December 20, 1824
Havensburg Town
Mill Street
The night, harsh and unforgiving wind dimmed the light post on Mill Street. It started from a shade of yellowish white to a rotting lemon. The frozen road was melting into a liquid muddy path, enough to form several accidents in your head. Although, the whole avenue was dark and empty in the evening of the 20th day of December, Rosetta would wrap her hood further into the heat. She was sitting on the bench under the dimmed light post, the newspaper in hand.
“Margaretta Bennett is the young maiden with rich milky beige-curled locks, and warm hazel eyes. I have always seen her purchasing in that old-fashioned store I work in. Her eyes would narrow in confusion whenever Rorie blabbers the background history behind his antique items. She had always appeared on behalf of her naïvetés and impeccability.” She inaudibly spoke to herself. Her apprehensions weren’t for the missing girls in the newspaper; she was worried for herself despite her familiarity with one of them.
Her head shifted upwards to watch merchants leaving their edifice. The corners of her eyes wrinkled, a frown forming upon her lips. You could hear her silently taking deep breaths, creating a smoky fog before her face. The merchants were closing their shops, leaving the street slightly darken with only the light post beneath us.
She crumpled the newspaper in her mere small hands. “The moon, seamlessly round and full hides beneath the clouds. I must leave and return home before the clouds drop their tears upon my cheeks.” She murmured to herself, in a soft whisper. Lifting herself up, she held her knitted bag in her hands before walking away from the light post.
Sounds of clanking boots can be heard against the melting cold path. Rosetta shivered in slight distress and halted her steps midway. Her face tilted to the side and observed from her peripheral vision. A dark shadow loomed at the corner.
No one was there.
It must have been her imagination. It must be, but it’s not certain. It was tremendously loud and clear like clashing waves contrary to rocks on a steep cliff.
She lifted the latch once she reached the small structure of her home which was covered in branches, imperceptible to the human eye in the dark night. ‘These must be clipped in daylight.’ She thought to herself before entering her cinnamon-scented home. She lived in a small cottage in the woods. Her mother had died due to a severe sickness that also caused her father’s life. She was turned in to her grandmother no less than three winters ago. The tragedy did not simply affect her mental health; she also had to face the abusive and unpleasant nature of her only living relative towards her.
YOU ARE READING
Untold Identity
Horor"11 ladies from ages 15 to 25 years old have been reported missing for the last four weeks. Investigators suspect that they are all connected to a single killer. " Rosetta Clarke is a 16-year-old who was sent to live with her spiteful grandmother af...
