---
**1. The Antique Shop**
Rain slithered down the windows of *Blackthorn Antiques*, distorting the glow of gas lamps into watery ghosts. Lila Hart pressed her palm against the fogged glass, her reflection a pale smudge against the darkness. The shop's sign creaked in the wind, the sound like a warning.
"Why did I even come here?" she muttered, shaking rainwater from her sleeves.
The bell ring as she stepped inside, the scent of aged paper and cedar wrapping around her. The shop was a full of curiosities—dusty clocks with frozen hands, porcelain dolls missing eyes, and shelves of books bound in cracked leather.
At the counter, an old man with a patch over one eye polished a tarnished pocket watch. He didn't look up.
"Looking for something specific, miss?" His voice was gravel, rough with disuse.
Lila hesitated. "I'm not sure."
Her fingers brushed a silver locket in a glass case. It was delicate, engraved with swirling vines—and eerily familiar.
"That one," she said suddenly. "How much for the locket?"
The shopkeeper's good eye flicked to her. "Ah. That's not for sale."
"Everything in here has a price."
"Not that." He leaned closer, and said
"It was left here twenty years ago. The woman who dropped it off said the right person would come for it."
He tilted his head. "You got a name, girl?"
"Lila. Lila Hart."
Something unreadable passed over his face. Without another word, he unlocked the case and slid the locket toward her.
"Take it. No charge."
The metal was ice-cold against her skin. When she pried it open, her heart miss a beat.
Inside was a faded photograph of a couple—a young woman who looked like her, and a man with sharp features and shadowed eyes. Scratched beneath it was a single word:
RUN.
---
**2. The Stranger in the Rain**
Lila stumbled back into the storm, the locket burning a hole in her pocket. The streets of Hollowbrook were nearly empty, the cobblestones slick beneath her boots.
"Who were those people? Why does this feel like mine?"
A prickle crawled up her spine.
She was being watched.
She spun around.
At the mouth of an alley, a man stood beneath a flickering streetlamp. Tall, dressed in a long black coat, his face obscured by the brim of his hat. Rain dripped from his silhouette like ink.
"Hello?" Lila called, her voice swallowed by the wind.
The man didn't move.
Then—slowly—he lifted his head.
Her breath caught.
Eyes like a winter storm. Pale, piercing, knowing.
"Do I know you?" she demanded.
A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "You used to."
Before she could react, he melted into the shadows.
---
**3. The Locked Journal**
Back in her apartment above the town's only bookstore, Lila spread the locket's contents on her desk. The key she'd found inside was small, tarnished silver, stamped with the initials, E.H.
Her hands shook as she pulled out the journal she'd inherited from her grandmother—a thick, leather-bound thing with a rusted lock.
The key fit perfectly.
The first page bore a single sentence in elegant, frantic script:
"If you're reading this, then he's found you."
Lila's pulse roared in her ears. She flipped to the next page.
---
**4. The Hidden Past**
October 31st
I shouldn't have fallen for him. Elias Holloway was never just a man. They warned me, but I didn't listen. Now the town whispers that he's done it again—another girl missing, another 'accident' near the old clocktower. But I know the truth.
He doesn't love them.
He *collects* them.
And I'm next.
---
**5. The Knock at the Door**
A sharp rap at her apartment door jolted Lila from the journal.
"Who's there?" she called, her heart was beating so fast.
No answer.
She crept forward, peering through the peephole.
The hallway was empty.
But on the floor lay a single black rose—and a note in familiar, elegant handwriting:
"You shouldn't have opened that journal, Lila."
---
**6. The Black Rose**
Lila stared at the rose on her doorstep. Its petals were too perfect, too black—like it had been dipped in ink. The note in her hand smelled faintly of cedar and something metallic. Blood?
Her fingers trembled as she shut the door and locked it. Twice.
"You shouldn't have opened that journal, Lila."
The words echoed in her skull. She knew that handwriting. She'd seen it before—in the locket, in the journal.
*Elias Holloway.*
A gust of wind rattled the windows. The storm hadn't let up. If anything, it had gotten worse, howling through the streets like something alive.
Lila grabbed the journal and flipped to the next page.
---
**7. The Second Entry**
The handwriting changed here—less frantic, more resigned.
November 1st
He came to me last night. I thought it was a dream at first—the way he stood at the foot of my bed, watching me sleep. But then he spoke. 'You were always the clever one,' he said. 'That's why I chose you.'*
I tried to scream. No sound came out.
He smiled. 'Don't worry, little liar. I'll make you forget again.'
Then he kissed me.
And I forgot everything.
Lila's breath hitched. Forget?
A memory flickered—
—A man's lips against hers, cold as winter.
—A whisper: "This time, stay forgotten."
—Then nothing.
She shuddered. "Was that real?"
---
**8. The Clocktower**
The journal's next page was a sketch of Hollowbrook's clocktower, its face frozen at midnight. Beneath it, scribbled in haste:
"He waits there. Every night. If you remember, run. If you don't… you'll end up like the others."
Lila's pulse pounded in her ears. She *had* to see it.
She grabbed her coat and stepped back into the storm.
The streets were empty. The rain had turned to mist, clinging to her skin like ghostly fingers. The clocktower loomed ahead, its silhouette jagged against the moonlit sky.
Then she saw him.
Elias Holloway stood at the base of the tower, his black coat blending into the night. He wasn't wearing a hat now. His face was pale, his eyes gleaming like ice.
"You came." His voice carried on the wind, smooth and dangerous.
Lila's feet rooted to the spot. "What do you want?"
He stepped closer. "What I've always wanted. You."
A memory slammed into her—
—Her, years younger, standing in this exact spot.
—Him, holding out a hand. 'Promise you'll remember me.'
—Her, nodding. 'I promise.'
She gasped. "I… I knew you."
Elias smiled. "You loved me."
Then the clocktower's bell rang—a single, deafening chime.
Midnight.
---
**4. The Missing Girls**
The sound snapped Lila out of her daze. She stumbled back.
"The journal—it said you hurt people. That you 'collect' them."
Elias's smile faded. "Is that what you think?"
He reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of photographs. Each one showed a different girl—all with hollow eyes, all standing in front of the clocktower.
"They were all like you," he said softly.
"They all remembered *something. And they all ran."
Lila's throat went dry. "What happened to them?"
Elias's gaze darkened. "The town happened. Hollowbrook doesn't like secrets being dug up."
A branch snapped behind her.
Lila turned.
Three figures stood in the mist—their faces blurred, their hands outstretched.
"Lila Hart," one hissed. "You weren't supposed to remember."
---
**10. The Choice**
Elias moved faster than should've been possible, shoving Lila behind him. "Run."
She didn't hesitate.
She ran—past the clocktower, through the graveyard, her breath ragged. Behind her, footsteps pounded. Voices whispered.
"You can't outrun us."
"You'll forget again."
Then Elias was beside her, gripping her wrist. "This way."
He yanked her into a hidden alley, pressing her against the wall. His body shielded hers, his breath warm against her ear.
"Listen carefully," he whispered. "The town *wants* you to forget. It feeds on memories. But you—you're different. You *keep* remembering."
Lila's heart raced. "Why?"
Elias's thumb brushed her cheek. "Because you're mine. And I don't let go of what's mine."
Then the shadows moved.
The figures were back.
And this time, they weren't alone.
---
To Be Continued…