The Shed
894 Words
Tyler texted her just before sunset:
He’s gone. You coming?
Lena grabbed her backpack without hesitation. It was already packed, the notebook, the note from the time capsule, a flashlight, and a set of gloves she didn’t know if she’d need, but brought anyway.
The walk to Tyler’s house felt longer than usual, even though it was just six blocks away. The streets were quiet, the sky painted in streaks of orange and red, like the town itself was holding its breath.
When she arrived, Tyler was already at the gate.
“He takes the same route every time,” he said. “Walks past the cemetery, loops around, then hits the corner store for the paper.”
“How long do we have?”
“Thirty, maybe forty minutes.”
“Let’s move.”
He led her around the back of the house to a shed tucked between a row of hedges and a crooked tool rack. The structure was old, red wood faded to brown, the door swollen slightly from weather. A heavy silver padlock secured the front.
Tyler pulled a small key from his hoodie pocket. “Found it in the drawer under the sink last year.”
The lock clicked open with a dull snap.
Inside, the air was dry and thick with the smell of dust, old metal, and something else, aged paper, maybe, or the scent of things forgotten.
Lena stepped inside first, sweeping the flashlight across the cramped space. Tools hung neatly on pegboards. Shelves lined the walls, filled with boxes, stacked files, folded tarps, and bundles of labeled envelopes.
Tyler moved straight to the back corner and crouched beside a lower shelf.
“There,” he whispered, pointing. “Blue plastic box. Bottom right. See it?”
Lena slid it out. It was heavier than she expected.
Labeled on the top in fading marker: 1047 – ER Case.
“ER?” she asked.
“Emily Reeves,” Tyler said quietly. “Initials. My dad’s shorthand.”
She set the box on the workbench.
The moment she opened it, the air shifted like something unseen had passed through the room.
Inside was a neat stack of folders, manila and slightly curled at the corners. The first was a report stamped “UNRESOLVED” in bold red.
She flipped it open.
Timeline of disappearance
Map of the fairgrounds
Interview notes
Witness list
One note caught her eye immediately, dated three days before the fair. A report filed by a substitute teacher at Ridgewood Elementary.
Student (Emily Reeves) reported feeling watched by an unknown figure near the school fence. Description: Tall, male, no visible face. Student was agitated, spoke in fragmented sentences. Advised to rest. Report closed.
Lena’s breath caught.
“She said that to me,” she murmured. “At the fair. ‘Do you see him?’”
Tyler nodded slowly. “She was seeing someone before that. Not just one time.”
Lena turned the page, a photo was stapled to the next report. Grainy, low-res, probably from an old flip phone.
It showed the tree line near the back of the fairgrounds.
And there, standing just beyond the crowd, was a shadow.
A tall, narrow shape in dark clothing.
No visible face.
No features at all.
Just… blank.
A blur.
Lena’s hand shook as she traced the edge of the image.
“This isn’t normal,” she whispered. “That’s not just some guy lurking in the woods. That’s something else.”
Tyler pulled a sheet from the bottom of the box.
“Look at this.”
It was a handwritten note on yellow paper, the same kind from a legal pad.
“Symbol found near site. Matches markings from 1998 and 2005 incidents. Similar behavioral patterns reported. Cycle?”
Below that, a rough sketch:
A circle with an X carved through the center.
Lena froze. “I saw that in the woods.”
Tyler turned to her, brows raised. “Where?”
“Three trees marked near the clearing. The capsule was buried in the center.”
Tyler ran a hand through his hair. “This is bigger than just Emily.”
Lena nodded. “It’s happened before. It’s happening again.”
A creak outside the shed made them both jump.
Footsteps. Slow. Crunching over dry leaves.
They froze, eyes wide.
Then...
A voice.
Tyler’s dad.
“Tyler?”
Panic surged.
“Get the light,” Tyler hissed, slamming the folder shut.
They stuffed the papers back into the box, shoved it onto the shelf, and pulled the door closed just as the back gate clicked open.
They ducked behind the side of the shed, breathing hard, crouched low in the hedges.
Lena peeked through the leaves, his dad stood in the yard, holding a paper bag, glancing around.
Then, after a long pause, he turned and went inside.
They waited thirty more seconds before Tyler whispered, “Come on.”
They slipped out the gate, hearts pounding, adrenaline buzzing under their skin.
By the time they made it two streets away, Lena finally spoke.
“That photo,” she said. “We need a copy.”
“I’ll go back later. When he’s asleep.”
She nodded, clutching her bag.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
Because they both knew:
Whatever had taken Emily… hadn’t finished what it started.
- Writer
