Shadows on Everwood Road

Aidel Frenada stared at the blinking cursor on his laptop, the white page as empty as his thoughts. His mentor's words echoed in his mind, a constant reminder of his shortcomings: "Your writing lacks the visceral pain that makes characters breathe." A successful mystery novelist by most standards, Aidel knew he was missing something crucial—the ability to evoke heart-wrenching emotion, the kind that resonated deep within readers' bones.

His psychologist, Dr. Elina often pressed him to face the truth; his detachment stemmed from a deeper, unresolved agony—the mysterious disappearance of his family ten years ago. A tragedy he neatly boxed away in the attic of his mind, unopened and gathering dust.

She offered some perspective to Aidel. "Perhaps it's not your talent that's lacking, but your unwillingness to confront your own pain. It’s bleeding—or rather, failing to bleed—into your work," she suggested gently.

She proposed a solution that felt more like a sentence. "I think you should visit the last place they were seen. It might help you find the closure you're denying yourself."

Aidel balked at the idea. He remembered the day vividly: his mom, dad and little brother, setting off, leaving him behind as they headed to a routine doctor’s appointment for her retired cancer. He thought himself somewhat prepared for the possibility of his mother’s eventual passing. 

But by no means did he imagine he’d be forced to lose her—and his entire family—in a single, inexplicable instant. 

The road had claimed them, swallowed by an abyss that no search and rescue could fathom. Their town had given up the search for them years ago, and, despite Aidel’s persistent protests at twenty years old, they held a funeral for them. They had caused him quite enough and didn’t need to dredge up old memories of them to rehash the wounds. 

Yet, as he drove to his mentor’s house later that day, he found himself at the crossroad leading to Everwood Road—the very place his family was last reported seen. The road had been closed ever since their disappearance, with several unexplained vanishings contributing to its eerie reputation. 

***

Aidel began what should have been a three minute journey down the abandoned road from what his GPS told them. There would be a cul-de-sac thereafter. However, the further he drove, the landscape began to contort unnaturally. 

The trees that lined the edges of the road began to bend; arching into themselves as if succumbing to an incredible weight from above. Aidel leaned forward and looked up to investigate the source of the pressure. He found instead that the crisp, light blue of the sky became dull and thick, making it nearly impossible to see the sun. 

A prickle of unease crawled up his spine. He grabbed either side of the steering wheel and thrusted 90 degrees to the right, intending to go back the way he came. The very screech of the car as he made the sharp u-turn echoed into the open in a sickening pitch. Aidel felt his heartbeat begin to thump against his clammy chest. It banged, harder still, as if seeking its own exit out, when he turned and noticed that the car faced the same direction he had turned from. 

He looked behind him to find the way he had come was now shrouded in a thick, gray fog - a phenomenon unlike any he’d seen. He decided he’d make another attempt to turn around. 

And another.

And another.

Each attempt he made was as futile as the last. It became harder to keep control of the car each time as the sweat that had washed his palms, now glistened on the steering wheel. 

This wasn't just isolation; it felt as though the fog itself harbored a consciousness - watching, waiting. It left Aidel with a sinking realization: he was not merely lost but ensnared, compelled to drive forward into the unknown.

With every mile, the feeling of being watched from just beyond the mist's grasp clawed at his nerves. 

He looked back a last time, hoping the fog would clear and he could return home. 

It was then that Aidel noticed a figure standing within the shadows of the fog. He continued watching, hoping the figure would make a move. 

Was it friend or foe?

Aidel’s hand shook violently as he pressed the driver’s window’s button. He stuck only his forehead out, hoping it would signal to the form that he meant no harm. 

In response, the silhouette pointed his right leg forward and leaned all the way back, as if preparing for a triple jump. 

In an instant, the silhouette ran forward, racing ahead at unhuman-like speed. THe fog that enshrouded them kept pace. Each step the figure took dug holes into the paved way. 

Aidel made three attempts to press on the gas with his leg that had become  jello at the sight before him. He turned around and burst forward in a desperate attempt to gain distance between himself and whatever that thing was. 

He looked behind him to see whether the figure and the fog were still in pursuit. 

They were. But they were still a great distance apart. 

He tried driving a little faster and looked around again. They grew farther still. 

He was losing them.

He turned around to resume focus, however, a bit too late, he noticed a fallen branch laying across the way. Aidel did yet another 90-degree turn and lost control of the vehicle. 

He braced for the impact of the side of the car against the tree. 

And was knocked unconscious. 

***

Aiden woke up with a scream. 

He frantically looked around him, searching for the dark figure that was chasing him but instead found himself parked in front of his psychologist’s office. 

He looked down at his shirt to find that it was soaked right through.

He had never left the doctor’s as yet. He seemed to have fallen asleep in the car, probably tired from the fatigue of his session. 

He got out of the car to tell his doctor of the ordeal. 

