Shadows of Moonhaven

MELISSA'S POV

I press the record button on my phone, watching the audio wavelengths spike as I speak.

"Voice memo fifty-two. Today marks exactly one year since everything changed. Everyone says I make impulsive decisions—they're probably right. But I'm doing it anyway. Moving to a town with a ridiculous name to live with Aunt Naomi and attend the university I once dreamed about. Would Philip and Audrey approve? I think they'd want me to find happiness again, wherever that might be.

"I need this change. This fresh air. This escape from a house full of ghosts and memories. I can't keep walking past their empty bedroom every morning, pretending someday they'll walk out of it again.

"Naomi's town—Moonhaven—sounds like something from a fantasy novel, but it's real. It's close to Westlake University, and Naomi promised to give me space while making sure I don't completely fall apart. She's always been the cool aunt—the one who taught me how to apply eyeliner and snuck me my first beer. Never thought I'd end up living with her under these circumstances though.

"New town. New school. New me. That's the plan anyway.

"End of memo."

I tap the stop button and save the file to my cloud folder labeled "Thoughts." It's my version of a diary—less permanent than ink on paper, more honest somehow. The sound of my own voice helps me process things better than writing ever did.

I glance around my childhood bedroom one final time. The walls are bare now, photo hooks leaving tiny wounds in the paint. My suitcase sits by the door, containing only what matters most—favorite clothes, the leather photo album of family pictures, and a few trinkets that still make me smile.

The rest stays behind, perfectly arranged like a museum exhibit of my former life. I'm not selling this place. Not yet. Maybe never. But I can't stay here anymore.

I drag my fingers across my dresser, leaving trails in the thin layer of dust that's already forming. "I'll be back," I whisper, though I'm not sure if I'm making a promise or just saying what I think I should.

After double-checking all the windows and taps, I haul my luggage downstairs. At the front door, I take one deep breath, then step outside and lock up.

"So you're really leaving, huh?"

I turn to find Mrs. Calloway, my neighbor, pruning her rosebushes with surgical precision. She's been with the police department for twenty years and treats her garden with the same methodical attention she gives crime scenes.

"Yes, ma'am. Heading to Moonhaven today."

"That old place?" She raises an eyebrow. "Well, I'll keep an eye on the house. Make sure no teenagers decide it's the perfect spot for their parties."

"I appreciate that."

"You know, my spare room is always available if you'd rather stay in town. I'd gladly trade in that useless son of mine for you." Her eyes crinkle with humor.

"I heard that!" comes a muffled shout from inside her house.

"You were meant to!" she calls back before winking at me.

The casual banter between them makes my chest ache. I force a smile, but it feels like stretching a muscle I haven't used in months.

"Take care of yourself, Melissa," Mrs. Calloway says, her expression softening. "Your parents would be proud of you."

I nod, not trusting my voice, and wheel my suitcase to the waiting rideshare car.

The driver helps me load my luggage, and I settle into the backseat for the first leg of my journey. Three hours to the airport, a four-hour flight, then another two hours by bus to Moonhaven. It's going to be a long day.

I download several podcasts, two audiobooks, and update my playlists before the car even leaves my neighborhood. The driver attempts small talk, but I plug in my earbuds—the universal signal for "not now, thanks"—and watch my childhood home disappear in the side mirror.

Sometimes I wonder if they're watching me from somewhere, nodding in approval or shaking their heads at my choices. Philip and Audrey weren't my biological parents, but they were the only ones I'd ever known. Until last year, when a drunk driver took them both in an instant, leaving me alone at nineteen.

I close my eyes and let the podcast voices drown out my thoughts.

Nine hours later, I step off the bus at Moonhaven's only station—a small building that looks like it was last renovated when disco was popular. My body aches from sitting so long, and my brain feels fuzzy from travel fatigue.

The air here smells different—crisp, with hints of pine and something else I can't quite identify. The town sits nestled against dense forest, with mountains visible in the distance. It's beautiful in a wild, untamed way.

