Lacy screamed the entire way down, gripping my hand like a vice. After what seemed like ages, we finally plunged into the dark water below. I resurfaced as a jolt ran through me from the unexpected chill, leaving my body covered in goosebumps. There was a brief moment of panic when I opened my eyes and didn't see my sister, but it quickly subsided when she emerged a few seconds after me.

She gasped for air and I felt a smack on my arm. “You promised it would be warm!”

“I guess spring is a little too early for cliff diving,” I said with a sheepish laugh, trying to get lake water out of my ears. “Come on, it'll be warmer out here.”

I towed my sister to the middle of our little alcove and scanned the trees for signs of life. While we weren't far from our family’s summer lakehouse, this wasn’t our land. So we were technically trespassing. The cliffs were a two mile trek through dense, unmarked trails. It was impossible to make it into the alcove from the main lake, so we were the only ones crazy enough to come out here. Even though we never saw another soul in this secluded area, I was still cautious.

I assured my sister that we were alone and felt the initial fear and exhilaration between us mellow into serenity. We floated side by side, taking in the blue sky, the tranquility of lapping water, and the melody of birdsong. It definitely was a little too early in the year to be out here. The water needed a few weeks to catch up to the ambient temperature, but I managed to convince my sister to join me in the excursion. This was also the first time I managed to talk her into jumping with me.

“A lot quicker than hiking down, huh?” I questioned, playfully splashing water at Lacy.

She rolled her eyes. “I guess so.”

“I told you we wouldn't hit the rocks.”

“You also told me it would be warm,” she said with a scowl.

“In my defense, it normally is by now.” I was waiting for her facade to drop. “Well? What did you think?”

She looked up at the jagged, forty-foot cliff we jumped from then looked back at me.

“I kind of want to do it again.”

A daredevil grin spread across my face as I grabbed her hand and dragged her out of the water to the top of the cliffs. I noticed that Lacy was no longer wide-eyed and reluctant, so I pulled her to the edge for another risky jump.

Sara and I had wild imaginations when we were kids. Our moms would let us have sleep overs from time to time, and they were definitely your typical little girl sleep overs. We braided each other’s hair, played with our dolls, tried to do our makeup with a makeup kit borrowed from one of our mothers, and made up games to play.

One night we were secretly up past our bedtime when Sara said she wanted to try this new game her brother made up. I frowned and reminded her that we were only supposed to play our own original games. That was a goal we set when we were four, and I wasn’t going to break our five year streak. She reassured me that it would be worth it, but we had to do it quickly because we could only play at midnight.

I wasn’t totally convinced, but it was already 11:58 and I was dying to know what was in the box that was in front of her. I looked closer, trying to discern the items with our dim flashlight. She was already digging in the box excitedly and started handing me some items. A candle, a piece of paper, a pencil, a matchbook, a salt shaker, and a red pin cushion with a single sewing needle in it.

With no notice of the incredulous look on my face, Sara retrieved the exact same items for herself and then brought out an extra piece of paper that already had scribbles on it. She reached for the flashlight and began reading.

“One, write out your whole name on the paper.” She paused to do just that and I followed suit. “Two, put a drop of blood on the paper and let the paper absorb it.”

She reached for her pin cushion - which was purple instead of red - and pulled out the sewing needle.

I slowly pulled out my needle and swallowed, mimicking Sara’s actions. I tried not to squeal when I pricked my finger. A drop of blood dripped onto the paper.

“Two, turn off all the lights and put the paper in front of the door. Light the candle and put it on top of the paper.”

We clicked off the flashlight and fumbled our way to the door, trying not to bump into her dresser. We placed our papers and candles, then struggled with the matches in the dark. I wondered how Sara was going to read the instructions without a flashlight. After the candles were lit, Sara used the flames to see her paper.

“Three… knock on the door twenty… two? Twenty two times. It must be midnight on the twenty second knock.” I could see her furrowed brows in the candlelight, but I knew she was struggling to see anything on that paper. “Open door… blow out candle… close door… immediately relight candle.”

We moved quickly and carefully followed each step. When it was time to relight our candles, my shaky hands prevented me from striking a match. Sara grabbed one of my matches and lit it with her candle, then gave it back. The flame danced as my quivering hands lowered it to the wick. Sara kept urging me to hurry.

The wick blazed to light and Sara continued. “Okay, now it’s time for the fun part. We’re going to play hide and seek with the Midnight Man. Take your candle and don’t let him catch you. If your candle goes out, he’s near you. You have to relight it in 10 seconds to keep playing. If you don’t do it in 10 seconds, you have to surround yourself in salt and stay there until 3:33. If you mess any of this up, you lose. Okay, so we just have to avoid him until 3:33. I’m totally going to win!”

With that, she took off, leaving me whimpering in her room. I crept into the hallway and looked around. I was just able to make out the staircase railing and hugged it until I got to the stairs. The pantry room was the best hiding spot in the house, so that’s exactly where I went. I sat against the wall beside a bag of potatoes and tried to steady my breathing. My teeth started to chatter, but I didn’t remember that room ever being that cold.

Suddenly, I heard a whisper from behind me. I jumped as cold air brushed my face and took my candlelight. I ran back into the kitchen, frantically grabbing for my matches. Even though my hands were trembling even more now, I somehow managed to relight my candle. I made my way into the den, telling myself that the shadow I saw was probably just Sara messing with me.

I heard a blood curdling scream from upstairs and rushed back up, worried about how mad her parents were going to be if we woke them up. I called out to Sara in a loud whisper. It took a few seconds, but I heard her whisper from the hallway. I followed the noise.

As I drew closer to the hushed voice, I realized it wasn’t Sara. In fact, I don’t even think it was human. I turned in the other direction and ran, shielding the flame with my free hand. I came to a halt when I saw the tall, shadowy man looming at the other end of the hallway, about two meters from me.

I tried to scream, but my body stiffened and I couldn’t get any noise to come out. I tried to run, but my fear kept me locked in place. My candle went out once again and I patted around for my matches. I felt all the blood drain from my face when I realized I must’ve left them downstairs, along with the salt.

The Midnight Man found me, and all I had was my candle.

There’s a phrase that’s been whispered in my halls a few times. “If these walls could talk, I wonder what secrets they'd tell.” The scandals and mysteries these individuals are seeking overshadow the more silent aspects of people's lives. The complexity of human nature shines through the secrets that I long to share, even though I cannot.

There was a proud and traditionalist elderly man, known as Mr. Anderson, who lived on the ground floor shortly after I was constructed. One day, his son, John, brought Mr. Anderson a gift in the form of a newly commercialized home radio. Mr. Anderson was puzzled with this new gadget that created indentations in his oriental rug. While it didn't necessarily look out of place in his Beaux-Arts inspired apartment, the modern touch contradicted his otherwise timeless decor.

John patiently showed him how to operate the radio, listening to his father grumble while he learned how to operate it. A look of surprise crossed Mr. Anderson's face as he stumbled upon a station playing one of his favorite songs, something he hadn't heard in years. Mr. Anderson began to enjoy the radio. He would listen to it in his late night solitude, tapping his foot to the beat of the nostalgic music.

Another resident by the name of Leo lived on the third floor in a period of peace and love. He was a young artist known for his predominantly blue and grey impressionist style. Leo took pride in his work, refusing to conform to the vibrant styles that were taking over the art scene at the time. His minimalist, monochromatic apartment reflected the steely aesthetic he had created.

Every dinner and cocktail party Leo hosted was successful, but he would spend the entire event on edge, worried he would be found out. A small, locked room that his guests would often try to enter, either mistaking it for a bathroom or attempting to satiate their curiosity. Rumors spread, but no one ever found out the truth.

I knew exactly what Leo refused to reveal. The tiny room was an art studio that contained a kaleidoscope of color. Bright, postmodern art filled the room, a stark contrast to the moody persona he wore. It was always unclear why Leo kept this psychedelic side a secret.

Chloe and Liam were a young couple on the fifth floor who enjoyed surprising each other with small, romantic gestures. Chloe sometimes discovered little notes left on her vanity, while Liam would come out of the shower to find a heart or message written in the steam on the bathroom mirror. It was never a competition; they just cherished brightening the other person's day.

As their fifth anniversary approached, they independently devised plans for a surprise date night. Both of them snuck around for months, oblivious to what the other was doing. A few nights before the date, while Liam was out with friends, Chloe went up to the rooftop to hang string lights. To her surprise, she found a table and two chairs that hadn't been there the last time she was there. She was perplexed, she thought her and Liam were the only ones who frequented this spot.

