The Vanishing Girls Of Willow Creek (Willow Creek, #1)

Chapter One

A/N: Picture is roughly what bakery looks like.

Change is hard at first, messy in the middle, and gorgeous at the end. - Unknown

In the quiet town of Willow Creek, life was seemingly idyllic. Neighbors waved to each other as they mowed their lawns, children played in the streets until the streetlights flickered on, and families gathered for barbecues on warm summer evenings.

Life was simple and predictable... until, it wasn't.

Willow Creek changed irrevocably when it happened – when Miranda disappeared into thin air, taking with her the illusion of safety and innocence that once defined our sleepy town.

In the heart of Willow Creek, there existed a tale that whispered through the streets like a haunting melody.

On one side of town, where the houses stood slightly run-down and residents lived in RVs or trailers, a sense of neglect hung heavy in the air.

But on the West side of town, a stark contrast emerged; picket fences lined lush green yards, and two-story houses stood proudly side by side.

Nestled in the middle of this divided community was where I resided, next door to my lifelong friend Jonathan Reeves. Our bond was forged in childhood innocence and strengthened by shared experiences as outcasts amidst the bustling high school social hierarchy.

It all began with Miranda Hutchins, a girl whose radiance outshone even the brightest stars in our humble town. With flowing blonde locks and sparkling green eyes that held secrets untold, she captivated hearts effortlessly. 

Yet for me and Jonathan, Miranda's allure held no power over our peculiar world.

As misfits who found solace in each other's company, we embraced our eccentricities with pride. While others sought validation through popularity and conformity, we revelled in our uniqueness within our own little bubble of oddity.

Miranda's presence loomed large over us like an unattainable ideal—a queen bee surrounded by admirers seeking her favour. But her gaze never lingered on us; instead, it pierced through with mocking disdain for our unconventional ways.

I found comfort in solitude and introspection—drawn to mysteries and darknesses that others shunned. My fascination with death and other enigmas only deepened my reputation as the town weirdo—a label I wore with defiant acceptance.

Jonathan understood me like no other—a kindred spirit navigating life's complexities alongside me. Our bond transcended mere friendship; it was a sanctuary from judgmental gazes and whispered taunts that echoed through school hallways.

Miranda took pleasure in insulting me alongside her entourage of followers, using every opportunity to belittle me for being different. While most teenagers indulged in parties and social gatherings, I found comfort within my mother's bakery or immersed in books within the confines of my room.

I remember the day Miranda Hutchins first spoke to me. It was a crisp autumn afternoon, the leaves rustling in the wind as I sat on a bench outside of the local elementary/middle school, lost in my own thoughts. She sauntered over, her entourage of followers trailing behind her like obedient puppies.

"Hey, Harley," she purred, her voice dripping with honeyed malice. "I heard you like to hang out with Jonathan. What's up with that? Are you two dating or something?"

I glanced up at her, my expression impassive. "We're just friends," I replied quietly, hoping she would take the hint and leave me alone.

Miranda smirked, her green eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well, he could do so much better than hanging around with a weirdo like you."Her words fell flat, and I refused to show any emotion. Instead, I simply nodded and went back to staring at the ground beneath my feet.