The Terschelling Murder

Chapter Two: The return

The ferry rocked gently on the waves as it made its way towards Terschelling. The low hum of the engine and the distant cries of seagulls filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil in Robert's mind. He sat alone on the upper deck, staring at the small, crumpled note in his hand. The note was the last thing they found with his mother, the cryptic message haunting his every thought: "Remember what you've done."Robert's grip tightened around the note, his knuckles turning white. He hadn't been back to Terschelling in years, not since he left for the city to chase his dreams. Now, he was returning for his mother's funeral, a trip he never imagined he'd have to make under such gruesome circumstances.

Robert was a tall man in his early thirties, with dark hair that curled slightly at the ends and a strong jawline that was now clenched with emotion. His blue eyes, usually sharp and full of determination, were clouded with sorrow and confusion. He wore a simple black coat, its collar turned up against the brisk sea air, and jeans that had seen better days. His once confident stride was replaced with a hesitant, heavy step as he paced the deck.The salty air stung his eyes, or maybe it was the tears he refused to shed. His mother had always been his anchor, the one constant in a life filled with chaos and uncertainty. Her death was a blow he couldn't quite comprehend, and the note added a layer of confusion and guilt that he didn't know how to process.

As the ferry drew closer to the island, Robert's mind raced with memories of his childhood, the small, close-knit community, and the secrets he had tried so hard to leave behind. The thought of facing those memories, and the people who knew him best, filled him with a mixture of dread and determination. He needed answers, and he knew the only way to get them was to confront his past head-on.

The island came into view, its familiar silhouette both comforting and ominous. Robert took a deep breath, steeling himself for what lay ahead. He folded the note carefully and tucked it into his jacket pocket, the weight of it pressing against his heart. The ferry's horn blared, signaling their arrival. Robert stood up, feeling the pull of the island beneath his feet. As he disembarked, he approached the desk clerk who managed the entries to the island.

The clerk, an older man with a weathered face and suspicious eyes, looked up and his expression hardened. "What are you doing here?" he asked, his tone cold. "How dare you come back after all these years?" Robert swallowed hard. "It's my mother's funeral," he replied, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside. The clerk's expression softened slightly, but his eyes remained wary. "I heard about that. Terrible thing to happen. But you should know, it's just one of many strange events on this island recently."

Robert's curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean, strange events? What's been happening?"The clerk shook his head, a hint of a grim smile on his lips. "You'll find out soon enough," he said cryptically. "Just be careful, Robert. Terschelling isn't the same place you left."Feeling a chill run down his spine, Robert nodded and turned away, making his way toward his old home. The island felt different, shrouded in an uneasy quiet. As he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him, waiting.

The path to his childhood home was overgrown, the familiar landmarks now twisted and warped by time and neglect. The trees seemed to lean in closer, their gnarled branches reaching out like skeletal hands. The once-welcoming cottages now appeared abandoned and foreboding, their windows dark and empty, like eyes watching his every move.As Robert approached his old home, the memories flooded back with a visceral intensity. He could almost hear the echoes of his mother's laughter, the warmth of the hearth, the safety he once felt within these walls. But now, the house stood as a haunting shell of its former self. The paint was peeling, the windows were cracked, and the door hung ajar, swaying slightly in the breeze.