
She sat behind her desk, staring at it while the office around her slowly emptied.
It was almost six.
Her coworker, Maya, had left twenty minutes ago after complaining about the traffic. The receptionist had gone home. Somewhere down the hallway, someone was still talking on the phone, but even that voice had become quieter.
Clara looked at the envelope again.
She should throw it away.
That was the sensible thing.
Instead, she opened it.
Inside was a single black card.
There was no letter.
No explanation.
Only a silver symbol in the center and a few lines underneath it.
THE NOCTURNE
You are invited.
Friday, 11:30 p.m.
Clara frowned.
She turned the card around.
Nothing.
She looked inside the envelope again, hoping she had missed something.
There was nothing else.
"What is The Nocturne?"
She said it quietly, even though nobody was there to answer.
She searched the name on her phone.
Nothing useful came up.
There were restaurants with similar names. A hotel in another city. An old song. A few photographs of nightclubs that clearly had nothing to do with the invitation sitting on her desk.
Clara leaned back in her chair.
This was strange.
Very strange.
She should have stopped there.
She should have thrown the card away and gone home.
But then she noticed the date.
Friday.
She looked at it for several seconds.
It was the anniversary of her mother's death.
Clara's fingers tightened around the card.
For a moment, the office disappeared around her.
She was twelve again, sitting on the cold floor beside her mother's bed while adults moved quietly through the house. She remembered the smell of perfume, the sound of someone crying in the next room and her father's hand resting on the top of her head.
She remembered being told that her mother had been sick.
She had accepted that explanation because she had been too young to question it.
Over the years, there had been moments when she wondered if there was more to the story.
Her mother had never talked much about her life before Clara was born. Whenever Clara asked, she always received the same vague answers.
"It was a long time ago."
"You don't need to worry about that."
"Some things are better left in the past."
Clara had stopped asking.
Until now.
She looked at the silver symbol on the card again.
Something about it bothered her.
She had seen it before.
She just couldn't remember where.
Her phone vibrated.
Maya's name appeared on the screen.
Did you leave yet?
Clara smiled faintly and typed back.
Not yet.
A second message came almost immediately.
Don't tell me you're still working.
Clara looked around her empty office.
I'm leaving now.
She put the card back into the envelope and slipped it into her handbag.
She did not tell Maya about it.
She wasn't even sure why.
Maybe because saying it out loud would make the whole thing seem even stranger.
Maybe because some part of her already knew she wasn't going to throw it away.
She packed her things and switched off her computer.
By the time she reached the parking lot, the sky had turned dark.
The city was busy as usual. Cars pushed through the traffic, headlights flashing against the wet road, and people hurried along the pavement with their phones pressed against their ears.
Clara sat inside her car without starting the engine.
She placed the envelope on the passenger seat.
"Don't be stupid," she whispered.
She picked it up.
Then she put it down again.
Her mother had been dead for fifteen years.
There was no reason to connect a strange invitation to her.
None.
Still, the feeling would not leave her.
Something was waiting inside that envelope.
She drove home.
---
That night, Clara couldn't sleep.
She tried watching television.
She tried reading.
She even cleaned her kitchen, which was something she normally avoided unless she had absolutely nothing else to do.
Nothing helped.
At 1:17 in the morning, she was sitting on the edge of her bed with the invitation in her hand.
She turned it over again.
The silver symbol caught the light from her bedside lamp.
A circle.
Three small lines crossing through it.
Clara stared at it.
Then she remembered.
Her mother had a necklace.
Clara had not thought about it in years.
It had been a small silver pendant with almost the same symbol.
She had seen it once when she was a child.
Her mother had been standing in front of the bedroom mirror, fastening the necklace around her neck. Clara had asked what it meant.
Her mother had looked at her through the mirror.
For a second, she had seemed frightened.
Then she smiled and said, "It's nothing."
Clara's stomach tightened.
She reached for her phone.
She almost called her father.
Her thumb hovered over his name.
What would she say?
Dad, do you remember a necklace Mum had fifteen years ago? Also, do you know anything about a place called The Nocturne?
It sounded ridiculous.
She put the phone down.
Maybe she was making something out of nothing.
Maybe the invitation had nothing to do with her mother.
Maybe someone had simply made a mistake.
But there was only one way to find out.
Clara picked up the invitation.
Friday night.
11:30 p.m.
She stared at the time printed on the card.
Then she sighed.
"Fine."
She would go.
She would look around, find out who had sent it and leave.
That was all.
No getting involved.
No asking unnecessary questions.
No staying longer than she had to.
She placed the invitation on the bedside table and finally turned off the lamp.
For a while, she lay still in the darkness.
Then her phone lit up.
A message.
Unknown number.
Clara sat up.
She opened it.
There were only six words.
You should not have accepted it.
Her heart began beating faster.
She stared at the message, waiting for another one.
Nothing came.
She checked the number.
Unknown.
She tried calling.
The call ended immediately.
Clara sat there for another minute, holding the phone in her hand.
She could still decide not to go.
She knew that.
She could throw the invitation away in the morning and forget the whole thing.
But somehow, she already knew she wouldn't.
She looked toward the bedside table.
The black envelope was still there.
And beneath the light from the window, the silver symbol seemed almost familiar.
Almost like something from a part of her life she had forgotten.
Clara lay back down, but sleep never came easily after that.
Friday suddenly felt very far away.
And very close.
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