Shadows in the Moonlight
The town of Ashwood, nestled deep in the Maine woods, held an air of mystery. The thick, towering pines seemed to whisper ancient secrets, their shadows cast long and dark in the glow of a rising full moon. It was under this haunting moonlight that Eleanor “Ellie” Thorne found herself driving into the town she had left over a decade ago.
Ellie’s old Toyota rumbled over the narrow road, the headlights slicing through the thick fog that clung to the trees. She glanced at the GPS on her phone, which showed she was only a few minutes away from her grandmother’s house—a sprawling Victorian mansion that now, unexpectedly, belonged to her.
The house had always been a symbol of her childhood summers, filled with the scent of her grandmother’s lavender tea and the sound of crackling fires on cold nights. But now, it stood as a reminder of a legacy she had barely begun to understand.
“There it is,” Ellie muttered to herself, gripping the steering wheel a bit tighter as the mansion came into view. Its dark silhouette loomed at the end of a gravel driveway, windows staring blankly like eyes of a forgotten giant.
Pulling up to the front of the house, Ellie turned off the engine and sat in silence for a moment. She took a deep breath, letting the cool night air fill her lungs before stepping out into the crisp, silent night. Gravel crunched under her boots as she walked towards the massive oak doors.
“This is home now,” she whispered, running her fingers over the worn brass doorknob. She pushed the door open, its hinges creaking in protest.
The interior was just as she remembered: high ceilings, rich wooden paneling, and a grand staircase winding up to the second floor. Dust motes floated lazily in the beams of moonlight that filtered through the windows. Ellie set her bags down in the foyer, her eyes lingering on a large portrait of her grandmother, Dorothy Thorne, hanging above the fireplace.
“I hope I’m ready for this, Gran,” Ellie said softly, feeling the weight of the past settling on her shoulders.
A sudden howl echoed through the trees, sharp and mournful, making Ellie jump. She rushed to the window, peering out into the dark forest that surrounded the house. The sound was unsettling, a reminder of the wildness that lurked just beyond the manicured lawns and gardens.
Shaking off the eerie feeling, Ellie decided to explore the house. She climbed the stairs to her grandmother’s study, a room that had always intrigued her with its shelves of old books and antique maps. The door creaked open, revealing a space frozen in time. Ellie ran her hand along the mahogany desk, spotting a thick, leather-bound journal lying on top. Its cover was embossed with intricate designs, a golden clasp holding it shut.
“What’s this?” Ellie wondered aloud, picking it up. She fumbled with the clasp, finally opening the journal to reveal pages filled with her grandmother’s neat handwriting and detailed sketches of the woods and creatures that seemed straight out of a fairy tale.
Flipping through the pages, Ellie’s curiosity grew. Her grandmother had written about werewolves, strange symbols, and ancient rituals, things Ellie had always dismissed as folklore.
A knock on the door downstairs jolted her out of her thoughts. Heart pounding, Ellie hurried back to the foyer. She opened the door to find a man standing on the porch, tall and broad-shouldered, with dark hair and piercing blue eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight.
“Hello,” the man said, his voice deep and smooth. “I’m Lucas Hale. I live nearby and wanted to welcome you to Ashwood.”
Ellie’s initial wariness softened as she studied him. He looked familiar, though she couldn’t quite place him.
“Hi, I’m Ellie Thorne,” she replied, extending a hand. “Thanks for stopping by. It’s… nice to meet a neighbor.”
Lucas shook her hand, his grip firm but gentle. “I knew your grandmother,” he said, a hint of sadness in his eyes. “She was a remarkable woman.”
Ellie nodded, unsure how to respond. “She was. I’m still trying to make sense of all this… She left me this house, and it’s a lot to take in.”
Lucas smiled, a kind expression that made Ellie feel a bit more at ease. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. Ashwood can be… strange, especially for someone who’s been away for a while.”
Ellie glanced back at the house, the shadows seeming to deepen. “I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks, Lucas.”
He nodded and turned to leave, pausing at the edge of the porch. “One more thing—be careful at night. The woods can be dangerous.”
Ellie watched him disappear into the fog, his warning echoing in her mind. She closed the door and leaned against it, feeling a chill that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
“Dangerous woods, werewolf journals… What have I gotten myself into?” she murmured, looking back at the journal she had left on the desk.
As she walked back to the study, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Lucas Hale was more than he seemed—and that her grandmother’s death was just the beginning of a mystery that would change everything she thought she knew about Ashwood.
