The next morning arrived bright and still. Alex came downstairs, the faint scent of coffee and toasted bread drifting through the air. Grey was already in the kitchen, humming softly to himself while flipping eggs in the pan. The sizzling sound filled the silence, cozy and familiar.
"Morning," Alex said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
"Morning," Grey replied, glancing over with a faint smile. "Nice weather today, isn't it?
Alex nodded, settling at the table. "Yeah, looks like it'll be a warm day.
After a few minutes of light chatter about the weather and how calm the morning seemed, they sat across from one another at the table, sharing the simple meal in quiet comfort. The sound of clinking plates filled the small cabin before Grey broke the silence.
"So, no school today?" he asked casually.
Alex swallowed a bite of bread. "Yeah, it's off today. Some kind of maintenance thing, I guess."
Grey nodded slowly. "Alright then. That means you'll be home alone today." His tone grew slightly serious. "I'll be back late, maybe after at 10 pm. So make sure you're careful, understood?"
Alex looked up. "Sure."
"I mean it," Grey continued with a trace of worry in his voice. "When it gets dark, keep the doors and windows locked. And if any stranger calls or knocks—don't open the door, alright?"
Alex sighed, his lips curving into a half-smile. "Okay, okay. I get it. You don't have to nag me."
Grey raised an eyebrow, the faintest ghost of amusement in his eyes.
"I'm not a kid anymore," Alex added, crossing his arms with mock annoyance. "I'm almost an adult now. You don't need to remind me about everything."
Grey only smiled, a quiet, knowing expression that said he would always worry, no matter how old Alex became. The moment hung between them—half ordinary, half weighted with an unspoken sense of foreboding—before life resumed its steady rhythm once more.
Before leaving for work, Grey turned to Alex near the doorway and said, "There's not much left in the fridge. Could you get some groceries today?" He took out his wallet, handed Alex a few bills, and added with a small grin, "Don't forget the essentials. Use the list I left on the counter."
Alex nodded. "Sure, I'll go later. Don't worry."
After Grey's car disappeared down the road, the house fell into its usual quiet rhythm. Alex wandered back to his room, where sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, creating gentle ripples of light on his desk. He spent some time studying, flipping through a couple of his schoolbooks, though his focus drifted occasionally toward the mystery of the missing diary. The unease from previous nights still lingered faintly in the corners of his mind but was dulled by the calm routine of the morning.
By 11 a.m., after a bit of rest and reading, Alex straightened up from his desk chair. He stretched, changed into a fresh shirt, and grabbed his wallet from the table. The grocery list waited on the counter, neatly written in Grey's precise handwriting—milk, bread, eggs, some vegetables and other simple staples.
He folded the note and stuffed it into his pocket. Grabbing his bicycle keys, he took one last glance around the quiet cabin before stepping outside. The weather was bright, the morning air still cool, and the sound of the forest in the distance felt almost peaceful. Alex took a deep breath and said softly to himself, "Alright. Let's get this done."
Then he set off down the dirt road, the wheels of his blue bicycle cutting smoothly through the stillness of the day.
The late morning sun hung high above the quiet road as Alex pedaled his bicycle carefully, the shopping bags tied securely to the back. The ride home was peaceful at first—the wind brushed his hair, and the rustle of leaves followed him like a whisper. But suddenly, a sharp metallic snap echoed. The pedals spun uselessly beneath his feet. Before Alex could react, the chain broke completely, jolting the bicycle sideways. He hit the ground, his hands and knees scraping against the rough dirt road.
For a moment, he sat dazed in the soft dust, pain blooming in bright stings across his palms and shins. Mud streaked his clothes, and tiny streaks of blood welled up where the gravel had bitten into his skin. He was lucky—no cars were coming down this empty stretch, or the fall could have been far worse.
Groaning softly, Alex stood, checking the bent chain dangling helplessly near the pedals. With a sigh, he gathered his scattered grocery bags and pushed the damaged cycle toward the nearest repair shop, a few blocks down.
The shop smelled of oil, metal, and rubber. The middle‑aged mechanic looked up from his workbench and offered a sympathetic nod as Alex wheeled in the bike. After a brief inspection, the man straightened and said, "The chain's snapped in two places. Nothing serious, but it'll take a while to set right. Come back in the afternoon—I'll have it ready by then."
Alex thanked him, left the bicycle leaning at the wall, and stepped back into the sunlight with his groceries weighing down his arms. The long walk home began quietly, each step sinking slightly into the dusty road.
Halfway along the path, something caught his attention—a stone well, old and cracked, standing alone by the roadside. There were no houses around, only a faint outline of a home visible deeper in the trees ahead. Drawn by curiosity and the need to clean his scraped palms, Alex turned toward it.
The well's rim was lined with moss, and its stones were damp with age. Peering down, he saw dark, glimmering water at the bottom. The surface reflected the pale blue of the sky. He crouched, carefully scooped a handful, and let the cool water run over his bruised hands and knees. The chill stung sharply but soothed the sting of the cuts.
As he rinsed away the mud and blood, the forest around him was still—unnaturally still. Not a bird called, not a leaf stirred. The silence pressed close, heavy enough to make him glance over his shoulder.
Only the trees looked back.
Alex put down his grocery bags on the ground near the old stone well. He reached for the bucket hanging on a nearby wooden peg, filling it with cold, clear water from the depths below. The chill of the water shocked his skin as he dipped his hands and began to wash away the dirt and blood from the fall. The cold stung sharply but was refreshing, a momentary relief from the ache.
As he hurried back to grab another bucket, a sudden force pushed him hard from behind. Time seemed to slow as Alex lost his balance, arms flailing, and plunged headfirst into the well. The chilly water engulfed him instantly, the darkness swallowing the light above as he tumbled down into the narrow stone shaft.
He gasped, fighting for air, the freezing water biting into his skin. Panic surged through him as he struggled to find footing in the slippery, deep well. Above, the bucket swung gently, creaking on its rope, the world above distant and unreachable.
Alex's mind raced—why had he been pushed? Was it someone from the forest, a stranger lurking nearby, or something darker connected to the secrets he was uncovering? The silence pressed on him beneath the earth, broken only by the echo of dripping water from the old stone walls.