Moonlit Novella

Chapter One – Part Two

Her new cottage was nestled on the south side of Ashford Hollow, where the town’s glow faded into a lush, green forest. The north-facing stone was covered in creeping ivy, showing subtle signs of wear from the changing seasons. The slanted roof housed dense pools of moss, and the windows, framed with deep green shutters, held a golden flicker of candlelight at dusk. Behind the cottage, Ivy soon discovered a narrow grass-worn path that stretched out from the stone patio, vanishing beneath towering oaks and whispering pines. On quiet nights, the wind wove through the trees like a distant song. The soft creaking of the porch swing was the only sign of life in the stillness. It was isolated but not abandoned, rustic yet strangely inviting, waiting for someone to make it home again.

The Hollow, as the locals called it, was a quiet lakeside town, where the scent of water and pine lingered in the air and the call of distant loons could often be heard echoing through the brick-paved roads. Wooden piers stretched into the dark expanse of the lake, their weathered planks creaking under the weight of time. Boat shops and old storefronts lined the winding streets, their peeling signs swaying gently in the crisp breeze. In those first days, Ivy wandered through it all, feeling like an observer in a place that seemed suspended between past and present. Her boots clicked against damp cobblestone, the scent of rain and lake mist curling around her as she took in the hushed rhythm of a town that watched but did not yet welcome.

On the third day, she found herself at the lakeside beach, where the water lapped gently against the shore, dark and endless under the slate-colored sky. It smelled of damp leaves and distant storms. Ivy walked to the edge, her fingers brushing against the cool, smooth stones scattered along the shore. She knelt, picking one up, the cold weight of it grounding her.

The action brought forth a distant memory: Lily was laughing as she waded knee-deep in the crystal-clear lake, the summer sun gleaming against her wet hair.

“Come on, Ivy,” Lily called to her, tossing water in her direction. “Don’t be so serious all the time.”

Ivy had stood on the shore, arms crossed, pretending to be unimpressed. “Someone has to be,” she had teased.

But Lily had just smiled, that knowing, almost mischievous smile. “One day, you’ll remember all those times you never jumped in.”

The memory tightened like a fist around Ivy’s ribs. She exhaled sharply, shaking herself free from the past. Looking out into the lake, she noticed it was different, colder, quieter, but there was something off about it. Like something was watching.

The water lapped gently, but for a brief second, the pattern broke, sending a single ripple unfurling outward, as if something beneath had stirred.

The hair on her arms lifted, and the air seemed to still around her.

She turned, scanning the tree line behind her, the thick woods pressing in. Shadows stretched between the trunks, shifting as the wind moved through them. But no one was there. At least, no one she could see.

Swallowing, Ivy forced herself to look away. It was just her mind playing tricks on her, remnants of exhaustion and grief. At least, that’s what she told herself.