ELLIE
The door of my room clicks shut behind me with a soft yet resolute finality, and as it does, an enveloping silence rushes in to fill the space around me, wrapping me in a cocoon. I drop my well-worn bag onto the small, weathered table in the corner of the room, its slight wobble echoing my unsettled thoughts, and I replay my brief encounter with Sheriff Caleb Hart in vivid detail, trying to dissect every nuance and inflection of our exchange.
Overthink much?
His voice, steady and composed, cut through the cordial exterior I had attempted to maintain with the precision of a finely honed blade. "How long do you plan to stay in Moonhaven?"
Simple, straightforward enough; he spoke the kind of words that seemed polite yet held an underlying current of intrigue.
Or was it annoyance?
Across the table, his assessing gaze held secrets that I could easily miss, a sharpness that betrayed little—no flicker of excitement, not even a hint of curiosity at my presence. It was almost clinical how quickly he concluded our interaction,wrapping it up as neatly as if he were closing a book upon a chapter that had long since been decided.
His professionalism wrapped around him like a tailored suit, all smooth edges and purposeful movements, akin to a well-rehearsed dance I had witnessed from afar. But beneath that polished surface, I sensed something lurking—something that felt as if the welcome mat had been yanked back just as I attempted to find my footing, leaving me momentarily unbalanced.
An internal dialogue stirs within me like an old frenemy, as familiar as the sound of my own breath: I must have started on the wrong foot. Maybe I was too eager, too loud, or perhaps I came off as intrusive and out of place in this quaint, tight-knit community.
Or maybe he just doesn’t like to be in the presence of a big woman more than he has to.
Fantastic. I move to a charming New England town and my inner critic books a nonrefundable stay.
That reality settled uncomfortably in my mind—perhaps the town’s best-kept secrets weren't meant to be unearthed by a bulky interloper armed only with a notepad and shrill ambition.
I chuckle dryly at myself, the sound awkward and misplaced in the stillness of the room—wrestling your thoughts into oblivion is a tiresome affair, draining in its endless loop."Guess I should've worn a less conspicuous smile," I mutter softly to the silence, the words bouncing off the faded walls before fading into the ether.
Of course, the sheriff likely saw me as an unwelcome nuisance, an unintentional smudge on the pristine canvas of normalcy that Moonhaven and its residents so diligently strive to cultivate.
My mind wanders through its own playlist of self-recriminations, with each track clearer than the last. My motherwould have called them foolish tendencies—reminders of how I should behave.
Speak less, blend in, become invisible until needed.
Which is all the time, really.
Yet here I am, still vigorously grappling to peel away the layers of conditioning that insist I am either too much or never enough. Memories flood back from that old episode in New York—the panel discussion, the laughter that ricocheted off the walls, and each moment plays out like a skipping record, an unfortunate reminder of the past.
Is Moonhaven merely a new stage for the same old humiliating script, a fresh setting where I could reenact my deepest insecurities?
I would like to formally apologize to my brain for letting it run unsupervised.
My reflection in the darkened window grins mirthlessly back at me, a silhouette of apprehension and determination.
"What are you doing, Ellie? Searching for stories or merely grasping at the remnants of who you thought you had outgrown?" I ask myself, the stillness amplifying the weight of my self-doubt.
But despite the gnawing anxieties, Moonhaven beckons with a tantalizing promise of forgotten tales waiting to be uncovered. Despite myself, I can’t help but lean against that promise like a moth drawn to the flicker of a light, unable to resist the pull.
I signed nothing here granting me immunity to insecurity; it will find me wherever I go, always trailing just a thought behind like a shadow that refuses to let go.
Still, deep down, I hold onto the flickering hope that this town will offer me something more than I have dared to expect. Moonhaven was meant to be neutral ground, a haven for revelation rather than a stage for rejection. All I need to dois summon the courage to convince myself to believe in that possibility.
The chillof the small-town library wraps around me like a snug, yet unyielding shroud, its sterile silence enveloping me in a cocoon of tranquility that is exactly what I need in this moment. In this place, the dust motes swirl lazily in the thin shafts of light that filter through the tall, narrow windows, casting a muted glow over the wooden furniture.
Records, archives, timelines—this is all I’ll allow myself to delve into. The surface-level stuff, where secrets have a way of hiding beneath layers of mundane details, safe from prying eyes and unwanted revelations.
"Miss Carter, right?" The librarian, a woman who appears far too young for the overly frumpy cardigan she sports, raises a single eyebrow in my direction as I approach the long counter, a relic of a bygone era with its smooth, polished oak surface.
"Ellie will do,” I reply, my voice steady as I try to project an air of nonchalance. “I’m embarking on a venture into the past,” I add with a smile that feels unpracticed but sincere, hoping it communicates my intention of being an “inoffensive researcher” and not the “prying journalist” that some might perceive me to be.
The woman nods in easy understanding. “The archives are back there," she says, gesturing toward a doorway that leads to the darker recesses of the library, where knowledge awaits in the quiet shadows.