The metal rooftop door opened, startling Chloe and nearly making her drop the lights she was still carrying. Liam stepped out, holding a box, but froze when he saw Chloe. Their surprise was met with shared laughter, as they realized they were both planning surprise dates for the other. With the secret out, they now worked together to transform the rooftop into a cozy haven. With the rooftop preparations complete, Liam couldn't help but smile. He had managed to keep one more secret from Chloe in the form of a ring box, tucked away safely in his jacket pocket.

On the fourth floor of the building, there was a tenant simply known as "The Herbalist". She was quiet the eccentric character, always tending to her lush indoor garden. Her equally eclectic apartment was filled with an assortment of crystals and curious relics. She could often be heard humming soft melodies as she made her various tinctures and herbal concoctions.

Most of the residents cherished her presence, finding comfort in her cheerful demeanor and desire to help. They would come to her, seeking advice on life troubles or relief for their ailments. Other tenants dismissed her as a witch or an occultist, unable to see past her oddities.

Regardless of what her neighbors thought of her, there was a secret she kept very well hidden. Beneath her perpetual smile, she carried a profound loss. This loss drove her to the world of healing, both spiritually and physically. She hoped that mending others would in turn mend her own broken heart. So her apartment was turned into a healing sanctuary where she shared in the collective grief of her fellow tenants.

Once a month, the herbalist would slip away in the night to an unoccupied first floor apartment. The other residents were used to her erratic behavior, so a monthly pilgrimage was easily concealed thanks to her reputation. The vacant room knew more about her grief than anyone and offered her comfort and sanctuary in her silent struggle. She would pay tribute to the love that shaped her into the compassionate soul she became and to mourn the loss of that same love. Once her single, flickering candle burned out and her tears were no more, she returned to her peculiar apartment, ready to provide solace to the aching hearts of those that needed her.

There are countless stories in these walls, all testaments to human experience. The joys, the suffering, the nostalgia, and the hope. While I could share many more, I've come to learn that the beauty of these secrets lies in their hidden nature. These special memories are meant to be whispered in quiet corners so they can linger in the deteriorating brick and mortar of this place, so I choose to keep them.

[City of Eldoria] [Date: 4th Wintermoon, 23XX] [Reporting Officer: Sergeant Elara Nightshade]

Date and Time of Incident: 4th of Frostfall, approximately 9:30 PM

Location: Eldoria Marketplace

Description of Incident: A violent crime occurred in Eldoria's marketplace, resulting in severe injuries to Mr. Lucius Thorne, an alchemist. The victim was found gasping for breath and in critical condition due to a suspected poisoning.

Witnesses: Multiple witnesses observed a cloaked, hooded figure near Mr. Thorne's stall just before the incident. The suspect's appearance was unremarkable, average male height. The individual wore a hood, concealing their face. No further details available at this time.

Medical Assessment: Mr. Thorne was promptly attended to by a healer who confirmed that a poison was present in the victim’s system, but he was unable to identify it. First responders’ scans revealed a broken rib, which had punctured Mr. Thorne’s left lung. This break was likely due to a fall sustained while the victim was calling for help. He is currently in critical condition at Eldoria General Infirmary.

Evidence: A vial containing remnants of the poison was discovered at the crime scene. Analysis is underway to determine its origin.

Investigation: The City Watch is actively seeking surveillance charms to identify the cloaked suspect. Interviews with nearby shopkeepers and residents are ongoing to gather more information.

Conclusion: This report documents the incident involving Mr. Lucius Thorne in Eldoria's marketplace. The use of poison and the severity of the victim's injuries demand a thorough investigation. The City Watch is committed to identifying and apprehending the perpetrator.

[End of Report]

I was starting to lose all sense of time. I grew tired of counting the sunrises that refused to shine light on my situation. The world was empty, save for me. The absence of humanity allowed Mother Nature to take over the structures they left behind. Nets of greenery covered the buildings, and her attempts to hide the nothingness within were very apparent.

