Echoes of the Raven

Daniel Mercer never intended to return to Black Hollow. The small town held too many ghosts, too many memories he had tried to leave behind. But when a series of disappearances began making headlines, his editor at The Chronicle insisted. "You grew up there. You’ll get people to talk," she had said. And so, begrudgingly, he went back.

The moment he crossed into town, a chill settled in his bones. The autumn air was crisp, but this cold felt different, like an unseen presence pressing against his skin. He pulled his coat tighter and drove toward his motel, the streets as empty as he remembered.

His first stop was the sheriff’s office. Sheriff Tom Willis, a man who had once coached Daniel’s little league team, greeted him with wary eyes. "You won’t find much," Willis said, shaking his head. "People here don’t like to talk about the missing. They just… disappear. Always have."

Daniel frowned. "What do you mean, ‘always have’?”

Willis leaned back, rubbing his chin. "You ever heard the legend of the Black Hollow Raven?"

Daniel had. Every child in town grew up fearing the story. A great black bird, larger than any natural raven, appearing days before someone vanished. It was said to be the harbinger of a restless spirit, cursed to roam until it found justice.

"You don’t actually believe that," Daniel scoffed.

Willis shrugged. "Believe what you want, Mercer. But those who see the raven don’t last long."

That night, Daniel combed through old town records, piecing together a pattern. Every decade, without fail, people vanished—always in the fall, always near the woods. He circled names in his notebook: Amelia Watts, 1953. Henry Carter, 1962. Lily Brooks, 1971. The list went on. The most recent disappearance, Emily Rhodes, had happened just last week.

The next morning, Daniel visited Emily’s mother, a frail woman with sunken eyes and trembling hands. "She saw it," the woman whispered. "The raven. She told me the night before she disappeared. Said it was watching her from the woods. I told her to stay inside, but…" Her voice cracked. "She left anyway."

A rustle outside the window made Daniel’s skin prickle. He turned, but saw nothing. Just trees swaying in the cold wind.

By the time he left the house, the sun had started to set, casting long shadows over the quiet streets. He walked back toward his motel, the sense of unease growing. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw it.

A massive black raven perched on a lamppost, its beady eyes locked onto him.

His breath caught in his throat. It was just a bird, wasn’t it? But something about it felt wrong. Its feathers shimmered unnaturally in the fading light, its stare unblinking, watching.

He hurried inside, double-bolting the door. His hands shook as he typed out notes on his laptop. "Legend may be real. Sightings of raven reported before disappearances. Witnessed myself. Need to investigate more."

A loud tap at the window made him freeze.

Slowly, he turned. The raven sat on the windowsill, its head tilted as if studying him. The glass pane between them felt dangerously thin.

His phone rang, shattering the silence. It was Sheriff Willis. "Mercer, listen to me. Leave town. Now."

"I saw it," Daniel whispered. "The raven."

A long pause. "Then you don’t have much time."

The line went dead.

A shadow flickered outside. The raven was gone.

Daniel grabbed his keys, his heart pounding. He needed to get out. But as he reached for the door, he felt it—that same unnatural chill from before, seeping into his bones.

The room darkened, though no lights had gone out. The shadows stretched, deepened, swallowed everything.

The last thing he heard was the beating of wings.