The shadow of Ravenswood

The coachman stopped the carriage in front of the Ravenswood police station. Detective Thomas Woodward stepped outside and squinted against the whiteness of the thick snow covering the pavement. The wind blew the falling snowflakes into his face. Damn this weather, he thought, and paid the coachman. He had never been so far north in his life. Duty called, however, and he had to obey his superior’s command.

The building he was about to enter was a rather simple one. Small police station for a small town. While conducting his initial investigation on the town, which was not extensive, he found out that the population did not exceed four hundred people. Before the recent uncanny events, that is.

Thomas was at the police station’s door in a few quick steps. He knocked, and soon a young officer let him in. The warmth, which greeted him inside, brought a welcome relief from the clawing chill outside. The young officer led Thomas into a large room, where a stern man sat at an old desk. His eyes lit up as the detective stepped inside. Thomas caught the man’s look, and he knew right away that these people look at him as some kind of savior.

‘Welcome, Detective!’ The sheriff stood and greeted Thomas. ‘I’m Sheriff John Mason, and I’m glad you came to help us out.’

The sheriff’s face was rugged and full of stubble. His unkempt cheeks hid a pair of deep-set eyes, which were now showing more worry than determination. The men shook hands.

‘I’m here to help, sheriff,’ Thomas replied. Sheriff Mason gestured towards a chair in front of his desk, and Thomas sat. The chair uttered a slight creak.

‘I’m sure as hell we need help. I live in this town for quite some time, but have seen nothing like this before.’

‘The disappearances...’

‘Oh, yes. It’s just right-in-your-face weird for people to walk out of their homes in the middle of the night, especially in this harsh weather.’

‘Tell me more!’ Thomas leaned closer to focus on everything the sheriff had to say.

‘Of course, I’ll tell you everything I know, but first, let’s warm you up a little.’

He stood and then walked to a small cabinet nearby. Thomas was watching with furrowed brows the sheriff’s clumsy movements. Then he realized what Mason was up to. The sheriff took out a bottle full of brown liquid and two empty glasses. Thomas’s eyes widened at the sight.

‘It’s not any expensive whiskey, but it does the job,’ he said as he placed a glass in front of his guest and himself, then poured without restraint. ‘That should warm you up.’

‘Thank you, sheriff. I will definitely not refuse it.’

The detective drank the whole glass in a few thirsty gulps. Sheriff Mason threw a surprised look at him.

‘You’re quite the drinker, aren’t you?’

‘Hard times call for strong spirits,’ Thomas replied, and the sheriff just nodded. Fair enough, he thought.

‘So, the disappearances...’ Thomas began.

‘Yes, well, they are of the most peculiar nature. People just walked out, headed toward the forest, and never came back. Nobody knows exactly where they ended up. Are they alive or not? But, given the cold outside, there is no way any of them survived.’

‘Any search parties? Anybody followed them when they went outside?’

‘Yes, we’ve conducted several search parties, but found nothing. The tracks disappear quickly because of the wind and perpetual snowing. Two out of the fifteen who had disappeared had been followed by family members, but eventually, they had lost track of them.’

‘Well, that certainly sounds peculiar.’

‘I have a feeling that there is more to this story than we can ever imagine. People don’t just walk into certain death with this sheer a determination.’

‘No, they don’t. There must be something else. What else do you know?’

Thomas looked straight into Mason’s eyes and saw his hesitation. There was something else.

‘I don’t know how to say it. It will probably sound like superstitious rambling, but many people spoke about a song, which can be heard during the night. Some of them speculated that this song is drawing the victims out.’

‘Have you heard this song?’

‘No, but if several people are telling me they have heard something, then there must be some grain of truth to it. People are scared, detective. They think that some kind of preternatural spirits have awakened in the woods, and they are feeding on their loved ones.’

‘I agree with that, but I have a hard time believing in anything unnatural. There must be an explanation. People have tried to explain natural phenomena by invoking gods and spirits for millennia, yet they have been wrong. The Greeks thought that lightning was Zeus’s wrath, then came Ben Franklin more than a century ago, and proved that it’s just electricity.’