Vines clung to the concrete buildings, refusing to let them crumble. A gentle breeze ruffled the foliage of the dilapidated skyscrappers. Thousands of abandoned cars littered the streets, worn from the elements. The docks at the harbor still had fishing equipment strewn about. Billboards were torn and rusted from the neglect. The water was incredibly still. The quiet was so overbearing that I sometimes had to convince myself that the city just hadn’t awoken yet, and morning rush hour would soon disrupt the tranquility I was enjoying.

A recurring realization would crack my illusion when the breeze whispered its lonely truth. It was the only thing I heard. No cars, no conversations, no electrical hum, no birds, no insects, no crashing water at the port. It was completely derelict and the silence was beating down the walls of my sanity.

One day I awoke to find a vacant world with no explanation. I was determined that I would find someone if I looked hard enough, so I set off to some neighboring states. I took advantage of the unlocked cars that still had keys in the ignition, switching vehicles when I was out of gas. The suburban neighborhoods were the best place to swap, but I always dreaded them. They seemed more vacant somehow. It was unnerving seeing the forgotten toys in the algae covered pools and overgrown yards.

Since no one was around, many things were no longer in use. As guilty as I felt every time I took something, I reminded myself that it was a necessary means of survival. The food I grabbed at the convenience store would’ve expired if I hadn’t eaten it. No one was purchasing the clothes in the abandoned mall, so replacing my ripped jacket was justified. I worried less and less about someone returning to find their stuff missing when I continually came up empty handed on my search.

After several failed expeditions and many more empty buildings, my gut wrenching assumption was confirmed. Every single living thing on the planet was just.. gone. I slumped to the floor, sobs wracking my body. I was now acutely aware of the intense forlorn feeling in my stomach. The exhaustion and despair had finally set in, as had reality. I would never see my friends or family ever again, and I most likely wouldn’t see another person or living creature either.

I desperately hoped that I wasn’t actually awake, that this was just a horrible dream. I held onto that notion for months, especially because I knew a bit about lucid dreaming and some ways to distinguish dreams. I tested every method I remembered. I hypothesized that the only way to wake up was to find solid proof that I was asleep. However, I only dabbled in the subject, so I often found myself discrediting my own knowledge. Being able to read didn’t prove anything, I was just an outlier. My hands were solid in my dream because I just knew they were supposed to be. My tattoos and reflection all looked fine because I could vividly remember them. These things were normal this time because my subconscious decided they were, not because I wasn’t dreaming.

After I finally ran out of excuses to discount the experiment, I had to accept that every test had been a point against my theory. My confidence waned each time my theory was proven wrong. I refused to accept the alternative.

I sat in another eerie, desolate town, ruminating on my journey and my failed theory. Hopeless thoughts swarmed my mind as it fought to suppress the truth. Eventually, I realized I could no longer lie to myself.

I was never going to wake up.

I heard his quiet yearning for years. Every time he was dying to tell me how he felt and ultimately decided against it. He didn’t know that I heard each and every one of those thoughts, which meant he didn’t know that I diverted his attention every time he thought about acting on them. He would start wrestling with it, making a plan, and then I would either cause a distraction or make an excuse to leave.

I knew it was wrong to ignore his feelings, but he was my only friend and I didn’t feel the same way about him. If I let him confess, I’d have to reject him. Things would never be the same between us. I hoped that he would grow out of it, that someone else would catch his eye.

Then someone did. His thoughts no longer being tormented by his pining for me was a very welcome change. Once he officially told me about his crush, I encouraged him to pursue it and they eventually started dating. I could almost see the butterflies in both of their stomachs. Their thoughts were completely consumed by one another. She was deeply infatuated and he was love-struck. But ultimately, he was relieved that someone finally reciprocated his feelings.

Soon, he was barely thinking about me.

That was supposed to be a good thing. That’s all I’ve wanted for years. My mind was at a crossroads that had six intersecting streets. I didn’t want him like that, but now I was jealous of the girl that did. I began to only see him at school as all his time was spent with her. We went from speaking every day to speaking once a week.

I started to resent her. Their love for each other began to make me sick and I felt horrible about it. Neither of them were at fault here, but I couldn’t stop myself from blaming them. Maybe I only kept him as a friend because I was the center of his world. Now she’s the center of his world and I’m not even in the same solar system.

My arms burned as I frantically paddled, looking for any break on the shoreline where I could dock. My canoe rocked as I frantically paddled. Left, right, left, right, left, right, left…

I took a quick glance behind me. Three sets of eyes peeked at me from just above the water, getting bigger and bigger as they started to catch up to me. I had to focus.

