The Last Message

Chapter 3: Blackwater Cove

The journey to Blackwater Cove unfolded along a serpentine path of cracked asphalt, meandering through bare trees that reached skyward like skeletal fingers.

Mira lowered the window, allowing the bracing scent of the ocean air to fill the car. However, the aroma was unsettling—not the fresh saltiness of familiar beaches, but a heavier, more ancient scent, as if the sea had been left to decay along the shore.

A sign gradually appeared through the mist:

WELCOME TO BLACKWATER COVE

Population: 387

The figure was crossed out.

Beneath it, in flaking paint, was written: 386.

The Diner

The sole establishment open on Main Street was a diner named The Rusty Anchor. The neon sign buzzed and flickered, reminiscent of a dying insect. Upon entering, the air was thick with the odors of grease and mildew. Every patron turned to look at Mira.

The waitress, an older woman with tangled gray hair and a cigarette tucked behind her ear, offered no smile. "Choose any seat."

Mira opted for a booth by the window. Outside, the harbor lay before her, a graveyard of fishing vessels tilting in the tide.

The waitress dropped a menu onto the table. "Just passing through?"

"I’m searching for someone." Mira produced a photograph—Lina, beaming at the camera, her dark hair dancing in the wind. "Have you seen her?"

The waitress's expression froze. She refrained from touching the photo. "Are you her sister?"

Mira's heart raced. "You remember her."

A moment passed. Then the waitress leaned closer, her voice a low rasp. "She came in here asking about the lighthouse. Just like you will."

The Town

Blackwater Cove resembled a ghost town.

Dilapidated houses leaned precariously on their foundations. Storefronts stood vacant, their windows boarded up. The few individuals on the street moved like specters—shoulders hunched, eyes averted.

No one met Mira’s gaze.

An elderly man occupied a bench near the pier, skillfully repairing a fishing net with his weathered hands. He observed her intently, his cloudy left eye shimmering in the dim light.

Mira approached him. "Did you know her?" she inquired, holding up the photograph.

The man's face broke into a smile, revealing two missing teeth. "A lovely girl. She asked far too many questions."

"About what?" Mira pressed.

"The water," he replied, gesturing toward the harbor.

The waves gently lapped against the docks, sluggish and heavy. In the fleeting moments when sunlight touched the surface, the sea appeared almost black.

The Lighthouse

Perched on the edge of the cliffs, the lighthouse's white paint had faded to a bone-gray hue due to the harsh elements. A rusted gate obstructed the path, but the lock was broken.

Mira pushed it open.

The wind howled as she ascended the narrow staircase, her fingers gliding over the damp stone walls. At the summit, the door stood slightly ajar.

Inside, dust particles danced in the muted light. A desk occupied one corner, its surface marred with initials and dates. And atop it—

A box.

Small and wooden, adorned with a tarnished brass lock.

Mira's breath hitched.

Lina's journal had referenced a key.

She reached into her pocket and retrieved the rusted key she had discovered nestled between the pages. It fit seamlessly.

The lock clicked open.

Inside, she found three items:

A map marked with a red X near the northern cliffs.

A photograph of Lina alongside a dark-haired man whom Mira did not recognize.

A second envelope.

This one was not addressed to her.

It read: Daniel.

The Water

Mira stepped outside, the wind whipping at her clothing. Below the cliffs, the waves crashed violently against the rocks, churning and furious.

Then—

She noticed a flicker of movement on the beach.

A figure stood at the water's edge, gazing up at her.

Before she could call out, they turned and disappeared into the mist.

Next Chapter Preview:

Mira locates Daniel, the individual featured in the photograph. He possesses more information regarding Lina's disappearance than he is willing to reveal. The reality lies hidden far beneath the dark waters.