Readers vote on where this story goes next! Welcome to Briarwich. A sleepy coastal town with a dark history. You are Morgan, a college student on a boating trip with your four best friends. When you and your friends become stranded in Briarwich, you...
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You watch Camilla eye you through thick dark lashes as she pours cup after cup of steaming black coffee. Even in the sunlight - bright despite being filtered through a thin layer of post-storm clouds - her pupils appear black rather than brown or some other natural human colour. The uneven way the light refracts off their depths reminds you of the ethereal tendrils of ink in your nearly ruined sketchbook.
"Earth to Morgan. Come in, Morgan," Val waves a hand in front of you, snapping you out of your spiraling train of thought.
"Huh?" you mumble dumbly.
"Wow, you really need to drink that coffee," Simon chuckles as he slides one of the freshly poured cups to your corner of the table.
"Where do you think we should go today?" Val asks, likely not for the first time. "Downtown? Or the Orchard?"
You consider the decision for a moment as you take a sip of fresh coffee. The bitter brew washes over your sleepy taste buds and reminds you that you've forgotten to add cream or sugar to the drink. If you were half asleep before, you are awake now.
"Let's check out the orchard," you say.
After passing through downtown once, and being thoroughly creeped out, you hope that a change of scenery will help shake the nagging sense that you should be trying to run for the hills.
Natalie leans back in her chair, a blissful smile on her face, "Oh man, I can't remember the last time I tasted a homemade apple pie. This is going to be awesome."
*
The group makes arrangements to leave not long after breakfast is concluded. While the others gather their things, you take advantage of the downtime to block out a quick sketch of your view from your balcony.
You are so focused on your drawing and perfecting the crescent shaped curve of the coast line that you don't hear Camilla open your bedroom door.
"Your friends are heading downstairs," Camilla's voice pulls you back down to earth.
"Oh," you jump in surprise, "thank you."
She is standing not more than two feet behind you, a wicker laundry basket balanced on one hip already piled high with clothes she has collected from the other room to wash. Her onyx eyes are focused on yours; expression thoughtful.
"What?" you ask, feeling self conscious under her scrutinizing gaze.
Camilla reaches into the pocket of her apron and pulls out a roll of paper, "I forgot to give you something at dinner. If you are going to be exploring the area, you are going to want a map. Most of the roads around here cut through the woods, so it is easy for an outsider to get turned around."
You accept the map from Camilla with a grateful smile. The paper is heavier than you expect and soft to the touch. You suspect that the map is printed on vellum, which is terribly old fashioned, but then again, so is everything else in Briarwich.
