Jack sat in his apartment in its dim lighting staring at the laptop screen with open case files and frustration etched across his face. He ran his hand through his chestnut brown wavy hair and his deep brown eyes focused on the location of the little girls' disappearances at Shoreside city park. The descriptions of the three girls were in front of him. Jack found himself rereading them hoping something would click into place. Surely a similarity to something they were last doing could be a clue as to where these girls ended up. Yes, they were all in the park with their mothers, but there had to be more. Honestly, Jack knew the only clue that these girls were at the park in the first place, apart from all three mothers reporting them being taken, personal items of the girls were found: a shoe being Anna's. Drew's scarf and Leah's watch. He wasn't sure if these were left as calling cards or if the girls or the girls lost them in the struggle, but the whole thing didn't sit right with detective Jack Marshall.
Jack closed his laptop, rubbing his eyes, his body was tired, but his mind was exhausted. The constant thoughts filled his mind, theories that filled each corner of his mind. Jack wasn't just solving this case; in his mind he had another little missing girl he thought of. One that wasn't ever found and to this day haunts him. Jack became a detective in hopes of solving the case that was so poorly managed by the detective at the time. A now retired detective who seemed to live his retirement without care or worry about that little girl.
Jack became a detective when his friend lost his young daughter in a kidnapping when he was in his twenties. Jack wasn't a detective at the time but was working toward that career path. A newly determined man to solve the evils that came across his desk and caught all criminals. It killed Jack to this day that the perpetrator was never apprehended. A fact that bothered Jack to his very core. Now a thirty-two-year-old and haunted by his friends' pain. Even though Jack knows that the little girl is long gone, he still hunts for the truth. Hoping that every case he solves will shine light and help him see something that was missed by the detective. Macy Stevens was like a niece to him. She was always eager to see Uncle Jake, and he loved to play with her and spoil her. His friend spiraled like any parent would and his marriage to his long-time girlfriend was over two years after Macy was taken. Jack watched his friend stop caring and waste away to a hollow shell. His former self was now a ghost. Jack lost a niece and his best friend, and it killed him. His heart was heavy with that pain. The pain is his determination to find any missing person.
Jack sighs, his broad shoulders slumped as he slowly stands, his tall frame casting a shadow over his bedroom. The darkness it casts matches the void of stress that fills him daily. He knows these girls are as good as dead, and he can't do a damn thing about it. All he can do is try and race against the clock. Hoping that maybe, by some miracle, one or two will survive if they are lucky. Jack hopes to find anyone who may have caught a glimpse of the girls. As of now, there were no witnesses or any real suspects. Jack was well aware at this stage that there were just parents that had lost their daughters.
No one had come forward with any information and the parents didn't seem to have any idea who would take them either. Jack had already started the standard procedure of looking into all close family, friends and extended family, hoping to find anything that could guide him in the direction of where these little girls could be. Babysitters and teachers were questioned. Now cousins and friends of the family were on the list for questioning. They work tirelessly through the list hoping one of them could know more or was to blame. Whoever took these girls didn't leave a trail and seemed not to be connected to the family, which was certainly a lot less common than people realized.
Jack walked around his old apartment, throwing the stress ball he often played with while trying to solve cases. Tossing it up and catching it while going over what he knew already. Knowing full and well tomorrow, the parents would be at the station to ask him what they had found and all he could offer them was. "We are trying our best, we are asking questions and collecting evidence." He wanted to be able to tell them he had a lead at least, that they were on the hunt for that lead anything more than the bull shit generic answer he knew did nothing to ease the stress and fear they were feeling at every moment. Jack took a deep breath trying to calm his loud mind. The thoughts swirled loudly around his mind, loudly repeating the facts, and the girls' faces flashed in his mind, serving as a guilty motivation. A force propelling him into a determined madness. He knew he would have to admit soon that these girls were likely dead. Saying these to the parents felt cruel and unnecessary. Hope kept them from ending up like his friend Tom.
Jack threw the stress ball onto his double bed and walked into his cramped, outdated kitchen. Opening his off-white fridge with a magnetic photo of Macy and her parents on the door. Tom and his now ex-wife Diane looked so happy with the then baby Macy. Jack grabbed a beer and popped the lid off, knocking it back, savoring the taste that slid over his taste buds. It wouldn't take away his stress, but self-medicating with beer was more of a hobby at this point. He didn't have time for many others. His work consumed his every waking moment. It wasn't easy trying to solve homicides or missing cases that almost always became homicides. Jack catches his reflection in the window of the kitchen. Seeing his face with a beard starting to grow, his hair tousled, and his face looked more tired than usual. The past was defiantly weighing heavy on his mind during this case. He needed to go do something productive. Sitting in this apartment staring at the case files wasn't going to solve the case. It was around 11pm and Jack knew going to a crime scene alone wasn't standard, but he wanted to go search the area again. His gut feeling that the answer was there gnawed at him.
Jack was dressed in his standard dark denim and black T-shirt, throwing on his watch his mother got him and the old brown leather jacket that he'd had since he went to college. He laced up his black leather boots. Planning a stroll around the infamous park hoping to come across anything leading him to the kids' locations or who might have taken them. Maybe he'll find a hiding place where the perpetrator watched the kids before kidnapping them, or maybe the kidnapper left something behind that was missed before. It was dark, but the park was a brightly lit park for regular sports events, hoping to deter the regular crime that seemed drawn to this park.
After arriving at Shoreside Park, Jack walked to the areas where the items were found. He looked to see if he could find a sewer or water system entrance large enough to accommodate a child and big enough to fit an adult too. He found nothing that stood out to him. No obvious blaring signs like broken foliage or muddy boot prints. The person who took these girls knew this area well and that worried Jack to no end. The fact that not only was he desperate to find these girls, he was fighting the clock and a seasoned kidnapper and serial killer if they were all killed.
Jack rubbed his temples and sighed heavily, the dark night sky was deep and speckled with lights. The park was well lit up in most parts except for areas close to where the girls' items were found. While Jack ran and threw various possibilities in his head, he noticed the darker parts of the surrounding bushes in the gardens were thicker, mostly untouched and left to grow wild except in one section.
Jack walked closer, looking to see why this area had been kept when it hit him, the sewer system. The pipes here were for maintenance and had pipes large enough to accommodate a fully grown adult. These pipes also run under the whole city. It was a long shot, Jack knew that, but it would explain why these kids were never seen when taken and how they stayed unseen. Jack took a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air, chilling his lungs, calming the storm that was brewing in his gut and mind as he wondered where in the sewer system under the whole city the kids could be.
The inside of the car had a smooth leather interior and William sat in a navy-blue suit. It was pressed to perfection and his crisp white shirt contrasted with the blue hue of the expensive suit that William wore. William was looking at his daughter, a small smile playing on his lips like a cat that caught the mouse as it was about to play. The look made Ivy shudder. Her skin pricked, and the air felt heavy and felt like it was buzzing. It was a strange feeling in the car with them, one she didn't quite understand and didn’t like.She looked at the streets they passed with herbal shops and boutiques, fruit markets and other small places to fulfill the various needs of the people that lived on Mayfair Island. The whole Island was relaxed and self-sufficient, it seemed that people rarely left Mayfair and Ivy wondered why so many seemed hell-bent on staying on this Island. What was it about this place that kept them content to stay here their whole life? Ivy couldn't help but wonder why s
Lillian knelt on the ground. Her pregnant belly was getting bigger. She felt the weight of the child growing in her womb. Lillian also felt her power double, a clear sign that the baby that grew in her was powerful too. The wavelength of the baby's power wasn't like Lillian's, it was closer to Williams and that unsettled her, she wasn’t sure why. There were some of the wavelengths that matched her own and she hoped that nurturing the child right would make the child closer to Lillian in nature. There was a long past between Lillian and William. It spans as far back to the age of six. In her heart she knew he wasn't exactly a good warlock, one that often delved into the darker magic. Not like hexes or banishment or a light curse. Something that made his wavelength low and dark. His aura was murky and hard to read, filled with images of death. She wasn’t sure what she had seen and sometimes it was loss mistranslated, corrupted through the person’s pain. She often tried to get to know a
Ivy was still in disbelief at William claiming that witchcraft was real and was used daily. Her mind raced at what he had meant. She walked through the gate of her aunt Freda’s house with a sand brick and green window framed home matched with green fencing and large bushed of various shrubs and a greenhouse filled with a multitude of plants from what ivy could see from the spot she stood. She wandered up to the door unsure if she should knock or just walk in. Her dad’s family had what they called an open-door policy meaning they never knocked and always just waltzed in without a care. Their home was her home, and it was comforting to know she was always welcome. Her dads’ parents and brother accepted Ivy as Dylan’s child too.She heard of kids her were adopted or unions not being accepted and ivy was truly blessed to never have to experience that kind of heart destroying rejection. She always thought it weas so odd to treat the child in such a way when the kid did choose who adopted
Marie Elizabeth Owens climbed off the sailboat and stood on the shore of the island that was to be her new home, her fresh start. The Island was thick with vegetation and the sky was a crisp and deep blue that you see in the paintings in the art galleries she heard about in letters from her husband’s sister. Sinking into the pale cool sand from her wight against the loose ground. Her movements directed her toward a small shack where a man stood. His grey eyes were bold and devilish. Something about then rang to her as untrustworthy. The witch trials were murder hidden in lies. Melas Isles witch trials were still running hidden underground in the old church tunnels. It wasn’t that this was common knowledge, but Marie had lost her family to the continuing trials. Her mother, her sisters and her husband. Warlocks didn’t get accused like the witches, often surviving but Maries husband Johnas took her place as an accused to save her and their unborn child. The church had a brainwashed
Ivy looked at her aunt, her eyebrows furrowed her hands in mid-air as she tried to decide if she wanted to pick up the old leather-bound book. Worn and faded by the clasp that held it shut. It seemed thick and heavy and smelled musty and aged to match how it looked.Ivy lifted the heavy bound book a small groan as she lifted the large book out of the trunk and walked it to a table not far from them. Freda walked alongside her watching her eyes scanning, observing her every reaction, a soft knowing smile upon her face.Ivy unclasped and opened the old book. She felt a wave of energy pass onto her, her hands trembling, her eyes widened, and her heart raced. There on the first page was writing scrawled in cursive.I, Joshua Cecil Owen begin this grimoire to pass down knowledge and spells to future generations. January 26th, 1510.“Aunt Freda… What is this?”Freda smiles warmly at her niece. She opens it to a spell her eyes look between the spell and Ivy.“Our history, how we started o
Standing in her mother's outdated kitchen, Ivy took in her cream-coloured curtains with the lemon print and the orange wood cabinets. The creamy brown tiles on the floor needed new grout and a scrub she thought to herself as she moved toward the round wooden kitchen table. Ivy sat down and watched the people walk in and out of the kitchen, placing casserole dishes on the countertops or finding a place in the large double fridge. Food seemed so unimportant. Why were her mother's friends and family bringing food, she wondered watching the various casseroles being loaded into the fridge.Today was expected. Her mother having cancer meant they knew at some point she would have to say goodbye. Yet it was still a shock to her system. Her puffy eyes and tired body could only watch silently as people came in to ask, "How are you doing?"Ivy just sat there in silence, not wanting to answer. It certainly wouldn't be what people wanted to hear or care to really listen to. They knew she and Dylan
Ivy woke up to her phone vibrating against the solid red wooden side table in her childhood bedroom. The sun snuck through the purple curtains and settled a beam across the center of her room. Ivy slowly sat up, pushing the straight black strands out of her face. She checked to see William written on the screen of her cell phone."What the fuck does he want?" Ivy wondered to herself before answering, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice as she answered. "Hello William. What do you want?" Ivy answered the phone with no effort to hide her distaste for his name in her mouth."Ivy.... I know I wasn't there, but being the mayor, I can't just drop everything and go over to Shoreside city." Ivy couldn't hold back the irritated scoff that escaped her lips in response to his lies' an excuse to miss her mother's funeral. The woman he married. Even if it wasn't the best marriage, he must have loved her at some point. Otherwise, what bother with marriage at all?"William, this is total bul
The sun shone brightly. The sky was a clear bright blue, and a slight breeze that danced over the ocean delicately dancing through Ivy's hair. Yesterday's uncertainty was replaced with fear and anxiety. She had to go across the ocean to see the island where her family originated from. Ivy was happy about the opportunity to learn about her family’s history, more in depth. However, she was terrified of the trip she was about to embark on to see her aunts and other relatives.Climbing onto the boat felt like she was stepping into certain death. Her dad gently took her hand, guiding her to the indoor seats to help her forget the water that was all around them.Ivy sat next to her dad on the boat. It wasn't the newest-looking thing, but it seemed sturdy. Its red bench seats were soft and provided minimal comfort, not like that would change how Ivy felt at that moment. Ivy was feeling anxious and wished there was a flight to the island instead. That surely should be a thing now, she thought
Ivy looked at her aunt, her eyebrows furrowed her hands in mid-air as she tried to decide if she wanted to pick up the old leather-bound book. Worn and faded by the clasp that held it shut. It seemed thick and heavy and smelled musty and aged to match how it looked.Ivy lifted the heavy bound book a small groan as she lifted the large book out of the trunk and walked it to a table not far from them. Freda walked alongside her watching her eyes scanning, observing her every reaction, a soft knowing smile upon her face.Ivy unclasped and opened the old book. She felt a wave of energy pass onto her, her hands trembling, her eyes widened, and her heart raced. There on the first page was writing scrawled in cursive.I, Joshua Cecil Owen begin this grimoire to pass down knowledge and spells to future generations. January 26th, 1510.“Aunt Freda… What is this?”Freda smiles warmly at her niece. She opens it to a spell her eyes look between the spell and Ivy.“Our history, how we started o
Marie Elizabeth Owens climbed off the sailboat and stood on the shore of the island that was to be her new home, her fresh start. The Island was thick with vegetation and the sky was a crisp and deep blue that you see in the paintings in the art galleries she heard about in letters from her husband’s sister. Sinking into the pale cool sand from her wight against the loose ground. Her movements directed her toward a small shack where a man stood. His grey eyes were bold and devilish. Something about then rang to her as untrustworthy. The witch trials were murder hidden in lies. Melas Isles witch trials were still running hidden underground in the old church tunnels. It wasn’t that this was common knowledge, but Marie had lost her family to the continuing trials. Her mother, her sisters and her husband. Warlocks didn’t get accused like the witches, often surviving but Maries husband Johnas took her place as an accused to save her and their unborn child. The church had a brainwashed
Ivy was still in disbelief at William claiming that witchcraft was real and was used daily. Her mind raced at what he had meant. She walked through the gate of her aunt Freda’s house with a sand brick and green window framed home matched with green fencing and large bushed of various shrubs and a greenhouse filled with a multitude of plants from what ivy could see from the spot she stood. She wandered up to the door unsure if she should knock or just walk in. Her dad’s family had what they called an open-door policy meaning they never knocked and always just waltzed in without a care. Their home was her home, and it was comforting to know she was always welcome. Her dads’ parents and brother accepted Ivy as Dylan’s child too.She heard of kids her were adopted or unions not being accepted and ivy was truly blessed to never have to experience that kind of heart destroying rejection. She always thought it weas so odd to treat the child in such a way when the kid did choose who adopted
Lillian knelt on the ground. Her pregnant belly was getting bigger. She felt the weight of the child growing in her womb. Lillian also felt her power double, a clear sign that the baby that grew in her was powerful too. The wavelength of the baby's power wasn't like Lillian's, it was closer to Williams and that unsettled her, she wasn’t sure why. There were some of the wavelengths that matched her own and she hoped that nurturing the child right would make the child closer to Lillian in nature. There was a long past between Lillian and William. It spans as far back to the age of six. In her heart she knew he wasn't exactly a good warlock, one that often delved into the darker magic. Not like hexes or banishment or a light curse. Something that made his wavelength low and dark. His aura was murky and hard to read, filled with images of death. She wasn’t sure what she had seen and sometimes it was loss mistranslated, corrupted through the person’s pain. She often tried to get to know a
