Moonlit hearts

Evelyn Parker had never been one to believe in ghosts or magic, but as she locked up the bookstore in the quiet town of Hawthorne Falls, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching her. The wind whispered through the trees outside, and the full moon hung heavy in the sky. The old bell above the door jingled as the last customer left, their footsteps fading into the night. Eve turned to grab her coat from the back room when a shadow moved in the corner of her eye.

She froze.

A man stood near the far wall, his figure cloaked in the darkness of the shop. His presence was almost magnetic, drawing her gaze despite the shiver that ran down her spine. His pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight that filtered through the windows. But it was his eyes that caught her icy blue, piercing through her with a depth she couldn't comprehend. He stepped forward, his lips curling into a smile that sent an electric pulse through her chest.

"I hope I'm not interrupting," he said in a voice that was both haunting and familiar, as though she had heard it before, in another time, another life.

Eve swallowed, gripping the counter behind her. "We're closed." His smile deepened, but he made no move to leave.

"I was just passing by. Thought I'd take a look." She studied him warily.

There was something ancient about him not in years, but in presence. Like he belonged to a different era. His dark clothing, the way he carried himself, the way his gaze held secrets, it all sent warning signals through her mind. "Bookstores don't usually attract late‑night visitors," she said cautiously.

He tilted his head slightly, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Ah, but this is no ordinary bookstore."

Eve's pulse quickened. "What do you mean?"

The man took another step forward, his presence filling the space between them. "There's history here," he said softly. "Old magic. And you..." He hesitated, as though weighing his words. "You don't belong to this place, yet somehow, it belongs to you."

A chill ran down Eve's spine.

"Who are you?" she demanded, voice unsteady.

He smiled again, but this time it was softer. "Rowan," he said simply.

"Rowan Blackwood." The name sent a strange ripple through her familiar, yet impossible. She had never met him before, had she?

Before she could ask another question, the old clock on the wall chimed, breaking the moment.

Eve blinked, and in that second, Rowan was gone. The bookstore was empty; the only sound was the rustling of pages in the breeze from the slightly open window. Eve exhaled, her heart hammering. She had never believed in ghosts or magic. But tonight, she wasn't so sure.

Eve couldn't sleep that night. The image of Rowan's piercing blue eyes haunted her, making it impossible to drift into unconsciousness. She tossed and turned, listening to the wind howl outside her apartment window.

Finally, at dawn, she gave up on sleep and decided to head to work early. The streets of Hawthorne Falls were eerily quiet, as if the town itself was still slumbering. A thick fog curled around the lamp posts, clinging to the cobblestone sidewalks like ghostly fingers. As she approached the bookstore, a sense of unease settled over her. The door was slightly ajar. Eve frowned. She was certain she had locked it last night. Heart pounding, she pushed the door open and stepped inside. The air smelled of old books and something else, something metallic and unfamiliar.

The store was eerily silent, save for the faint sound of rustling paper. Eve's breath hitched when she saw it. A single book lay open on the counter, its pages fluttering despite the absence of a breeze. She stepped closer, her pulse hammering in her ears. The words on the pages weren't in English. The letters twisted and curled, forming symbols she didn't recognize. A cold gust of air blew through the store, sending shivers down her spine. She spun around, but the door was closed.

"You shouldn't be here."

The voice was soft, almost a whisper, but it sent a jolt of fear through her. Eve turned slowly and found herself staring into the same icy blue eyes that had haunted her dreams. Rowan stood in the shadows, his expression unreadable.

"What... What is this?" Eve asked, gesturing to the book.

Rowan hesitated. "It's a warning."

Eve swallowed hard. "From who?"

His gaze darkened. "From the past."

The next morning, Eve couldn't shake the encounter from her mind. She chalked it up to exhaustion, an overactive imagination. But as she walked through town, she couldn't ignore the way the townspeople spoke in hushed tones, how they glanced over their shoulders as if expecting someone to appear from the shadows. At the bakery, Mrs. Holloway, an elderly woman who had lived in Hawthorne Falls her entire life, eyed Eve curiously.

"You look troubled, dear."

Eve hesitated, then asked, "Do you know someone named Rowan Blackwood?"

The bakery went silent. Mrs. Holloway's expression darkened. "Where did you hear that name?"

"I... I met him last night. At the bookstore."

The woman's lips pressed into a thin line. "That's not possible."

Eve frowned. "Why?"

Mrs. Holloway's gaze bore into hers. "Because Rowan Blackwood has been dead for over a hundred years."

A chill ran through Eve's veins. The wind outside howled, rattling the windows. And in that moment, she knew Hawthorne Falls held secrets far older than she had ever imagined. And somehow, she was at the center of it all.

Eve spent the rest of the day researching. She combed through the bookstore's archives, searching for anything that could explain what she had seen. Hours passed, and just when she was about to give up, she found it a newspaper clipping from 1894. The headline read:

"Local Man Disappears Without a Trace.....Rowan Blackwood Missing"

Eve's blood ran cold. The photograph accompanying the article was faded, but there was no mistaking it. The man in the picture had the same piercing blue eyes, the same sharp features. Rowan Blackwood had vanished more than a century ago. So how had she met him last night?

Before she could process what it meant, the lights in the bookstore flickered. The temperature dropped, and a whisper brushed against her ear.

"You need to leave."

Eve spun around, heart hammering. The store was empty. But she wasn't alone.

From the corner of her eye, Eve saw a darker shape slip behind a shelf, a presence colder and more malevolent than Rowan's. She blinked, but it was still there: a silhouette of a figure whose eyes glowed red in the dim light. Her breath caught as the figure drifted closer, silent as smoke. Rowan's warning echoed in her mind old magic, a warning from the past but this felt different. This was hunger.

She backed away, hand trembling as she reached for her phone. The last thing she saw before the figure vanished was a flash of crimson light, and then, silence.

Eve knew one thing with absolute certainty: she could not face whatever haunted Hawthorne Falls alone. And if Rowan Blackwood had returned from the grave, it was only a matter of time before she discovered why and who else was waiting in the shadows.