Chapter 1

The train station was completely silent. If you could hear dust settling, that would be the only audible sound. A heavy fog hung over the tracks as the full moon shone brightly through the mist. There was a distant light that glowed through the thick forest, that of a passenger locomotive drawing nearer. Its whistle broke the silence, piercing the ears of everyone in town. Dogs began barking, bedroom lights could be seen turning on through the windows, and sleeping toddlers broke into tears at the sudden loud noise. It was an unusual occurrence for a train to stop at this town, but one determined passenger had finally reached his destination. 

The black train chugged further down the tracks, heaving as it pulled almost a dozen passenger cars behind it. The earth beneath quaked, and chinaware rattled within every home in town. Nearing the station, the steam engine groaned in relief as it slowed to a stop. A young man, who was the only passenger to disembark at this stop stepped onto the station's platform, saw the wooden sign with peeling paint that read; "Welcome to Palisade Harbor, a bustling community along the shore of Lake Superior. Established 1879." The sign indicated that the town was just over forty years old. He had pale skin and wore a dark palette of clothing, with a black coat and gray pants covering his body. His eyes were a bright, bold brown and his short curly hair shared the same hue. He set out down the street, noticing locals watching him suspiciously to see why the train had woken them. Darkness and fog shrouded the town in an aura of mystery. He made his way to his father's house, a place he had not been to in years. But after his graduation from boarding school it was finally time to return home.

He reached the porch and paused, looking up at the home he once held so dear. It was now dilapidated with an overwhelming air of melancholy hanging over it. In fact, it seemed like all the houses in his neighborhood were shells of their former selves. He walked up the stairs and slowly opened the creaky front door, making his way down the dimly lit hallway. Inside the living room was his father Oliver, sitting in a wheelchair next to a crackling fire.

"Father, I'm home," he announced.

The graying man lightly gasped as he turned to see his son. "Oh, look how big you've grown! It's wonderful to see you, Douglas. How are you doing?"

"It's strange seeing our community like this. It almost felt like my train was rolling into a ghost town."

Oliver chuckled at his son's comment. "Yes, just imagine what living here all of these years has felt like."

"I can't," Doug smiled. "Speaking of which, how are you?"

Oliver sighed. "Oh, you know. Just living day by day. Things certainly haven't gotten any better since you last saw me."

Doug looked at his father. His legs had been amputated, and there was a grisly scar on his head. He also noticed that his body was covered in burn scars, which he found strange because the crippling injury originated from a mining tunnel collapse that did not involve any explosives or fire. But Doug brushed this aside for now.

He hugged Oliver. "I missed you so much," he told him sincerely. "I was gone for so long."

"I know," his father replied weakly. "I'm sorry I wasn't able to take care of you all these years, and that you were sent away."

"Don't worry father," comforting him to ease the man's guilt. "I could never be angry with you, and I understand now why it happened."

Oliver smiled. "Thank you son."

Throughout the years guilt welled up inside of Doug, fearing he'd left his father behind. But as they discussed their past he realized that Oliver had made that sacrifice out of love, only wishing for his son to have a happy childhood away from the struggles of Palisade Harbor.

As the night went on, they shared old memories and laughed, simply enjoying each other's company once again. Doug occasionally noticed his father look away sadly, as if there was something below the surface of their reunion that troubled him.

"Father? Is there something wrong?"

His father sighed. "I'm sorry, I didn't think you would notice," he responded. "I wish to tell you about your mother. But we've only just reunited, and now isn't the time."

Although Doug's curiosity was piqued, he nodded in understanding that his father would explain when he was comfortable doing so.

As the two sat in the living room, they made plans for the days ahead. Doug would see to chores that Oliver had been incapable of doing, bringing joy back into their once vibrant home. Doug continued stoking the fire, and the night burned as brightly as its flames.

~

In the following days, Doug was diligent in tidying up the house; clearing cobwebs, organizing the clutter, and dusting the long neglected furniture. Oliver, although limited to the constraints of his wheelchair, did his utmost to help. He made sure his son had the supplies and tools he needed, even cutting into his own savings to aid the boy's efforts. As the house was taking shape Doug and Oliver shared visions of repainting it both inside and out, shingling the roof, and other projects that had gone unfinished for far too long. It seemed their time together brought out the best in both of them.

One sunny morning, Doug decided to take a break from renovations and explore the town. As he walked down the cracked streets, abandoned and dilapidated buildings towered above him. There were also many inhabited buildings, but nobody seemed to be outside enjoying the beautiful weather. He noticed familiar structures from his childhood such as the abandoned cinema, the park that he used to play in, now fenced off and overgrown with weeds, and abandoned houses that his old friends had once lived in.

In front of a decently well-kept white house was a young child playing in the yard. Doug waved at her, and to his surprise, she waved back smiling.

"Hello, how are you this afternoon?" He greeted her warmly.

"I'm good, mister!" the child giggled. "What's your name?"

"I'm Douglas," he replied. "And you?"

"Abigail," she answered. "Everybody here is so boring. but you don't seem that way."

"Ah, well thank you" said Doug. Suddenly, her smile disappeared as she focused more intently on him. It seemed as though she noticed something strange. "You're different, aren't you?" she questioned. "Not like everyone else in this town."

Puzzled, Doug asked "What do you mean?"

The girl's mother burst out the front door and grabbed her hand. "You mustn't talk to strangers, Abigail. You know that."

"Sorry mother," sighed Abigail, following her inside and looking back at Doug as she was tugged along.

