The Unchosen Mate

For a city that had experienced scandal and secrets, the evening was especially still. The trees were still and the whispering winds were still, but the quiet seemed to upset even the most tough residents of Millfield. The world seemed to be holding its breath, expecting something nobody could forecast.

The evening was for Rachel Ward, a former well-known reporter now employed at the little Millfield Gazette, just like the numerous others she had passed in her tiny room.

But tonight something was about to alter everything she believed she knew about life, death, and the truth. This would present a challenge.

After a scandal of her own, Rachel had moved from the big city in search of a more quiet life. She had been in Millfield for almost a year.

Millfield seemed like the ideal spot to reset as her career had failed and her marriage had driven her close to the edge, with its quiet streets and sluggish life. She was still wrong, however. Millfield wasn't still. It was haunted-old tragedies, secrets, and ghosts that had not been really resolved.

Among those secrets was the unexplained murder of Emma Turner, a young lady who had gone missing five years ago but was later found buried in a shallow grave only a mile beyond the village.

Though she had been declared a murder victim, no one had been taken into custody. None had ever come near the truth. Not long after she arrived, Rachel became intrigued by the case. Millfield had been haunted for years by the tale of Emma Turner. Being a reporter, Rachel could not avoid delving further in search of the reality that no one seemed willing to face. Still, the more she looked the more the case started to elude her hands.

Still, something had recently changed with the case. An anonymous letter postmarked Millfield arrived in Rachel's mailbox with no return address. Rachel wasn't sure, but inside the envelope was one sheet of paper stained with something that looked like blood. Its message was straight, ward but corpse; I could tell you did kill Emma Turner; then they will be revealed. It was signed; "The Voice from the Grave." Trying to make sense of it, Rachel had gone over the letter many times. Naturally, she had reached out to the cops, but they had ignored her call as a hit. Clear when he addressed her was the sheriff of the city, Greg Matthews. "Dreams are rubbish, Rachel. This city has progressed beyond that.

Emma Turner has passed away in the past. Let it remain there. Rachel couldn't, though. She felt that this letter, this message, was a pointer to something more as she knew something wasn't right. That's how she found herself outside the old graveyard on the town's border, the wind gnawing at her skin as she stared at the towering monuments. The air felt thick, electric with a presence she was unable to justify. Off in the background stands the little chapel of St. Mary's looming spire swept long shadows across the darkening sky.

The cemetery had long been a serene spot, a last resting place for those who had passed, but tonight it felt different. Rachel wasn't by herself. She could sense it.

She shivered as she moved leisurely toward the entrance of the cemetery, where an enormous oak tree loomed. Its twisted roots reached deeply into the ground; the tree had been there for centuries. But Rachel's heart started to run faster as she moved closer. Something she hadn't expected was a freshly dug grave at the base of the oak. As if it had only been filled, she stopped to look at the mound of upset earth, the sides of the graveyard yet loose and disturbed. The strong aroma of moist earth paralyzed her, and her stomach flipped at the idea of what might lie below.