Held by the Past

1: Retur

Hollow. The sprawling manor loomed ahead, a shadowy silhouette against the pale evening sky. The sight of it sent a sh

o matter how much she wished to leave them buried. The iron gate creaked as she pushed it open, the sound echoing in the

he hallway was the only sound. Elena set her suitcase down and scanned the dimly lit space. Everything was as she remembered it: the grand st

of memories washed over her-of her mother sitting there, staring out the window with a distant, haunted look.

ena attended. The crowd was small, mostly older residents who remembered the Thompso

ing back after a

ke her mother,

she knows abou

in Hawthorne Hollow. Her mother had warned her about them once, though she

le

with a man she didn't recognize. His sharp jawline, intense gray eyes,

naged, her vo

d, extending a hand. "I wan

arm, his grip firm but not overbearing. There wa

said softly, pull

come back," Adrian sai

rrowed. "Why

enigmatic smile. "Hawthorne Hollow

she could think of something, he was gone

longings. Among the stacks of old letters and trinkets, she found a

d with her mother's neat, hurried

rything, but the truth is a weap

rest of the journal, but the words became more cr

sound echoed through the empty house, sharp and insist

ld night air greeted her. She glanced down and sa

r breath catching as she read the me

e Hollow before

o sear into her mind: "Leave Hawthorne Hollow before it's too late." She looked around the porch, searching f

er breathing. Her fingers trembled as she unfolded the note again, hoping to make sen

ve gloom. Sitting at the kitchen table, she placed the note next to her mother's journal.

herself, "What we

mother had written about a curse, about betrayal and tragedy. There were mentions of name

sage st

seep into the roots of this place, into the people.

ng that her return had stirred something in Hawthorne

-

ornin

w. For a brief moment, she forgot about the events of the previous night. But as sh

o learn more about the Moreau family. The name was a constant thread in her

with dusty volumes and forgotten histories. Elena approached t

ut the Moreau family," Elena sai

d her composure. "The Moreaus... they've been part of Hawthorne Holl

Elena replied, feeling the

her-bound book. "This is a town history. There's a chapter on the Moreaus

ction detailing the Moreau family's rise to prominence. They were wealthy landowners, respected b

en a Moreau and a woman from the Thompson lineage. The aff

upted her thoughts. "You're

d up, start

. "She was a good woman. But she carried a heav

ena asked, her voice b

r head. "Just... be careful. This town

-

se En

ed with Adrian Moreau. He looked as composed as ev

he asked, glancing at

ter. "Just trying to u

anding can be dangerous. Hawthorne Hol

find?" she shot back, he

g in the past needs to be uncovered, Elena. Som

na could respond, Adrian turned and walked away, leaving her sta

-

Disc

otograph-faded and yellowed with age. It showed a young woman who looked strikingly like her mother,

was all connected. And Elena was determine

echoed through the house. This time, it wasn't

a flashlight and made her way toward the source of the

oze. A door at the end of the hallway, one tha

she hadn't seen since she was a child. The air inside was stale, carrying the faint scent of mothballs and decay.

floor. In the center of the room stood a writing desk, its surface cluttered with papers, candles, and a cracked

oom no one else had been allowed to enter. She took a cautious step forward, her gaze falling on the des

ned the brittle pages. The entries were older, written in the s

faces in my dreams-screaming, pleading. The Moreaus think they've buried the past, but it's

ified, tormented by something beyond her understanding. The Moreaus wer

ward the door. It was open wider now, the hallway beyond shrouded in darkness. S

he called, her voice

he closed the journal and tucked it under her arm before stepping back into the hallway. She

raced with questions: What was her mother trying to protect her from? Why was the Moreau f

oughts. She froze, the blood draining from her face as she realized someone w

the reach of the porch light. She couldn't make out their f

aled the police. She explained the situation in hush

cher said firmly. "We're

sing second. Finally, the sound of tires crunching on gravel signaled the arrival of a

y, pointing toward the garden.

ne. One of them returned, shaking his head. "There's

her voice trembling

re turning back to her. "We'll patrol the area tonig

t, exhaustion washing over her. She felt trapped, surrounded by mysterie

day replaying in her mind. The note, the unlocked door, the figure in the garden-it all p

r room. She rose, determined to face the day and whatever it might bring.

s. The past might have been buried, but it wasn't forgotten. And if s

ets. The cryptic warnings, the figure in the garden, and Adrian Moreau's enigmatic behavior gnawed at her though

ren't in her mother's journals, perhaps they were in the house itself. The manor was vast, with rooms

light in hand. The air grew cooler as she ascended, and the faint sc

hazardly. Elena sifted through them, her fingers brushing against relics of her family

her's initials. Elena knelt beside it, the key conveniently resting in the lock. With a twist, the trunk creaked open,

found a delicate gold locket inside. The chain was broken, and the locket itself was tarnished

ked far older. The man was unfamiliar, his piercing gaze seeming to follow her even throug

coincidence. She placed the locket aside and turned her attention to th

e weight of what we've done-and what we must keep hidden-haunts me every day. I hope this let

ted decades earlier. Who was Margaret?

r phone. Elena nearly dropped the letter in surpri

e said, her

through the line, sending a shiver

r?" she asked, her tone s

"Meet me at the old mill in an hour.

Elena stared at her phone, her heart racing

-

rts of town. The structure was dilapidated, its windows shattered and its walls

u came," he said

e who's been vague and cryptic since the moment

e mill, the air inside damp and cool. He led her to a corner where a stack of old cr

s what ties our families together. It's the tru

reath catching as she recognized th

great-uncle. And the woman in the photogr

led. "They... th

nship destroyed both our families. The curse

lena demanded,

ret were deeply in love, but when their affair was discovered, the fallout was catastrophic. My family blamed yours, and yo

spine. "You're saying this is re

not. And now that you're back, it's stirring things up agai

ing away. My mother spent her life afraid of thi

d to be careful. Because whatever is tied t

determination hardening as she faces the enormity of