Betrayal Under The Full Moon

loser with every passing mile, their trunks thick and twisted, almost as if they were trying to whisper secrets to me. Dappled sunlight trickled through the leaves,

of worry etched on his face. He always tried to sound enthusiastic, but beneath his bravado lay the same uncertaint

posed to be a fresh start, a way for both of us to leave behind the memories of my mother. But

ior and a sloped roof that looked like it belonged in a fairy tale. Flower boxes hung from the windows, their vibrant blooms attempting to mask the

the door open with a dull heaviness in my stomach. The moment I stepped outside, I was greeted by a blend of sc

oking around as if he were welcoming an old friend. He spread hi

dst a backdrop of towering trees that looked as if they had stood guard for ages. The sound of a cheerful cre

toward the door. He fumbled with the keys, their jingle echoing in the stilln

iture draped in dust covers. Sunlight streamed through a set of wide windows, illuminating motes of dust dancing in the air like tiny fairies. A massive stone fi

ing his bag on the couch, but as the door clicked shut behind us, a chill swept

trees that seemed older than time itself. The shadowy depths of the woods, where sunlight dared not tread, intrigued me as much

st to help but quickly found myself drifting back to the window, gazing into the inviting yet mysterious depths of the fore

through the air, mingling with the scent of fresh coffee. The town was alive with color, vibrant store fronts inviting us in, che

y of urban life, the quaint insistence of the town drew me in like a moth to a flame. As we strolled through the streets, my dad stopped e

ngs in the woods? I had heard snippets about it, local folklore whispered in hushed tones, warnings about the

ee a figure standing slightly apart from the bustle of the cafe, it was a boy with dark hair and a lean frame. He surveyed the scene with a measured gaze, and I could a

u know?" my father ask

ight. "Just someone from school, I guess." I quickly redirected my attention to my pastry,

else. He didn't smile, he simply observed, as though he were trying to decipher a puzzle only he could

gather my courage, but I couldn't shake the sense that he was somehow part of a story I had yet to understand. The way he stood there

father's voice broke through my r

y, and I felt a fleeting pang of disappointment. "I don't know yet," I admitted, avoiding the

me, glancing over my shoulder. "You'

, but beneath its picturesque surface laid layers of mystery that captivated me too. With

rooftops, blanketing the streets in a warm golden glow. I stole one last glance back at the boy, and to my surprise, he was looking at me again.

id as we walked back to the car. "I t

hile Silver Hollow had charming exteriors, it concealed deeper stories beneath its surface. I felt a connection to the woods behind