Chapter 1

The whiskey burnt Alex Thorn's throat as he drank the remaining dregs of the bottle. His calloused fingers touched the weathered edges of the image on his desk, which showed Emily's dazzling smile and Jack's impish grin. The memories stabbed him more sharply than any knife.

A sharp chill ran through his small quarters. Alex snapped his head up, blue eyes probing the shadows. Nothing. Just the typical ghosts from his head. He ran his hand through his short dark hair, hoping the shakes in his fingers would lessen.

The piercing ring of his telephone broke through the silence. Alex scrambled for it, almost knocking over a stack of case files, each one a monument to the strange and unexplainable.

"Thorn," he grumbled into the receiver.

He was welcomed with silence, followed by a gentle rustle. Alex tightened his grasp on the phone. A barely audible mumble slipped across the line: "Whispering Pines calls."

The call was disconnected. Alex looked at the phone, his heart thumping. He recognized that voice; it haunted his nightmares, an echo of the night his life crumbled.

His attention shifted to the worn leather jacket hanging over his chair. The jacket he had worn that night was now a battle-scarred relic from his previous life. Alex arose, wavering slightly as the room shifted. He braced himself against the desk, his fingers brushing over the cool metal of his old detective badge.

The emblem glittered dimly in the dim light, a reminder of the life he had left behind. Alex lifted it up and felt the weight in his palm. His mind raced with images of crime scenes, late hours at the precinct, and the exhilaration of closing a case. But those memories were clouded today, overwhelmed by the one case he couldn't solve—the one that cost him everything.

He sighed and laid the badge down, his gaze drawn to the case files sprawled around his desk. Each one was a frantic attempt to make sense of the unexplainable, to find some link to the gloom that had torn his family apart. Blurry images of alleged apparitions, witness affidavits detailing inconceivable happenings, speculations about parallel dimensions—Alex had pursued every lead, no matter how absurd.

A knock on the door made him flinch. Alex hesitated before responding. The hallway was empty save for a plain white envelope on the floor. His name was inscribed on it in spidery handwriting.

Back inside, Alex ripped open the envelope. A single sheet of paper came out, along with an old newspaper clipping. The letter was brief.

"The answers you seek are within Whispering Pines's walls. Come swiftly, detective. "Time runs out."

The newspaper item depicted a hazy image of a massive Victorian building. The headline said, "Whispering Pines Asylum Closes Amid Controversy."

Alex's hands shook while reading the article. There have been accusations of unethical experimentation, strange disappearances, and murmurs of the otherworldly. And there, hidden in the text, was a name that chilled his blood: Dr. Marcus Crowley.

He slid into his chair, holding the article in his quivering hands. The name Crowley triggered a memory, which Emily had mentioned in passing. Alex closed his eyes, attempting to concentrate despite the fog of grief and booze that had engulfed his head for so long.

Emily's face flashed before him; her expression anxious as she poured over her study notes. "There's something not right about this, Dr. Crowley," she had said. "His theories about the human mind, about breaking through to other realities... Alex, I think he might have actually done it."

At the time, Alex rejected her concerns. He'd been too caught up in his own cases, too certain of the solid, sensible world he believed he comprehended. Now, with the advantage of hindsight and the weight of tragedy, her words took on a terrifying new meaning.

Emily's study, her rising worry in the weeks leading up to the shadow, everything came flooding back to her. She mentioned Crowley, didn't she? Alex tried to remember through the blur of pain and booze.

He staggered to his bookshelves and took up Emily's old journals. He hurriedly looked, and pages fluttered to the floor. There was a hurriedly scribbled note: "Crowley knows about the shadows. "I must warn Alex."

Alex's breath became locked in his throat. After all these years, the solution was right in front of him. He gazed around the messy apartment, which was littered with empty bottles and discarded takeout cartons. This had served as both his sanctuary and prison. It now felt suffocating.

He returned to his workstation and laid up Emily's journals alongside his case files. Connections he had never seen before began to appear. The mysterious events he'd been examining, as well as notions concerning shadow beings, all seemed to point to Whispering Pines Asylum and Dr. Crowley's experiments.

Alex's thoughts raced, fitting together a riddle he had no idea he was solving. The darkness that had abducted Emily and Jack was not a random magical event. It was the outcome of a purposeful action-initiated years ago within the confines of Whispering Pines.

He remembered that dreadful night. The oppressive darkness that had enveloped his home, the heartbreaking screams that still resonated in his nightmares. Alex had come too late, discovering only vacant rooms and walls tainted with strange shadows. The official investigation had yielded no results—how could they explain a family that had been swallowed up by darkness?

But suddenly, with this fresh revelation, Alex felt a spark of optimism in his chest. If Crowley's experiments have resulted in these shadow entities, there might be a method to reverse the effects. A way to save Emily and Jack, assuming they are still alive someplace beyond the veil of reality.

Alex suddenly understood what he needed to do. He grabbed his leather jacket and shrugged it like armor. The weight of his old revolver in its secret holster provided comfort. He packed Emily's journal and the letter in a duffel bag, along with a few necessities.

As he packed, Alex noticed a dusty bottle stashed away in a corner. He hesitated, the usual desire to numb his agony competing with his newfound feeling of duty. After a brief internal struggle, he left the bottle. He needed a clear head to get where he wanted to go.

Alex proceeded through the room, gathering equipment accumulated over years of paranormal study. An EMF meter, an infrared camera, and a digital audio recorder—tools that had formerly appeared to be a last resort but were now seen as essential to his goal.

At the door, Alex halted. His gaze fell on the family image that remained on his desk. He hesitated before tucking it into his jacket pocket, close to his heart. "I'm coming for you," he muttered to Emily and Jack, who were smiling. "Whatever it takes."

The hallway outside was darker than usual. As Alex locked his door, the shadows in the corners appeared to writhe and grasp for him. He squared his shoulders and walked toward the stairway, each foot reverberating with determination.

As Alex stepped out of the building, the night air felt chilly against his face. The street was calm, with the occasional passing car casting long shadows on the pavement. He took a big breath and felt more alive than he had in years. The shroud of grief and booze that had obscured his mind for so long had lifted, leaving him with a laser-sharp focus on the task at hand.

Alex Thorn was done running from the darkness, no matter what was in store for him at Whispering Pines Asylum. It was time to confront his demons, both literal and figurative. As he went out into the crisp night air, he felt a sense of grim determination.

The hunt was on.

If you would like to read the full novella. It can be found on Amazon in both Paperback and eBook format