Under the Crimson Sky

By Nadeem Shah

The sky bled red the evening I returned to Raven Hollow.

I hadn’t been back in twelve years—not since the night everything I believed in was shattered. The roads felt narrower, the trees darker, like the whole town was holding its breath, waiting for me to remember what I’d tried so hard to forget.

At the edge of town, the old cliff still loomed, jagged and relentless, just as I remembered. That was where it all began. And where, tonight, it might finally end.

My brother Nathan met me at the porch with a stiff nod and eyes that refused to soften. The air between us was thick with words we hadn’t spoken and wounds we hadn’t healed.

“You sure you want to be here?” he asked.

“I need answers,” I said. “And I’m done running.”

Inside the house, the silence screamed louder than any argument we’d ever had. Dust lay thick on old photo frames, hiding smiles from a time when everything still made sense. But that was before the fire. Before the lie. Before I disappeared.

I thought I was protecting them by leaving. But the truth is—I was just too afraid to stay.

It all started with a letter.

A week ago, I received an envelope with no return address. Inside was a single sentence, handwritten in the slanted script I’d know anywhere:

“It wasn’t your fault. Meet me at the cliff.”

It was signed A.

That name burned like acid. Abigail. My childhood friend. My secret. My guilt.

She was the reason I’d left. Or rather, the reason I couldn’t stay.

Twelve years ago, the town had been rocked by a scandal—arson at the Miller estate. Abigail’s parents were prominent figures, and the fire was ruled intentional. The whispers started immediately. Everyone knew we had been close. Too close. I had argued with her father the day before. That was enough.

They never arrested me, but suspicion hung over me like a storm cloud. When Abigail vanished without a trace two days later, I became the ghost everyone wanted gone. So I left. No goodbye. No answers.

Until now.

I stood at the cliff’s edge just before midnight. The storm rolled in, thunder cracking like the earth was being torn open. Then, through the rain, I saw her.

She hadn’t aged. Not really. Just hardened. Her eyes still held that quiet fire—but now, they also held pain.

“You came,” she said.

“You wrote,” I replied.

She stepped closer, wind tugging at her coat. “I couldn’t keep running either.”

I searched her face. “What happened that night, Abby? Why did you disappear?”

She looked past me, toward the town lights flickering below. “Because if I stayed, they would’ve buried me. Just like they tried to bury the truth.”

And then, like unraveling thread, the truth came out.

Her father had enemies—dangerous ones. He had been laundering money through local businesses. When he threatened to expose his partners, they retaliated. The fire was no accident. It was a warning.

And Abigail had seen everything.

“They told me I’d be next,” she whispered. “So I ran. Changed my name. Hid in plain sight. But I couldn’t forget you. You took the blame—and I let you.”

Lightning lit the sky behind us, casting her face in sharp, haunted relief.

“I wanted to tell you,” she said. “But I didn’t know how. And after so long…”

I stepped back, trying to breathe through the shock. The years of guilt, the self-doubt, the self-hate—it had all been built on a lie I hadn’t even known existed.

“I lost everything,” I said, my voice cracking. “My name. My family. Myself.”

“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m sorry.”

We stood in silence, the storm raging around us, until she held out a flash drive.

“It’s all here—proof. Names, files. Everything. I’ve been collecting it for years. It’s time to clear your name.”

I took it, my hands trembling.

“But why now?” I asked.

She looked up at the crimson-streaked clouds above us.

“Because I want to come home, too.”

Redemption is a strange thing. It doesn’t erase the past—it just gives you a place to stand while you face it.

The next morning, I sat in the sheriff’s office, file in hand, and for the first time in over a decade, I told the truth. Not the version others wrote for me—but mine.

It didn’t fix everything. Nathan still looked at me with guarded eyes. People still whispered when I walked by.

But it was a start.

And as I stood once more beneath the crimson sky, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years.

Peace.

Author’s Note

Thank you for reading Under the Crimson Sky. This story is about how long-held pain, silence, and shame can begin to heal the moment we face them with truth. Redemption isn’t easy—and it doesn’t come quickly—but it’s always possible. Especially when you stop running and start remembering who you really are.