Whispers in the Dark

PART TWO: UNEARTHING SECRETS

Greta sat at her desk, the dim light of her bedside lamp casting long shadows across the pages of her journal. Her pen hovered over the blank sheet, hesitant to disturb the silence of the night. But the events of the day demanded to be recorded, to be preserved for posterity. With a determined sigh, Greta began to write, her thoughts flowing freely onto the page as she recounted her conversation with Mr. Jenkins. The old man's words echoed in her mind, stirring up memories long buried, and fears long forgotten. As she closed her journal, Greta knew she couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that there was more to be uncovered. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

The next morning found Greta at the town library, the Pikeswood Historical Archives. It was a quaint, yet imposing building nestled in the heart of the town. Its exterior, adorned with intricate stonework and ivy-clad walls, exuded an air of faded grandeur that spoke to its storied past. As Greta and Emma stepped inside, they were greeted by the warm glow of antique chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling, casting a soft golden light that danced across the polished wooden floors. The shelves lining the walls were packed with row upon row of ancient tomes and weathered manuscripts, their spines bearing the weight of centuries of history. Dust motes danced in the air, catching the light, and shimmering like tiny stars in the dimly lit room. The air was heavy with the scent of old paper and leather bindings, mingling with the faint aroma of coffee drifting in from the nearby Whispering Willow Café. Despite its age, the library retained an aura of quiet elegance, its hushed corridors offering a sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of the outside world.

Greta seated at a desk with Emma sat across from her, her brow furrowed in concentration as she sifted through a stack of dusty tomes.

"Anything yet?" Greta asked, scanning the rows of shelves for any sign of relevance.

Emma shook her head, her fingers trailing over the cracked spines of the books. "Not yet, but I'm sure we'll find something. It's just a matter of time."

Greta sighed, frustration gnawing at the edges of her patience. "I can't shake the feeling that there's something here, something we're missing."

Emma nodded in understanding, her eyes alight with determination. "Then let's keep looking. We won't stop until we find the answers we're looking for."

Together, they combed through the library's archives, their fingers tracing the faded ink of old newspaper clippings and yellowed pages. And then, buried deep within the depths of history, they found it.

"Look at this," Emma exclaimed, her voice trembling with excitement as she held up a crumbling piece of paper. "It's an article about the forest and the mansion. It dates back over a century."

Greta leaned in closer, her heart pounding in her chest as she studied the faded print. The article was dated over a century ago, its yellowed edges curling with age. As she read the words printed on the page, she felt a chill run down her spine.

The article spoke of a time long past, when the forest was teeming with life and the mansion stood proud and resplendent on its edge. But as she delved deeper, Greta's eyes widened in horror at the tales of tragedy and despair that lurked within its pages.

"It's like a piece of the puzzle," Greta murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "But there's still so much we don't know."

Emma nodded in agreement, her eyes shining with determination. "Then let's keep searching. There's bound to be more."

With renewed resolve, they returned to their task, poring over every inch of the library's archives in search of further clues.

----------

As the day drew on, Greta and Emma, so lost in their research, failed to hear Greta's phone ring. The phone then rang a second time, forcing a sense of realization back into Greta. She quickly answered the call.

It was a neighbour telling her that they had found her mother delirious out in the front of their home. With an immediate sense of urgency Greta quickly packed her belongings in her satchel.

Emma giving her a worrying glance, asked "what's the matter Greta?".

Without forming a full sentence, Greta responds "My mom. Somethings happened" and storms out of the library before Emma could respond.