Ashtletown is a place where the
rain seems to whisper secrets, and the streets hold memories people wish they could forget. Behind the blooming gardens and friendly waves, there's a silence so thick it feels... unnatural. Like the town is holding its breath.
This town doesn't see many outsiders. Tucked away beyond the buzzing highways, it lives in its own time loop. The locals smile. They wave. They chat about the weather. But their eyes? Their eyes carry something else.
The fences are chipped but freshly painted. The churches ring bells that no one listens to anymore. There's the scent of pine... mixed with something faintly metallic. A hidden rot.
And at the center of it all-
Stands the town's golden boy.
Mr. Jason Jules.
The young detective with a heart of gold, or so everyone believes.
Educated in psychology at Cambridge, he could've stayed in London, solved big crimes, and chased headlines. But no. He returned. To Ashtletown. "To give back," he said.
Tall, refined, and sharply dressed, Mr. Jules walks with grace and speaks like a man who sees into your soul. The children adore him. The elderly trust him. The officers envy him.
They call him "The Mind of Ashtletown."
His quote is printed on a plaque in the mayor's office:
"The truth doesn't hide in darkness. It's right out in the open."
---
It was on a rare snowy morning that something changed.
Mr. Jules sat by the window in his apartment, sipping bitter black coffee and scanning through an old issue of The Journal of Behavioral Studies. The fireplace crackled softly behind him.
Then-click.
The mail slot opened.
He didn't look up immediately. But when he did, there it was-an envelope. No name. No stamp. No return address. Just white, sealed, and... cold to the touch.
He tore it open.
Inside?
One line.
"S is gone. O is next."
He blinked once. Then again.
And for just a moment... a subtle, brief smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
But no one saw it.
He folded the letter slowly and placed it between the pages of his journal. Then, he stood, walked over to the mirror, and straightened his coat collar.
"Let's begin," he whispered.
---
The next day, the news broke:
Serena Ellis, 19 years old. Outspoken. Vibrant. A journalism intern. Missing.
Her shoes were found at the edge of Lake Dellen. No sign of her. Just the echo of her voice from old radio clips playing in the newsroom.
The town shivered. Not just from the cold... but from the fear.
---
A vigil was held. People brought candles, flowers, and tears. And as expected-
Mr. Jules stepped forward.
"Whoever is behind this," he said, standing on the church steps,
"They aren't just hurting. They're trying to speak. And I intend to listen."
The people of Ashtletown turned to him like he was hoping to wear a trench coat.
Like their lives depended on it.
"If you know anything-anything-please come to me."
"No fear. No shame. I'm here for you."
---
That week, he visited Serena's parents, comforting them and gathering details. He took notes. Photos. Even checked her childhood diaries. He stayed late, never once losing his calm.
But behind the scenes... he was playing a different game.
---
Two days later:
Another letter. Same style. Same cold feel.
"O is quiet now. U follows."
And like clockwork...
Oliver Grant-the town librarian. 27 years old. Shy. Kind-hearted. Obsessive collector of history books.
Dead.
A fall from his apartment rooftop.
But Mr. Jules, calm as always, declared:
"This isn't a coincidence. This is a pattern. The killer is spelling something."
The officers hesitated. A code? A sequence?
But Mr. Jules was already ahead
"S. O. U. T. H. That's what we have so far. But why SOUTH?"
"Is it a direction?"
"A place?"
"Or perhaps... a message?"
---
Every house on South Street was searched. Every camera checked. Nothing.
But Mr. Jules was... smiling again. Behind closed doors.
At the police station, he helped the chief draw connections. Built profiles. Calmed the townsfolk. Suggested night patrols. He was their shield. Their guiding light.
But little did they know...
He was also the architect of their fear.
---
Victim 3: Ulyssa Boone.
High school teacher. Strict. Mysterious past. Last seen walking her dog. The dog returned. She didn't.
Mr. Jules told her students:
"She was a pillar of this school. This town. Let's not let fear take over our hearts."
He even organized the memorial. Gave a speech. Brought flowers.
Everyone cried. Everyone hugged him.
---
Victim 4: Thomas Reid.
The man who once bullied Mr. Jules in primary school.
He was found in his garage-carbon monoxide poisoning.
People called it suicide. Mr. Jules said:
"He had regrets. But even broken souls don't deserve this fate. Someone did this."
---
Victim 5: Hannah Bloom.
Only 16. Talented painter. She once painted a mural of Ashtletown's heroes-Mr. Jules in the center.
Her canvas was found slashed. She was gone.
Jules' reaction? Public devastation.
"This... This isn't just a crime. This is poetry. The killer is crafting a message. And we must decipher it before it ends."