Watcher in the Dark

Chapter 10: The Lost and Found

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds of Ethan's apartment, a stark contrast to the suffocating fog from the night before. He rubbed his eyes, his head still heavy from the restless sleep that had followed his panic attack. The realization that the fog wasn't some supernatural force had offered him some comfort, but it hadn't wiped away the deeper sense of unease. Something was still wrong in Nautical Heights, something beyond just the fog.

As he got dressed, his mind churned with thoughts of the community, of Sarah's warnings, and the strange behavior of the residents. There was more to uncover, and today, he planned to dig deeper.

The town's public records office was his first stop. He needed to know more about the history of Nautical Heights-the land, the people, and especially the couple who had disappeared over the cliff. But part of him couldn't shake the feeling that there was something he had missed at the guardhouse. He had spent so much time focused on the cameras and the strange happenings outside that he hadn't really taken stock of what was inside.

The lost and found.

He remembered seeing the box in the corner of the guardhouse, filled with forgotten or discarded items-things left behind by residents or previous guards. Maybe it was nothing, but it nagged at him. The couple who had disappeared over the cliff-Tom and Elise Whittaker-what if they had left something behind? Something the community didn't want anyone to find?

After a quick breakfast, Ethan grabbed his jacket and headed back to the guardhouse, determined to take a closer look.

The guardhouse was quiet when Ethan arrived. The fog from the night before had lifted, leaving the streets of Nautical Heights bathed in a soft, hazy sunlight. But even in the daylight, the sense of unease lingered. The thick air, the stillness of the streets-it felt like the whole community was holding its breath, waiting.

Ethan stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a soft click. The familiar hum of the security monitors greeted him, their screens showing the empty streets and houses of the neighborhood. Everything seemed normal. Too normal.

Ignoring the cameras for now, Ethan turned his attention to the small corner of the guardhouse where the lost and found box sat. It was an unremarkable thing-just a cardboard box, dusty and forgotten, filled with odds and ends left behind by people who probably didn't care enough to come back for them.

He knelt down, pulling the box toward him. His fingers sifted through the contents-old sunglasses, tangled phone chargers, a set of car keys with a long-faded keychain. He found empty wallets, discarded receipts, a few mismatched earbuds. Everything seemed random, mundane.

But then, buried beneath the clutter, his hand brushed against something different. Something older, with the feel of worn paper.

Ethan pulled it out carefully-a small, weathered notebook. The cover was plain, the edges frayed, but as he flipped it open, his heart skipped a beat. Scrawled on the inside cover were two names: Tom and Elise Whittaker.

His pulse quickened as he flipped through the pages. The notebook was filled with hurried, frantic handwriting-Tom's, judging by the way the entries shifted between panic and clarity. The first few pages were mundane, recounting their move to Nautical Heights, the excitement of settling into the house near the cliffs. But as the entries progressed, the tone changed.

Entry 1: "Fog was thick again tonight. Elise says it's getting worse. I feel it too-like it's pressing down on the house, suffocating us. We've been hearing things in the mist. Voices. Shadows. But there's no one there. Maybe it's just the wind."

Entry 3: "More fog tonight. Could barely see the road when I came home from work. Elise is getting paranoid-says the fog feels alive, like it's watching us. We've been hearing whispers again, but no one else seems to notice. I asked the neighbors, but they just gave me these weird looks, told me to keep the curtains closed at night. It's like everyone here is hiding something."