GHOST CABIN

Part I

On a balmy autumn evening where the faint sunlight bathed the old city in crimson, Detective Ayala stood up on the platform watching how the express train smoke approached slowly from the forests. He was a discreet and observant man, devoted solely to his greatest passion; unmasking the mysteries that surrounded the most sinister crimes. He wasn't a very common detective either. He always dressed with a long alabaster suede coat, high leather boots and a tricorn hat, worn out over the years. You could tell he was an old soul from the sea. It seemed that something, I could not say what, preserved him from the years. His appearance was youthful and ethereal. He called on sight, no matter how hard he tried to go unnoticed.

Before the train started again, he glanced one last time at the hiding sun from his cabin window, staining his pearl-grey eyes, red. Thereupon, he lit a cigarette, a little vice he had when he was on his way to a new case to solve. But the difference this time was that that was going to be his last case before retiring. He had been in his profession for years and had solved countless cases, but his years of experience demanded him to rest. However, he was still a curious soul craving for new experiences. So he decided to ditch his career path with the mystery of the legend of the Scarlet Ship. A twisted story full of secrets that he vowed to solve before leaving his profession. And for that, he had to return to his homeland, which he left behind with his first case in 1864.

With the first drag on the cigarette, he let the bitter smoke immerse him in his own thoughts. And so, the whistle of the express train marked the departure to Moonvelt; a small town hidden by fog and northern cliffs that overlooked white sand beaches. A ghost town solely known for its bloody legend, soon to be brought to light.

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