‘Detective, I respect your reasoning. I am a pragmatic man myself, but right now my rational mind is at a loss. People are asking for solutions, and I hadn’t been able to provide any, only promises. What else can I do? The pressure is high. Natural or unnatural, we have to put an end to the disappearances.’

Thomas realized the sheriff was carrying an enormous burden on his shoulder. People were looking up to him, but they also demanded resolution. He knew the feeling, but seemed that he had become numb to it. The urgency, the pressure, the frantic struggles of the mind to untangle a convoluted crime can drive a man mad. He had felt it countless times before, but after the tragedy, he just couldn’t care anymore.

‘Forgive me, sheriff. The seemingly unnatural events won’t deter me from investigating and discovering the truth.’

‘Thank you, detective. I do not doubt you. It’s just that I’m at a loss, and I must give answers where answers are due.’

‘I understand. I’ve been in similar positions before. We’ll get answers. I will begin my work right away. Where can I stay during the time of the inquiry?’

‘I’ve arranged for you to stay in the boardinghouse of Francis and Elizabeth Miller. They are nice people. All expenses are covered. Here is a map of the town.’

The sheriff handed a crude map of Ravenswood to Thomas. The detective took it and threw a quick look at the piece of aging paper.

‘It’s not much, but it’s all I could find. I marked the important places, including the Miller boardinghouse.’

‘Woods surround the town on all sides,’ Thomas exclaimed after he took a longer look at the map.

‘Yes, unfortunately for our case,’ said Mason, and poured another glass.

Initially, he was reluctant to refill. Thomas gulped the liquor down quickly a few minutes before, and Mason feared that the good detective will get drunk. But he observed nothing out of the ordinary, so he poured again. The sheriff himself felt the need for some well-deserved peace of mind, and for now, the drink provided it to him.

‘In which direction did they go?’ asked Thomas while still studying the map.

‘This we know only for a few people. They went roughly toward the north-west. Also, several people reported that they’d heard the eerie song from that direction, but they are not entirely sure.’

‘It’s all right. At least we have a general direction. How were they dressed?’

‘They were properly dressed. All of them took the time to dress well for the journey. But they took nothing else for the road. No torch, no lamp, no weapons nor tools. Why would anybody do this?’

‘I don’t know. I have to figure that out.’

‘What are your plans?’ asked Mason, then offered to clink glasses.

Thomas stood, touched his glass against the sheriff’s. They both drank, then the detective spoke.

‘I would like to explore the town before going to the boardinghouse. I think I’ll go to the tavern; this whiskey made me hungry. Do they serve food there?’

‘Oh, yes! The food is quite good. But be prepared; folk will probably stare at you. This is a close-knit community. Everybody knows everybody else, so they’ll single you out quickly.’

‘Don’t worry about me. I’ve been to hell and back before.’

Thomas stood up with a definite move and turned toward the door.

‘Talk to you tomorrow, then?’ asked Mason.

‘I’ll let you know when I have something.’

‘All right. Have a pleasant afternoon, then.’

‘Same to you,’ Thomas replied, and headed out.

His stomach was already rumbling because of the long journey without food, and the whiskey served by the sheriff. The tavern was easy to find on the map. It was at the town square, roughly opposite to the church. Thomas smirked. A tavern and a church so close to each other. Both offering salvation, albeit bottled differently.

The clawing cold was relentless. There was little sunlight left, but the streets were still well lit because of the heaps of fallen snow. Most people were inside. Those who were out in the cold had some work or chore to attend to. They noticed Thomas, stared for a few seconds, then resumed their work.

Ravenswood was a town of mostly loggers, hunters, and trappers mixed with a few natives. Its closeness to the Great Lakes, and the mysterious forests of the north, made it a suitable place for logging, but the weather was atrocious during the winter. Thomas was not used to a weather this harsh, but he thought that in a few days he will get used to it.

The detective did not have to walk for long until reaching the central part of town. He noticed the church right away; it stood out among the crude buildings, with its high steeple and the cross on the top. Thomas stared at the cross for a few seconds, thinking if there was truly something behind it, or it was just an empty symbol of hope.