The end of summer came quietly that year, with golden leaves already beginning to fall before September even began.
Rose sat at the edge of her bed, slipping her sketchbook into her school bag like she always did – a silent ritual. Outside, the town was still, but the air felt heavier, as if the wind carried a secret no one wanted to speak of.
A woman had gone missing two weeks ago.
No one said much about it.
Just hushed voices at the grocery store, glances passed between neighbors, and a photo taped to the notice board outside the library.
A smiling face, gone without a trace.
Jake had finished high school the year before. He was working now – fixing cars at a local garage, staying out late, coming home quiet.
Rose, on the other hand, still had to go back.
Tomorrow would be her first day of school again — same building, same hallways, same silent stares.
But this time something felt different.
Like the summer had taken something with it when it left.
And left something else behind.
The morning air was crisp as Rose walked toward the school gates, her bag slung over one shoulder, the familiar sketchbook tucked safely inside. The building looked the same – grey walls, flaking paint near the windows, the faint echo of laughter and footsteps from returning students.
But something was different.
The air felt..off.
As she stepped into the corridor, she noticed the empty notice board outside the staffroom. Normally filled with reminders, permission slips, and cheerful quotes — today it held only one paper, pinned slightly crooked:
"Ms. Evelyn Moore – still missing. if you have any information, please contact.."
Rose stopped.
Ms. Moore.
She had taught English last year. A quiet woman with kind eyes and a gentle voice, the only teacher who ever smiled at Rose even when she didn't speak. She never pushed her to talk, only nodded when Rose handed in drawings instead of written answers.
Now, her classroom was locked
Lights off.
Empty.
Other students walked past, whispering. Some glanced at the board. Most didn't stop.
Rose did.
She stood there a longer than she should have, her fingers tightened around the strap of her bag. Her mind was already sketching – the curve of Ms. Moore's smile, the way she used to write on the board with her left hand, the green scarf the always wore.
And the strangest part??
The same scarf... Rose had seen once this summer.
In the woods.
Just for a second.
But the second was enough.