I knew crocodiles were aggressive, but this felt extreme. If I realized they were going to chase me, I wouldn’t have gotten so close. I had to take notes on them somehow and I couldn’t see anything from a safe distance.

I felt like I’d been paddling for hours. My exhausted muscles were threatening to give out. I had two options: push on or fight them. I tried to paddle faster as I contemplated my choices.

Then my decision was made for me.

We weren’t even halfway to the camp and I was already regretting saying yes to this trip. I hate the outdoors, I hate the wilderness, I hate bugs. Camping is not my thing, but my friends talked me into it anyway.

A few hours later, we pulled up to a cozy looking cabin. I breathed a shy of relief, realizing I didn’t actually have to sleep in a tent. We unpacked our stuff and changed.

Of course hiking was the first activity we did. I pulled up my boots, trying to think of an excuse not to go. As I finished tying my laces, one of my friends grabbed my arm and dragged me outside with everyone else. So much for getting out of it. I braced myself as we started walking through a path in the woods.

After a few minutes, I began to notice birds in the trees, and beautiful plants I had never seen before. Everything was peaceful and quiet, and the trail itself wasn’t that bad. It was mostly smooth and flat, and it was clear that someone kept the foliage trimmed back so the path would stay clear.

“The trail gets a little rough up here, you guys,” shouted the leader of our little group. “It’s a bit of a steep climb, but we should be able to see the waterfall when we get to the top.”

Waterfall? I didn’t realize that was on the itinerary. I pushed ahead with the group, curiosity overriding my desire to rest my fatigued legs. We came to a root tangled, stair shaped path. It looked like a jungle gym, and I started to get a little excited thinking about trying to climb it.

You know, maybe camping wasn’t going to be that bad after all.

I tried so hard to listen to the captain’s orders. The rest of the crew was gone, I was the only person left on the ship. My knowledge of operating any watercraft stopped at steering a jet ski. This ship was a little bigger than a jet ski, and way more complicated. There were too many buttons and levers. And too many of them were rapidly blinking red.

He told me to find a big handle with… something… around it. My eyes scanned every button and switch until I came across a big lever encased in glass. That had to be it. ‘For emergency use only’. This definitely qualified as an emergency. The storm would swallow us whole if I didn’t do something now. I lifted the glass cover and pulled.

The red buttons were no longer blinking. In fact, every light in the room had turned off. My hand shook as I pressed button after button, hoping something would happen. My breath caught in my throat as I realized I messed up. I turned, hurriedly stumbling my way through the dark, but was met with quick footsteps as I reached the hall.

“What have you done?!” the captain shouted, breathless from his sprint. I didn’t need the lights to know the exact expression he was wearing.

“I- I don’t know, I just did what you asked! I pulled the handle!” I gestured toward the panel of buttons and levers, not thinking about the fact that he couldn’t see a foot in front of him.

He huffed angrily. “I said NOT the handle, kid. The button under it! You hit the emergency shut off!”

“But this IS an emergency!” I shouted, tears threatening to sting my windburn. “I thought that’s what you said to do!”

He yanked my arm and dragged me back up to the main deck. I shook him off as the icy sheets of rain stared to pelt me in the face. He slowly ambled to the middle of the deck, seemingly unfazed by the vengeful wind. He stood for what felt like ages, saying nothing, staring. The thick blanket of furious clouds were periodically illuminated by lightning flashes.

I grew restless, shouting “This isn’t ideal weather for stargazing, you know!” I hoped I had camouflaged the urgency in my voice. “Don’t we have to do something, like, right now?”

“There’s nothing to do.” He turned back to me, but his eyes never left the raging tempest. “After the emergency shut off has been activated, it takes several hours for everything to come back on.”

My stomach sank.

“We have minutes.”

They say that if you love something, you should let it go. They never tell you how hard that is. And how guilty you’ll feel, even if you know it’s the right decision. To love someone is to let them become a part of you. They have a home in your heart and a room in your mind. Now you have to learn to live without them occupying it. Learn how to fill the empty space. Learn a new routine that doesn’t involve their voice, their embrace, their comfort. Tell yourself it’s for the best.

“They’re better off. I’m better off.”

But do you really believe that?