The inside of the car had a smooth leather interior and William sat in a navy-blue suit. It was pressed to perfection and his crisp white shirt contrasted with the blue hue of the expensive suit that William wore. William was looking at his daughter, a small smile playing on his lips like a cat that caught the mouse as it was about to play. The look made Ivy shudder. Her skin pricked, and the air felt heavy and felt like it was buzzing. It was a strange feeling in the car with them, one she didn't quite understand and didn’t like.She looked at the streets they passed with herbal shops and boutiques, fruit markets and other small places to fulfill the various needs of the people that lived on Mayfair Island. The whole Island was relaxed and self-sufficient, it seemed that people rarely left Mayfair and Ivy wondered why so many seemed hell-bent on staying on this Island. What was it about this place that kept them content to stay here their whole life? Ivy couldn't help but wonder why s
Jack sat in his apartment in its dim lighting staring at the laptop screen with open case files and frustration etched across his face. He ran his hand through his chestnut brown wavy hair and his deep brown eyes focused on the location of the little girls' disappearances at Shoreside city park. The descriptions of the three girls were in front of him. Jack found himself rereading them hoping something would click into place. Surely a similarity to something they were last doing could be a clue as to where these girls ended up. Yes, they were all in the park with their mothers, but there had to be more. Honestly, Jack knew the only clue that these girls were at the park in the first place, apart from all three mothers reporting them being taken, personal items of the girls were found: a shoe being Anna's. Drew's scarf and Leah's watch. He wasn't sure if these were left as calling cards or if the girls or the girls lost them in the struggle, but the whole thing didn't sit right with det
The sun shone brightly. The sky was a clear bright blue, and a slight breeze that danced over the ocean delicately dancing through Ivy's hair. Yesterday's uncertainty was replaced with fear and anxiety. She had to go across the ocean to see the island where her family originated from. Ivy was happy about the opportunity to learn about her family’s history, more in depth. However, she was terrified of the trip she was about to embark on to see her aunts and other relatives.Climbing onto the boat felt like she was stepping into certain death. Her dad gently took her hand, guiding her to the indoor seats to help her forget the water that was all around them.Ivy sat next to her dad on the boat. It wasn't the newest-looking thing, but it seemed sturdy. Its red bench seats were soft and provided minimal comfort, not like that would change how Ivy felt at that moment. Ivy was feeling anxious and wished there was a flight to the island instead. That surely should be a thing now, she thought
Ivy woke up to her phone vibrating against the solid red wooden side table in her childhood bedroom. The sun snuck through the purple curtains and settled a beam across the center of her room. Ivy slowly sat up, pushing the straight black strands out of her face. She checked to see William written on the screen of her cell phone."What the fuck does he want?" Ivy wondered to herself before answering, not bothering to hide the anger in her voice as she answered. "Hello William. What do you want?" Ivy answered the phone with no effort to hide her distaste for his name in her mouth."Ivy.... I know I wasn't there, but being the mayor, I can't just drop everything and go over to Shoreside city." Ivy couldn't hold back the irritated scoff that escaped her lips in response to his lies' an excuse to miss her mother's funeral. The woman he married. Even if it wasn't the best marriage, he must have loved her at some point. Otherwise, what bother with marriage at all?"William, this is total bul
Standing in her mother's outdated kitchen, Ivy took in her cream-coloured curtains with the lemon print and the orange wood cabinets. The creamy brown tiles on the floor needed new grout and a scrub she thought to herself as she moved toward the round wooden kitchen table. Ivy sat down and watched the people walk in and out of the kitchen, placing casserole dishes on the countertops or finding a place in the large double fridge. Food seemed so unimportant. Why were her mother's friends and family bringing food, she wondered watching the various casseroles being loaded into the fridge.Today was expected. Her mother having cancer meant they knew at some point she would have to say goodbye. Yet it was still a shock to her system. Her puffy eyes and tired body could only watch silently as people came in to ask, "How are you doing?"Ivy just sat there in silence, not wanting to answer. It certainly wouldn't be what people wanted to hear or care to really listen to. They knew she and Dylan