Rather shook by this encounter, Doug continued down to the beach. He admired the vast sea of freshwater that made up Lake Superior. Off in the distance, there was a sailboat gliding across the water. He pondered where it was going, knowing full well that no ship would ever make port in the desolate town of Palisade Harbor. He wondered if they even knew the town's name, or if it was just a distant array of buildings along the shoreline to passers by.

The town did have its own marina, but like the houses, the boats were mostly abandoned and overcome by years of decay. Someone could easily steal a vessel in the middle of the night and sail away, going completely unnoticed.

The rest of his walk proved uneventful, although he did have a strange feeling in his gut, almost as if he was being watched. Ignoring this suspicion for now, Doug made his way home. He walked back through the misty streets, noticing things that had eluded him on the trip there. Surprisingly, there was a lonely little corner shop that was still open, decorated modestly with some withering flowers.

Upon walking through the front door, the shelves were stocked with all sorts of essentials including canned food, snacks, medicines, and beverages. No alcohol though, as that had been prohibited while Doug was away. He inferred that this must be where all the residents did their shopping. He distantly remembered that there had previously been a larger general store somewhere in town, but this little shop was currently the sole option.

There was a picture frame on the wall that contained an antique painting of a beautiful city, once vibrant with color and culture. It displayed a crowd of people out in the street dancing with gorgeous suits and dresses, seeming to depict some sort of festival. Along the border of the painting was some writing not part of the original design, appearing to have been defaced quite recently. In black paint the message read "SAVE PALISADE HARBOR." Doug pondered the mysterious message written before him, accidentally making eye contact with the gray-haired shopkeeper. She watched him suspiciously, likely expecting the teenager to steal something. To avoid making a bad impression, he grabbed a can of peaches and paid for it with the coins in his pocket. He left the store holding the canned fruit in his hand. He began the return journey home, winding his way through town while contemplating the defaced painting.

Doug walked up the path to his house and entered the creaky front door, noticing his father taking a late morning nap next to the window. He made the way to his own bedroom, which remained quite undecorated, and sat in his bed. For some reason he couldn't shake the thought of that girl from earlier. Something about the way her mood changed so suddenly from giddy and childlike to a serious tone. What could she have possibly meant by, "You're different, aren't you?" Ultimately he brushed off these thoughts. She was only a child after all, and was probably just spouting nonsense.

Doug lay down and nestled under the covers, he hadn't gotten much sleep the previous night due to a nightmare. Feeling comfortable and warm with his father asleep in the next room, he allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

 ~

Douglas awoke after a satisfying nap, stretched his arms and let out a deep yawn. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he opened the window blinds and saw that it was already dark outside with a heavy fog blanketing the town again. A bit disappointed that he had slept the entire day away, he opened the door and left his room. As much as he rubbed his eyes, the blurriness wouldn't go away and was accompanied by a light ringing in his ears. 

In the living room Doug noticed the fireplace still contained glowing embers from the night before. There was a haunting chill that hung low in the air burrowing its way under his skin, invading his oul. He had a strange sense that the lack of fire was not the source of this chilled feeling. He turned and began walking towards his father's room. "Father?" Doug called out, opening the door. "Father, something isn't right."

To his horror, upon entering the room Doug saw that Oliver's bed was empty and his wheelchair was gone.

 Panic set in. "Father!" Doug exclaimed. He ran to the front door, hoping perhaps his father was just smoking his pipe on the front porch. But this was not the case, and Oliver was nowhere to be found. A heavy fog had fallen over the town which only made matters worse.

Oliver noticed the ground start to shake rhythmically as if an army was marching off in the distance. The dusk breeze carried a haunting chant toward him, a sound that felt unexplainable. He stood frozen on the porch, watching and listening as the strange sound grew nearer. His heart was pounding with fear and dread. Doug began looking back and forth frantically trying to find the source.

Down the street through the fog, silhouettes turned the corner and began walking toward the house. The mass of people carried lanterns and torches that emitted a haunting glow around them, burning through the mist as they marched toward Doug's house.

Now he was truly afraid. Doug could only watch as the mob made their way toward him, their gait almost resembling some sort of stumbling creature rather than a human. They continued chanting and the words were now understandable.

"Leave this place!" they shouted in unison. "Leave this place! Leave!"

Doug shrieked and ran inside the house, closing the door behind him. The mob made their way to his front porch and were now pounding on the door, walls, and windows, still chanting, "Leave! Leave this place, leave!"

Doug ran into his father's room to see if he had any weapons that could be useful. He opened the nightstand drawer and found a dull old Swiss army knife. Holding the blade in his right hand, he made his way to the living room where he would make a stand against the mob. They were now banging on all sides of the house, and he knew there was no escape nor hiding.

But suddenly, the pounding and chanting stopped.

Confused and still gripping the knife with all his might, Doug walked to the front window and saw that everyone was gone and the heavy fog had been lifted. He looked up and saw a sky full of stars, and the moon shone through the glass.

He then heard a single set of light footsteps behind him and gasping, turned around. It was a woman with long, flowing blonde hair and piercing gray eyes. There could be no mistake, it was Doug's mother.

"My son," her voice echoed soothingly. "It's wonderful to see you."

For some reason seeing his mother filled Doug with terror far greater than he had felt from his father's disappearance, or from the chanting mob. He screamed at the top of his lungs, and her eyes filled with sorrow at his fear.

Doug's screaming did not stop as his head shot up from his pillow. His blankets were drenched in sweat. He looked outside and saw the sun once again. It had all been just a nightmare.

"Doug? Is everything okay?" his father opened the door and rolled his wheelchair into the room.

The boy was so relieved to see his father that he ran over and gave him a big hug. Oliver seemed a little confused, but embraced his son and did what he could to comfort him.

"Yes, I'm fine," Doug said. "Just a bad dream."