He closed the door behind him and looked over the top of the car to see if the pastry shop across the road was still open. After the dream he’d had he needed something sweet to catch a break. 

He realized however that there was no pastry shop across from him. Instead, a clock tower stood in its place. 

As he paid more attention to his surroundings, he realized that the doctor’s office was, in fact, the only familiar building in the area.

It was clear he was in a different town entirely. 

He returned his focus on the clock, noticing that its hands were frozen at half-past six. It was clearly broken as the time of day was much darker than six-thirty. 

He looked at his own watch to get the correct timing, only to find that it too was stuck on the same time as the clock. Before Aidel could begin to ponder the strange coincidence, a gentle voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You must be new here," said the man, his tone warm and inviting. He was an older gentleman, with a demeanor that radiated authority. His eyes, though aged, sparkled with a lively curiosity as he approached Aidel. "I'm Gerald, the town keeper."

Aidel nodded, taking in the friendly face and the extended hand. "Aidel,” he offered. Not wanting to ruffle any feathers like his strange encounter with the silhouette person, he felt it was best to hide that he didn’t know what was going on. “Yes, I just arrived. It's... a unique place."

Gerald chuckled softly, "Unique is a good word for it. This is a peaceful town, filled with people who've chosen to live in the moment rather than chase after the elusive “more”. We find contentment in the simplicity of our days here."

Gerald seemed to read his hesitation and smiled. "I encourage you to explore our town, meet our residents. See for yourself."

"Enjoy your stay, Aidel," Gerald said, turning to continue his duties. 

***

The residents greeted him with gentle smiles, their movements languid, as if every day were a leisurely Sunday afternoon. Despite their warmth, Aidel felt an invisible barrier between him and them, a reminder that he was an outsider.

Turning a corner, he found himself on a quaint street lined with old-fashioned houses, each with meticulously kept gardens. It was idyllic, almost too perfect. His steps slowed as one particular house caught his eye—a charming Victorian with a vibrant garden that seemed strangely familiar. His heart skipped a beat when he realized why: it was the mirror image of his childhood home.

Tentatively, he approached, his mind racing with confusion and a burgeoning hope. As he neared the front gate, he saw figures moving in the garden. His breath caught in his throat when he recognized them—his mother, tending to the roses just as she used to years ago; his father, reading a newspaper on the porch swing; his younger brother, kicking a soccer ball against the fence.

Aidel stood frozen, watching them. It was as if no time had passed, as if he had walked into a memory preserved in amber. But this was no memory—it was real, unbelievably real.

"Aidel!" his mother called out, as if he had only left that morning. She wiped her hands on her apron and came towards him, her arms open.

The embrace was warm and familiar, yet Aidel felt a surreal disconnect. 

For Aidel, the moment was thick with emotion; his eyes welled up, a mix of joy at seeing them and heartache over their casual demeanor towards him. "How... how is this possible?" Aidel managed to choke out, his voice thick."

“Come inside and we’ll explain everything.” his father replied with a proud grin. 

***

They spoke of trivial matters as they shared a meal. His parents brought up old memories that Aidel felt were inappropriate for them to recall with such irreverence. 

“What is this place?” he blurted, redirecting them from digging up memories they had no business touching. Not when they left him by himself for years to live here. 

“This place,” his dad began, “rescued us. We took a wrong turn onto this road one day and I’m sure you know now what happens once you do,” he looked at Aidel knowingly. “We tried leaving once we realized we weren’t in town but each time we tried we found ourselves right back in town.”

The hairs on Aidel’s hands prickled once his dad confirmed his worst fears. There was no way out. 

“Once we realized we couldn’t leave, Gerald the townskeeper explained that there was a way out that only he knew. But if we stayed, your mama wouldn’t suffer from cancer anymore,” his father finished. 

So he was right. He was abandoned. 

"Wouldn't you want to come back with me, to the real world?"

His father paused, putting down his fork. "It’s not like we’ve never thought about it many times before, Aidel," his father finally said, his voice thick. "When your mother was diagnosed, the thought of losing her was unbearable. At least here she doesn’t have to face that fate."

His mother’s eyes brimmed with tears as she added, "Did you know? Once we step out, there’s no coming back." She added a weak smile at the end, silently requesting that he understood the dilemma. 

Aidel felt a tightness in his chest, "But what about all the opportunities you left behind?" His ears grew warm at his obvious, clumsy reference to himself, ashamed he’d even had to ask. 

His younger brother looked up, "But we have what matters most—each other, without end," he said softly. He didn’t miss that his brother’s eyes flickered warily to his mother for a second. 

An abrupt silence hung over the young boy’s statement as he said what was painfully obvious to Aidel the moment he saw his family again. 

He wasn’t a part of what mattered most to them. 

Aidel calmly stood up from his chair and walked towards the stairs behind him without another. His muscle memory pulled him towards his childhood room. As he was about to ascend he felt a large, firm, hand on his shoulder. 

