Page 15 of When Night Falls

Until now.

I remove the invite from the trash and inspect it. It really is stunning. Soft, white, shimmer paper with black typography and gold lace wraps around the center of it all neatly tied up with a silk red ribbon. I gently pull the lace from the delicate paper so that I can read the details scripted along the front.

Masquerade

Saturday - 10pm

The Gilded Hollow

ticket & mask required

That’s tomorrow. Who in their right mind waits until the night before to hand out an invite to a masquerade party? That sounds like it requires full costume accommodations in which I don’t have, nor do I have the time to go looking for any. But despite me talking myself out of going, I stillwantto go.

I decide to entertain the idea and look up the venue on my phone but just like the mansion, it’s nowhere to be found. I huff and slide the invite onto the counter and head over to the pasta I just cooked. Despite the recipe stating it was a meal for one, there’s definitely way more than I’ll finish. I scoop the pasta into a bowl and put the rest in a container to refrigerate it for later.

I take my meal and walk into the living room but not before turning off the kitchen light and telling Stella goodnight. As I walk past the front door, something catches my eye.

Another black rose lays neatly on my coffee table.

How the fuck did that get in here?

I look around to make sure that no one snuck past me when I had my balcony door open, alarmed that someone really was here, stalking me.

I think to call the police, tell them that I received another gift from my stalker. That someone was in my home. But I don’t have proof. They won’t do anything. And really, I need to get my shit together and stop being so paranoid. This feeling that someone is out to get me has to stop, the monster died with my dad. I escaped the prison. I am free.

I’m safe in this town. So what if someone is leaving me roses and inviting me to parties? I ought to get out and introduce myself to society anyways. I don’t plan to run a bookstore and live alone for the rest of my life and with some kind of all-in-my-head agoraphobia disorder at that, do I?

I spoon a bit of my pasta into my mouth and think about how ridiculous I’m being, desperate to hear that whisper of a voice to tell me to calm down. But it doesn’t come.

I smile to myself, finding my situation slightly caustic in the way I attempted to stand up for myself against my family, but here I am doubting myself and questioning everything about my life right now. But also recognizing that I despise the things that make me feel like my life is being controlled by outside forces, all while craving them at the same time.

It’s this town. It’s Shadow Creek, it has to be. Crawling with mystery and darkness that matches my own.

This town is going to be my undoing and I think I kind of like it.

October 12th

Saturday morning came and went bleeding into the late afternoon. Business was just as busy as it had been the last two days which still surprises me, and the sudden surge of foot traffic came out of nowhere.

I close up shop and leave work feeling conflicted about what I’m going to do. Am I going to this party or am I going to ignore the undeniable and sudden urge I have to explore the purpose of the invite that was left for me last night?

Part of me hates that I want to go, but the other part of me is curious. I’ve never been invited to a party—other than the last one that ended up terribly for me—let alone something that seems as sophisticated as a masquerade. I don’t know anyone in this town other than the police officer from the other day. She’s the only one I’ve had a real conversation with since moving to town—besides the Edgar Allen Poe guy the other night. But is that where my social life starts and ends?

I have to eventually give in to being something other than a misanthrope adjacent, right? I mean, I've waited so long to be able to have freedom, why not use it?

I decide that instead of heading back to the apartment right away, I’ll wander Mainstreet and check out the other shops and boutiques that neighbor mine. I’ve been living in this town for nearly a month now and have yet to venture outside of my comfort zone, other than to therapy—which I have definitely decided to get rid of. It’s not doing me much good anyways.

I walk across the street to Beans and Blooms to grab a latte before I start my endeavor, hoping that I might find a mask to wear to the party tonight.

I introduced myself to all of the shop owners inside the shops I visited including the little mom and pop spice shop, the candy store, a small pizza joint that smelled like heaven, and a little clothing boutique where I bought the sexiest black dress. As usual, I felt like I gotlooksfrom them. Looks that peg me as an outsider and I don’t blame them; I am an outsider. But it makes me curl into myself knowing that they can so easily pick me apart from the normal crowd.

After purchasing a candle from the candle shop I'm in, I head toward the exit and step out onto the sidewalk. I decide to start heading back home realizing I won’t be finding what I’m really in search for. I feel myself deflate at the idea that I won't be able to attend this masquerade. I was starting to feel hope in stepping out of my comfort zone and possibly meeting . . .friends?

That idea sits like a small brick in my stomach. I've never really wanted to make friends before, but the hope is shattered as I suck it up and head back down the street toward my house. But before I make it too far, the next thing I know, something collides into me and I’m forced to the ground. My bags fall from my hand and my candle shatters.

There’s pain shooting into my skull from the collision.

“Shit, I’m so sorry.” A girl’s voice sounds from next to me, holding her head as well as she tries to get herself up to her feet.