I check my phone to confirm Naomi's address, then grab my luggage and start walking. The bus driver had given me an odd look when I mentioned my destination, as if Moonhaven was somehow notorious. But the streets look normal enough—quaint shops, a few restaurants, people going about their business.

Yet something feels off. There's a strange energy here, like static electricity just beneath my skin. I find myself drawn forward, not just by the need to reach Naomi's house but by something more primal. It's as if the town itself is pulling me in.

I shake off the feeling and focus on finding the right street. After about fifteen minutes of walking, I spot a house that matches Naomi's description—two stories, blue trim, with wind chimes hanging from the front porch. One of them looks familiar—a handmade creation I'd sent her years ago.

I approach the front door and ring the bell twice. No answer. I try again, then pull out my phone to call her.

"Hello? Aunt Naomi? It's Melissa. I'm standing outside your house."

"Oh shit!" Her voice comes through clearly. "Melissa, I'm so sorry! I completely lost track of time. I'm at the market grabbing some things for your welcome dinner. Can you hang tight for about thirty minutes? There's a great little café just down the street called The Howling Bean. Weird name, great coffee."

I smile despite my exhaustion. Typical Naomi—always running late but with the best intentions.

"No problem. I could use some caffeine anyway."

"Perfect! I'll text when I'm heading back. And Melissa? I'm really glad you're here."

After we hang up, I stash my larger suitcase behind a bush near her porch, keeping only my backpack with valuables. Then I head toward the café she mentioned.

The Howling Bean sits on a corner, its large windows giving a view of the street. From the outside, it looks ordinary, but when I step inside, I'm struck by the contrast. The interior is warm and inviting, with exposed brick walls, comfortable seating, and an impressive array of artwork featuring wolves and forests.

"Welcome to The Bean!" calls a woman from behind the counter. "First time here?"

"Is it that obvious?" I ask, approaching the register.

"Small town," she says with a smile. "We notice new faces. What can I get you?"

I scan the menu. "Could I get an iced mocha with extra chocolate and whipped cream? And maybe one of those turkey sandwiches?"

"Coming right up. Take a seat anywhere, and I'll bring it over."

I choose a small table by the window, watching the street while I wait. The café has a few other customers—an elderly couple sharing a pastry, a woman typing furiously on a laptop, and a man reading a newspaper.

My food arrives quickly, and I thank the server before taking a grateful sip of my mocha. The chocolate is rich and dark, exactly what I needed after the long journey.

I'm halfway through my sandwich when the café door swings open, and a group of people around my age bursts in, laughing and talking loudly. They're all ridiculously attractive—the kind of good-looking that makes you wonder if there's something in the local water.

"Guys, inside voices, please," the counter woman calls out. "We've got a visitor." She nods in my direction.

Suddenly, all eyes turn to me. I freeze mid-bite, feeling like a deer caught in headlights.

One of the guys—tall with tousled brown hair and shoulders that fill out his t-shirt impressively—breaks away from the group and approaches my table.

"Hey there," he says with an easy smile. "New in town?"

I swallow my bite of sandwich. "Just arrived."

"I'm Owen," he extends his hand. "And you are?"

"Melissa."

"Melissa," he repeats, as if testing how my name feels on his tongue. "What brings you to our little corner of nowhere?"

"University. I'm starting at Westlake next month."

His eyes light up. "No way! We're all heading there too. Hey guys," he calls to his friends, "come meet Melissa. She's going to Westlake."

The entire group begins to migrate toward my table, and I feel a wave of anxiety. I haven't dealt with this much social interaction in months.

"I'm Owen," he says again, unnecessarily. "That's Martha, Felix, Jasper, Willow, Trinity, Eric, and Lucas." He points to each person as he names them.

They all smile and nod, studying me with unusual intensity. There's something almost predatory about their collective gaze, though their expressions are friendly enough.