His dad. 

He turned around to see his father smiling at him in that unaware way the entire town had. His hand dug a little deeper into his shoulder than was necessary. Aidel winced in response which signaled to his father to let go. 

“Son, you can sleep in the guest room downstairs. Your room is way too dirty right now.”

He was a little puzzled at the statement but was a bit worn out from the conversation, that he decided not to push the topic any further. 

“Good night,” his mom listlessly responded to his retreating figure, 

The apathy with which she responded to his torment stopped him in his tracks. He decided he couldn’t hide his feelings anymore. He needed to let them know what they did to him. 

"I spent years fueled by anger," Aidel began, his voice low, even. "It was easier to stay mad than to grieve, to pretend that you were still out there, refusing to be found instead of believing you had died like everyone else."

“And now, I found out you’re here because you want to be.”

The silence that followed was thick, charged with the resonance of truth. His father stepped closer, the lines of his face softening."Aidel,” he began. He hesitated for a brief second before he continued. “We made our choice, for better or worse,” his voice sounded tight, reserved.

Suddenly, Jake, his younger brother, piped up with unexpected fervor. “I’ve tried to leave, Aidel, loads of times,” he blurted out, his young voice tinged with a mix of fear and defiance. “There’s this shadow that grabs you a-and pulls you back.”

Aidel immediately assumed it was the silhouette figure he saw earlier.

Their mother’s face contorted with both anger and fear. “You tried to leave us? Your family?” she exclaimed, her voice rising sharply in a mix of disbelief and hurt.

Jake’s eyes welled up, his voice quivering. “I don’t want to leave you, Mom, but I wanna see other places too, not just here forever.”

Before more could be said, their father suddenly stood, his face lined with urgency. “Boys, you need to go—now!” he hissed, nodding towards the darkening corners of the room where the shadows began to stir unnaturally.

Jake tugged at Aidel’s arm, pulling him toward the stairs. “Come on, upstairs, quick!”

They hurried to their parents' bedroom, where the still form of their mother lay peacefully on the bed, unchanged by time. “She didn’t make it when we first tried to get out,” Jake whispered, his words hurried and hushed. “That thing out there, pretending to be her, it’s not really Mom.”

He pushed aside a panel in the closet, revealing a hidden door. “This way goes back to the road,” he explained, his voice anxious.

As they emerged onto the road and into Aidel’s car, they sped away with the dark silhouette in pursuit. “It always catches up, just like this,” Jake said, his tone resigned yet tinged with despair.

Aidel pressed the accelerator hard, but the figure clung relentlessly to the back of the vehicle. 

Each time he broke away, the figure managed to take hold again. Aidel felt desperate. They’d be consumed and returned to the still life.

Confronted with this recurring nightmare, Aidel understood the relentless pain he’d failed to articulate in his books all these years—the kind that doesn’t let go, that haunts relentlessly.

"Get out of the car!" he commanded. Jake looked at Aidel, frightened and puzzled but he obeys. They both jumped out, facing their pursuer on the open road.

"Every time it tries to hold you back, tell yourself you’re moving forward," Aidel instructed firmly, feeling a surge of protective urgency for his brother.

"I choose to move forward!" Aidel shouted, willing himself to believe the words. Willing his brother to believe them too. 

Jake’s eyes filled with tears as he looked on the road he’d tried to move on from so many years. 

He remembered his mother holding his hand in the park and blowing on his bruises when he’d fall when he was a little boy. With a haggard breath, he inhaled and let the words fall out of his mouth, “I choose to move forward.”

"I choose to move forward!" Aidel yelled again, his voice echoing into the mist.

“I choose to move forward,” Jake echoed with renewed fervor. Telling himself he needed to move on. He had to.

Each declaration seemed to weaken the figure’s grip.

The fog lightened slightly, revealing a glimmer of the road ahead. With each shout, memories of their life together—the good and the simple—flooded back, desperate to reclaim their resolve.

Together, they ran towards the diminishing path of escape, the silhouette’s grasp loosening, its form beginning to dissolve into the fog.

"I choose to move forward!" Their voices combined in a hopeful cry as they neared the threshold, the pathway narrowing, freedom just steps away.

The fog closed in, the silhouette’s wail fading.

***

(Two years later)

Back in the real world, Aidel rewrote his novel, infusing it with the raw emotions of his ordeal. He and his brother, who now went under the guise of Aidel’s long lost son, held a small, dignified funeral for their parents, finally accepting their absence in his life was permanent.

Months later, as he sat before the thousands that turned up for his book signing, he decided to begin with an excerpt from it. He started with the dedication page, reading the words written there with a resolve: 

I dedicate this book to Time and its uncaring, unyielding and unapologetically steady pace. You, who are neither enemy or ally: may you forever open and close our wounds.