Whispers of Midnight

faint scent of wildflowers carried by the wind. Moonhaven wasn't like the cities she had grown used to-this place moved slower, as if time itself lingere

e silhouette of Velvet Manor loomed in the distance, a sprawling estate perched atop the cliffs, casting a long shadow over the water

gripping the steering wheel tighter. "Fi

r a lucrative opportunity to ghostwrite his memoir. For someone like Amara-an underappreciated journalist by day and aspiring novelist by n

of saltwater breezes. A bakery's window showcased golden pastries, and a small bookstore bore a faded sign that read Ethereal Reads. Despite i

g gently in the breeze, creaking like an old lullaby. She grabbed her b

e?" a voice called fr

yes and a warm smile. Her graying hair was tied in a

ing a smile as she extended her

g Amara's hand firmly. "Welcome to Moonhaven. We don't get ma

ore the faint edge in Mrs. Harlow's tone, as if he

ceilings, wooden beams, and mismatched furniture. Amara's room was small but comfortable, with a window that offered a view

orway. "Velvet Manor's been there for over a century. Belonged to

ked, turning back to her

ble. "Don't let his charm fool you, though. That family's h

s. Harlow was serious or simply playing in

's talk of voices heard at midnight. Whispers that travel through the walls. Some

ix times, each strike echoing through the inn like a warning. Mrs. Harlow

erve breakfast promptly at eight. You'll need your s

the bed and sank into the armchair by the window, her eyes drawn once again to the dark silhouette of the m

now? The email had arrived out of the blue, offering no explanation beyond a brief mention of her ability to "captur

forehead against the cool glass. For a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of movemen

f away from the window. "You've been here all of

cked her belongings and prepared for dinner. She couldn't s

_____________

red polite smiles but little conversation. Mrs. Harlow's husband, a burly man with a booming laugh, regaled them with stories of

cken. "Damien Cross is the first to come back since his father passed. C

rward. "What ki

oss family was always in the papers, back in the day. But then, one

d his throat, changing the subject to the weather. But the d

as she lay in bed,

trees outside. But as the clock struck midnight, they grew loude

pounding. She strained to list

p me

e threw off the covers and crept to the window, her breath fogging the glas

mara knew the whispers