"Nice to meet you all," I manage, then quickly gather my things. "But I should get going. My aunt's expecting me."

"Who's your aunt?" asks the girl named Martha.

"Naomi Rogers."

A look passes between them that I can't interpret.

"Naomi's great," Owen says. "She comes to all the community events."

"Right," I say, standing. "Well, I'll probably see you all around campus."

"Definitely," Owen confirms. "Maybe we can show you around town sometime? There's more to Moonhaven than meets the eye."

Something in his tone makes me pause. There's a hint of... something. A secret knowledge. I get that strange feeling again—the pull, the sense that this place is more than it appears.

"Maybe," I say noncommittally, then head for the door.

Outside, I take a deep breath of fresh air. The interaction left me feeling off-balance, though I couldn't say exactly why. My phone buzzes with a text from Naomi saying she's home, so I make my way back to her house.

This time when I arrive, the door swings open before I can knock. Naomi stands there, looking exactly as I remember—eternally youthful with her dark hair and bright eyes. At thirty-four, she could easily pass for mid-twenties.

"Melissa!" she exclaims, pulling me into a tight hug. "Look at you! All grown up and gorgeous."

I return the hug, surprised by how good it feels to be held. "It's good to see you, Naomi."

She ushers me inside, chattering about how she's prepared my room and stocked the kitchen with all my favorite snacks. The house is cozy and eclectic, filled with artwork and trinkets from her travels.

"I've got your room all set up upstairs," she says. "The blue one with the bay window. I remember how you always loved that room when you visited as a kid."

"Thanks," I say, genuinely touched by her thoughtfulness.

"Now, there's something I should mention," she continues, leading me to the kitchen where grocery bags cover the counter. "I don't actually stay here all the time. I spend most nights at Victor's place—he's my boyfriend. Well, more than boyfriend really."

"Oh?" I raise an eyebrow.

"He's my mate," she says matter-of-factly, then busies herself unpacking groceries.

"Mate? As in soulmate?" The term seems oddly formal, almost primal.

"Exactly that," she nods. "But don't worry, I'll be here plenty. And the house is all yours when I'm not. I just didn't want you to feel like I was abandoning you if I'm not here every night."

"I appreciate the honesty," I say, helping her put away the food. "And I don't mind having some space. That's part of why I came here—to start figuring out who I am now."

Naomi pauses and looks at me with unexpected intensity. "You'll find out more than you expect in this town, Melissa. Moonhaven has a way of revealing things—about yourself and others."

There's something in her tone that makes me think she's not just making conversation. Before I can ask what she means, she changes the subject.

"I've got to run back to Victor's tonight—we had plans before I knew exactly when you'd arrive. Will you be okay here alone your first night?"

"Of course," I assure her. "I'm a big girl."

"Just remember to lock up tight after dark," she says, her expression serious. "The forests around here are home to wolves. They get curious about newcomers."

The way she says it makes me think she's not just talking about actual wolves, but I'm too tired to puzzle it out now.

"I'll be careful," I promise.

After helping me bring in my luggage and showing me around the house, Naomi grabs her overnight bag.

"There's food in the fridge, Netflix password is on the remote, and I'm just a phone call away if you need anything," she says, giving me another hug. "We'll catch up properly tomorrow, okay?"

After she leaves, I wander through the quiet house, taking in my new temporary home. It's comfortable but unfamiliar—a perfect metaphor for this next chapter of my life.

I unpack a few essentials, then collapse onto the bed in the blue room. Through the bay window, I can see the edge of the forest, dark and mysterious in the fading light. That strange feeling returns—the pull, the sense of something waiting.

As I drift toward sleep, I could swear I hear a distant howl from the woods. Probably just the wind, I tell myself. Or maybe it's Moonhaven's way of saying welcome.

Either way, I've arrived. New town, new beginning. Whatever secrets this place holds, I'll face them tomorrow.