Chapter 1: New Town
1351 Words
I screamed.
And woke.
I bolted upright in chair, gasping. Sweat clung to my skin, my heart pounding like it would tear through my chest. The conpartment was quiet, but the dream still clung to me like fire, like blood that wouldn’t wash away.
I pressed my hands against my jacket, trying to steady my shaking.
The images stayed in my head, the battlefield, the blood, his glowing eyes. My own reflection screaming and fighting him.
And his words echoed over and over.
A mistake. You don’t belong. You will destroy us all.
I buried my face in my trembling hands.
It was only a dream.
But it didn’t feel like one.
I adjusted my seat, fixed my hair, and wiped away some tears that I hadn’t realized had escaped my eyes.
That’s just a dream, Cosette. That will never happen, it’s impossible.
I took a deep breath before my gaze landed on the paper in my hand.
It shook with every bump of the train. The edges had gone soft now, the folds almost white from how many times I had opened and closed it. My eyes always landed on the same words.
Station 15. Elwood.
That name had been living in my head ever since Aunt Neela’s letter arrived. Elwood. A place I had never seen, a town full of people I didn’t know. And yet it was where I was supposed to start over.
I stared at the paper until the words blurred. Then I looked out the window again.
The view kept changing. First, wide fields of yellow and green spread out under the sky. Then patches of trees, their branches tangled and quick to vanish as the train rushed by. After that, gray hills rolled along the horizon, dark clouds hanging low over them.
Inside the train, the air was hot and thick. The metal walls rattled with every turn, and the floor shook beneath my shoes. But it wasn’t the heat that made my chest ache. It was the hollow space inside me.
Ever since Aunt Lethia was gone.
I pressed my forehead against the cool glass, letting the sound of the wheels carry me backward. Back to her laugh, bright and warm. Back to the smell of cinnamon bread every Sunday morning, filling the kitchen until I couldn’t escape it. Back to her steady hand on my shoulder when she told me to be strong.
She had been my anchor. And now she was gone. I was drifting.
The paper crumpled in my hand as though I could force some certainty out of it. But all I got was smudged ink and creased lines.
Neela Winslow. My mother’s other sister. We had spoken once, on the phone. Her voice had been short and exact. Not unkind, not rude, just… sharp. She wasted no words. She had no softness in her tone. Nothing like Aunt Lethia. And now I was going to live with her.
The train plunged into a tunnel. The glass went black. My reflection looked back at me, pale skin, tired eyes, lips pressed tight. I hardly knew the girl staring back.
When the train came out into light again, the land looked different. Rough. Wild grass pushed through patches of dirt, climbing higher than I thought grass could grow. My heart beat faster, as if it already knew I was close.
The train shrieked as it slowed. The sound jolted through me. I blinked at the view outside, startled.
No town. No station. Only weeds. Only trees.
The train gave one last lurch and stopped.
A knock at my door made me jump. I turned, and the conductor stepped inside. His uniform was smudged with ash, his face lined with soot and years of hard work.
“Miss,” he said. His voice was steady, but it carried a kind of weight. “This is your stop. Station 15. Elwood.”
I frowned. “Here? But… this doesn’t look like—”
He bent to grab my suitcase before I could finish. His movements were brisk but not unfriendly.
“I’ve brought passengers here before,” he said. “It never looks like much.”
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered, hugging the paper tighter.
He glanced at me. The corner of his mouth twitched, as though he might smile, but stopped himself. “You expected a proper station, I suppose.”
“Yes. Something. Anything more than… weeds.”
He rested his hand on the suitcase handle. “Elwood isn’t the sort of place that needs a grand welcome. People there, they don’t advertise themselves.”
There was something careful in the way he said it, as if he thought about each word before letting it go.
“You’ve been there?” I asked quickly.
He nodded once. “Enough to know the town runs on its own kind of order. Folks keep to themselves. Not unfriendly, just… private.” His eyes met mine, steady now. “Best you remember that.”
A lump formed in my throat. “You make it sound like I shouldn’t be going at all.”
His hand tightened briefly on the suitcase handle, then let go. “If you weren’t meant to be here, your name wouldn’t be on my manifest. That’s all I’ll say.”
A shiver crept down my back. I didn’t like the way he said it, as though fate itself had written me onto his list.
The train hissed, steam curling up around the windows. It was ready to leave.
The conductor lifted the suitcase, carried it into the narrow hall, and set it down by the door. He touched the brim of his hat.
“Good luck, Miss Zedler.”
I frowned, confused. “You know my name? How—”
But before I could ask, the whistle screamed. The ground shook. The train jolted forward.
I stumbled onto the platform, my suitcase thudding against the old wood.
“Wait!” My voice cracked as I shouted. But the train was already pulling away, the cars clattering faster and faster until the last one disappeared. The conductor’s face vanished behind the glass.
And then I was alone.
The platform sagged beneath my feet, boards creaking as if they might snap. Dust floated in the air. The dirt road stretched behind it, empty and dry. Across the tracks, the woods pressed close, their branches heavy and dark.
No voices. No movement. Only silence.
I clutched the paper in my hand, fingers tight enough to tear it. Aunt Neela had written the address herself. She had promised to meet me. She wouldn’t break that promise.
I told myself I only had to wait.
But the stillness pressed in. So sharp it hurt.
Minutes dragged. Each sound I made, each breath, each shuffle of my shoes, seemed too loud. I set my suitcase down and sat on the edge of the bench. Dust rose up and clung to my skirt.
The air smelled of weeds and old wood. A bird cried high above, a sound that seemed too lonely, as if it had been left here as long as the broken station had.
I tried to steady myself. I whispered, “She’ll come. She’ll come.” The words felt thin, but I held onto them anyway.
My eyes kept sliding back to the dirt road. Empty. The fields behind it swayed with the wind, but no one came walking. No cars. Nothing.
I pressed my lips together until they hurt.
Then a sound cut through the silence. A long, low horn.
I jumped to my feet, heart racing.
Relief poured through me when I saw it, an old black car creeping down the road, its tires kicking up dust. My hands shook as I grabbed my suitcase and hurried forward.
The car rolled past me at first, and panic clawed up my chest. But then it braked hard. Dust curled around it, thick enough to sting my eyes.
The driver’s door opened with a slow creak.
A figure stepped out.
And then a voice called my name.
“Cosette Zedler.”
- Writer
