The morning sun filtered through the blinds of Emma Collins' small but cluttered apartment, casting slanted shadows on the walls. Emma, a dedicated journalist with an insatiable curiosity, sipped her coffee as she scanned the headlines on her laptop. Her phone buzzed, drawing her attention away. It was her editor, Mike Harris.
“Emma, got a minute?” Mike’s gruff voice sounded more urgent than usual.
“Sure, Mike. What’s up?” Emma replied, setting her coffee down.
“I got something that might interest you. An old case from a small town called Blackwood. Ever heard of the Devil's Crossing?”
Emma frowned, racking her brain. “Vaguely. Isn’t that the place with the creepy old bridge?”
“Exactly. The bridge where people have disappeared. Locals say it’s haunted, cursed, you name it. I just got a letter about it, addressed specifically to you.”
Emma's curiosity was piqued. “To me? That’s unusual. What does it say?”
“Hold on, let me read it to you,” Mike said, the sound of paper rustling coming through the phone. “‘Dear Ms. Collins, I hope this letter finds you well. You may not know me, but I know of your reputation as a relentless seeker of truth. There have been numerous disappearances over the years associated with the Devil's Crossing. I believe you are the only one who can uncover the truth. Please come to Blackwood. Yours sincerely, A Friend.’”
Emma felt a chill run down her spine. “That’s… cryptic. But why me?”
“Who knows? Maybe your reputation precedes you,” Mike said with a chuckle. “What do you think?”
Emma didn’t hesitate. “I think I need to pack my bags.”
---
The drive to Blackwood was long and uneventful, the scenery shifting from bustling city streets to quiet, rural landscapes. Emma's mind raced with thoughts of the mysterious letter and the eerie bridge. By the time she reached the town, the sun was setting, casting an orange glow over the quaint streets.
She parked her car outside the only inn in town, the Blackwood Arms, a charming yet slightly dilapidated building that had clearly seen better days. The innkeeper, a middle-aged woman with a kind smile, greeted her warmly.
“Welcome to Blackwood, dear. You must be Emma Collins. We’ve been expecting you,” she said, handing over a key.
“Expecting me? How did you know I was coming?” Emma asked, surprised.
“Word travels fast in a small town,” the innkeeper replied with a wink. “I’m Margaret, by the way. If you need anything, just let me know.”
Emma nodded, still feeling a bit off balance. She took her key and headed to her room, a cozy space with a view of the distant bridge. She unpacked quickly, her mind already planning her first steps.
---
Later that evening, Emma decided to visit the local pub, The Rusty Nail, hoping to gather some information. The pub was a hub of activity, filled with locals sharing drinks and stories. She approached the bar and ordered a drink, striking up a conversation with the bartender.
“What brings you to our little town?” the bartender, a burly man named Jack, asked as he handed her a glass of whiskey.
“I’m a journalist. Came to look into the stories about the Devil's Crossing,” Emma said, watching his reaction closely.
Jack’s expression darkened. “Not much to look into, if you ask me. Just a bunch of old wives’ tales and ghost stories.”
“But there have been real disappearances, haven’t there?” Emma pressed.
Jack sighed, leaning closer. “Listen, lady, the bridge is bad news. Folks around here know to stay away from it, especially after dark. If you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”
Before Emma could respond, an elderly man sitting nearby chimed in. “Jack’s right, miss. My brother disappeared on that bridge twenty years ago. Never found a trace of him.”
Emma turned to the man, her interest piqued. “I’m sorry to hear that. Can you tell me more about what happened?”
The man, whose name was Walter, nodded solemnly. “It was a night like any other. My brother, Thomas, was walking home from a friend’s house. He decided to take a shortcut across the bridge. That was the last anyone saw of him. The police searched for weeks, but it was like he vanished into thin air.”
As Walter spoke, the pub grew quieter, the patrons listening intently. Emma felt the weight of their collective fear and sorrow.
“Do you believe the bridge is cursed?” she asked softly.
Walter took a deep breath. “I don’t know about curses, but I know that bridge has taken too many lives. If you’re really here to find out the truth, be careful. There are things out there we don’t understand.”
Emma nodded, feeling the gravity of his words. She thanked him and finished her drink, deciding to call it a night. As she left the pub, the words of the locals echoed in her mind. She knew she was stepping into something far darker and more complex than she had anticipated.
---
Back in her room, Emma reviewed her notes and formulated a plan. She would start by visiting the bridge during the day, looking for any clues that might shed light on the disappearances. She also needed to find out more about the town’s history and any past investigations.
The next morning, Emma made her way to the bridge. The Devil's Crossing was an imposing structure, its iron framework twisted and covered in rust. The air around it felt colder, as if the bridge itself exuded a chill. She took out her camera and began documenting the area, noting anything unusual.
As she walked across the bridge, she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. The sound of her footsteps echoed hollowly, mingling with the whispers of the wind. She stopped in the middle, peering over the edge into the dark waters below.
“Looking for something?” a voice startled her. Emma turned to see a young man, perhaps in his early thirties, standing at the end of the bridge.
“I’m Emma Collins, a journalist. And you are?” she asked, trying to mask her surprise.
“Lucas,” he replied, walking closer. “I saw you at the pub last night. You’re here about the disappearances, right?”
Emma nodded. “Yes. Do you know anything that could help?”
Lucas hesitated, then sighed. “My sister, Sarah, disappeared on this bridge three years ago. I’ve been looking for answers ever since.”
Emma’s heart ached at the pain in his voice. “I’m so sorry, Lucas. What have you found?”
“Not much,” he admitted. “But I know there’s something more to this bridge than just bad luck. I’ve seen things, shadows moving where they shouldn’t, strange symbols etched into the metal. I think it’s connected to an old cult that used to operate around here.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “A cult? That’s new. Do you have any proof?”
Lucas nodded. “I’ve found some old documents and symbols that match descriptions of a pagan cult that was supposedly disbanded decades ago. They practiced dark rituals, human sacrifices. I think they’re still around, hiding in plain sight.”
Emma felt a surge of excitement mixed with dread. This was bigger than she had imagined. “Can you show me these documents?”
Lucas glanced around nervously. “Not here. It’s not safe. Meet me tonight at the old library on the outskirts of town. I’ll show you everything I’ve found.”
Emma agreed, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. As she watched Lucas walk away, she knew she was diving headfirst into a deep, dark mystery. But she couldn’t turn back now. The truth, no matter how terrifying, had to be uncovered.
---
That evening, Emma drove to the old library, a grand but decaying building that stood as a relic of the past. She found Lucas waiting for her, a stack of old books and papers spread out on a dusty table.
“Here,” he said, handing her a worn journal. “This belonged to one of the cult members. It details their rituals and beliefs. They used the bridge for their sacrifices, believing it was a gateway to another world.”
Emma flipped through the pages, her heart pounding. The journal was filled with cryptic symbols and chilling descriptions of rituals conducted on the bridge. It confirmed Lucas’s suspicions and hinted at even darker secrets.
“We need to find out if they’re still active,” Emma said, her voice resolute. “And we need to stop them.”
Lucas nodded. “I’m with you. Whatever it takes.”
As they left the library, Emma felt a sense of foreboding mixed with determination. The Devil's Crossing had claimed too many lives, and it was time for the truth to be revealed. With Lucas by her side, she knew she had a fighting chance. But as the shadows of the night closed in around them, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched.