The House on 4th Street

Chapter 7

The sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon as I hopped on my skateboard, feeling the familiar rush of excitement as I pushed off and started gliding down the street. The cool breeze whipped through my hair as I weaved in and out of the sparse traffic, my destination clear in my mind: the town library.

As I approached the library, its imposing stone facade loomed before me, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. I slowed to a stop and dismounted my skateboard, tucking it under my arm as I made my way up the steps and through the heavy wooden doors.

Inside, the library was a haven of tranquility, the air thick with the scent of old books and the soft murmur of voices. I made my way to the history section, my eyes scanning the shelves until they landed on a book that seemed promising: "Hartville: A History."

I pulled the book from the shelf and settled into a nearby chair, flipping through the pages with eager anticipation. As I read, I was transported back in time, learning about the founding of Hartville by the early settlers, the struggles they faced in carving out a life in the untamed wilderness, and the triumphs and tragedies that had shaped the town over the years.

But as I delved deeper into the book, my excitement turned to unease. There were gaps in the town's history, mysteries left unsolved, and dark secrets lurking beneath the surface. I felt a chill run down my spine as I read about Bella's death, the circumstances surrounding it still shrouded in mystery after all these years.

Suddenly, a voice broke through my reverie, causing me to jump in surprise. I looked up to see the librarian standing before me, her kindly face creased with concern.

"Are you alright, dear?" she asked, her voice gentle.

I nodded, trying to shake off the sense of unease that had settled over me. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just... lost in thought, I guess."

The librarian smiled understandingly and patted my shoulder. "Well, don't get too lost. It's getting late, and you don't want to be out after dark."

I thanked her and quickly checked out the book before heading out into the gathering dusk. As I mounted my skateboard and started to skate home, my mind was racing with questions and possibilities. What other secrets did Hartville hold? And what role did Bella's death play in the town's dark history?

When I finally arrived home, the sun had dipped below the horizon, and the sky was painted in shades of purple and orange. I parked my skateboard in the garage and made my way inside, the unease still lingering at the edges of my consciousness.

"Hey, Mom," I called out as I entered the house, my voice echoing in the empty hallway.

My mom appeared from the kitchen where she was sitting with Fluffy, a warm smile lighting up her face. "Hey, sweetie. How was your day?"

"It was good," I replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I went to the library and did some research for a summer project."

My mom arched an eyebrow, her expression curious. "Oh? What's the project about?"

"It's about the history of Hartville," I said, deciding to keep the details of Bella's death to myself for now. "I thought it would be interesting to learn more about our town."

My mom nodded, her smile widening. "That sounds like a great idea. Hartville has a rich history, you know."

"Yeah, I'm starting to realize that," I said, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of uncovering the town's secrets.

My mom leaned against the kitchen counter, her expression thoughtful. "Speaking of history, I had an interesting day at work today," she said, her voice tinged with excitement.

I perked up, intrigued by her words. "Oh? What happened?"

"Well, you know how I recently started working at the hospital as a nurse?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with enthusiasm.

I nodded, remembering how my mom had been excited to start her new job after we moved to Hartville. "Yeah, I remember. How's it going?"

"It's going great," she said, her smile growing even wider. "Today, I had the opportunity to work in the archives, organizing and cataloging old medical records. It was fascinating to see how medicine has evolved over the years, and to learn about the people who helped shape it."

I listened intently as my mom talked about her day, her passion for her work evident in every word she spoke. As she continued, I couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in her accomplishments, and gratitude for her unwavering support.

As we talked, I couldn't help but glance towards the staircase that led up to the attic, where I had found the old photograph earlier that day. The memory sent a shiver down my spine, and I couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the story than I had initially thought.