Facade

By JT WULF

In the peaceful town of Foley, Indiana, secrets ruled over everyone's lives like a silent tyrant. But when three teenagers decided to uncover those hidden mysteries, they embarked on a perilous journey into the unknown. Sheryl Johnson, 16, Mark Davis, 16, and Calvin Lloyd, 15, were consumed by curiosity. With reckless determination shimmering in their eyes, they set out to unravel the enigmatic tales that echoed through the streets.

 

As days turned into weeks and then months, anxiety gripped the town as the three teens vanished without a trace. Foley, Indiana, was thrown into chaos as major media outlets flooded the community with rumors and speculation about what happened to them. The once-peaceful town became suspended between eerie silence and raw anxiety, whispering of clandestine cults lurking within darkness's embrace or supernatural forces manipulating reality itself to envelop these naïve youths forevermore into its icy grip.

Foley, Indiana, was never the same after the mysterious disappearance of these three teens. Warnings were shouted through the streets for children to stay close and inside, while frantic calls to the local authorities poured in from concerned citizens who claimed to have seen fleeting glimpses of the missing teens. The media seemed lost as there were no pictures provided of the trio, and they had no known schools or families in town. The truth was that these three ghost-like figures left no traceable evidence that they ever existed, as did the town or this story.

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: True American Publishing
• Release date: Mar 4, 2024
• ISBN: 9798224560370

JT WULF

JT WULF is a best selling author in the genres of horror and suspense thriller. His books include: The Transition Hole, Dead, The Inn, The Cellar Door, The RIP Club, A Town Called Thereafter, Karma: The Final Payment 

Book preview

INTRODUCTION

In the peaceful town of Foley, Indiana, secrets ruled over everyone's lives like a silent tyrant. But when three teenagers decided to uncover those hidden mysteries, they embarked on a perilous journey into the unknown. Sheryl Johnson, 16, Mark Davis, 16, and Calvin Lloyd, 15, were consumed by curiosity. With reckless determination shimmering in their eyes, they set out to unravel the enigmatic tales that echoed through the streets.

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As days turned into weeks and then months, anxiety gripped the town as the three teens vanished without a trace. Foley, Indiana, was thrown into chaos as major media outlets flooded the community with rumors and speculation about what happened to them. The once-peaceful town became suspended between eerie silence and raw anxiety, whispering of clandestine cults lurking within darkness's embrace or supernatural forces manipulating reality itself to envelop these naïve youths forevermore into its icy grip.

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Despite countless searches by law enforcement officials and desperate loved ones combing every inch of land surrounding the town, nothing substantial emerged. Fear bled from the hearts of all who dared to remember the trio's last known whereabouts. A thick fog of dread hung over the town, casting a pall of unease that refused to dissipate.

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Foley, Indiana, was never the same after the mysterious disappearance of these three teens. Warnings were shouted through the streets for children to stay close and inside, while frantic calls to the local authorities poured in from concerned citizens who claimed to have seen fleeting glimpses of the missing teens. The media seemed lost as there were no pictures provided of the trio, and they had no known schools or families in town. The truth was that these three ghost-like figures left no traceable evidence that they ever existed, as did the town or this story.

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But amidst all this chaos and confusion, one person stood out - a young girl named Lily. She was different from everyone else in Foley, Indiana - she had always felt like an outsider, never quite belonging to the town's close-knit community. But when she stumbled upon a hidden journal in her attic that belonged to one of the missing teens, she knew that she had to solve the mystery.

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Lily's journey to solve the mystery takes her through abandoned warehouses and forgotten graveyards, where she comes face-to-face with the town's darkest secrets. As she unravels the truth behind the disappearance of the three teens, she realizes that the town's unspoken truths are not just secrets but something more sinister.

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In this supernatural mystery, Lily's quest for answers leads her down a dangerous path, and she discovers that sometimes, it's better not to know the truth. The story culminates in a thrilling climax where Lily must confront the very forces that have been manipulating reality itself. In the end, she emerges victorious, but at what cost?

CHAPTER 1

Lily Thompson leaned against the cool, stone facade of the Foley Public Library. Her gaze flitted across the street, trailing after the townspeople as they moved through the sunny square like pieces on a chessboard. The hum of conversation buzzed in the air, but the usual lightness had vanished, replaced by an undercurrent of tension that made her skin prickle.

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Sheryl was always poking her nose where it didn't belong, she caught a woman saying to her companion, her voice low and tinged with unease. It's no wonder...

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Can't be natural, another man muttered, his eyes darting around as if he expected the cobblestones to speak. Three vanishing into thin air? Mark's a sturdy lad; no one could just snatch him up without a trace.

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Calvin, too, chimed in a third, his face drawn tight. The boy barely spoke two words to anyone, and now, silence. It's eerie, unnatural silence.

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Lily's heart skipped a beat, and she tucked a loose strand of brown hair behind her ear. Supernatural occurrences? The notion sent a shiver down her spine, but the mystery beckoned to her like a siren's call. She needed answers, not just rumors whispered between hushed lips. Lily straightened up, determination setting her jaw firm as she stepped away from the library's shadow and into the thrum of Foley's troubled heart.

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Did you hear about the lights? an older woman asked, clutching her shopping basket close. Lights hovering over the Lloyd's barn the night Calvin didn't come home.

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Old tales stirring up, replied her friend, a skeptical frown creasing his brow. But I never thought I'd say it... maybe there's truth to the legends this time.

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Legends. Lights. Disappearances. The threads of the unknown wove a chilling tapestry, and Lily knew she wouldn't—couldn't—leave them dangling. Not when three of her own were missing. Not when fear gripped Foley in a silent scream. She stepped forward, drawn into the web of whispers, ready to pull at the strings and unravel the truth.

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Lily's resolve quickened her steps as she made her way to the Foley Gazette, the town's modest newspaper office. The bell above the door announced her arrival, a jingle muffled by the scent of ink and paper that saturated the air.

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Can I help you? The voice belonged to a young man behind the cluttered front desk, his hair an untamed mess, glasses perched precariously on his nose.

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Hi, I'm Lily Thompson, she said, extending a hand he didn't immediately take, his attention fixed on her with cautious interest. I'm looking for information on the recent disappearances.

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Eric Walker, he finally replied, taking her hand in a firm shake. His gaze was analytic, a mind already sifting through the potential reasons for her visit. You're the Thompson girl, right? Why the sudden interest in our town's sad chapter?

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Because no one else seems willing to open the book, Lily countered. Her hazel eyes held a fire that flickered with the thought of Sheryl, Mark, and Calvin – friends now whispers on the wind. People are talking about... unnatural things. I want facts, not ghost stories.

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A half-smirk twitched Eric's lips – skepticism mixed with intrigue. Supernatural, huh? That's quite the leap from missing persons.

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Maybe, Lily admitted, unfazed. But there are too many strange things happening to just ignore them.

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Alright, Eric conceded, pushing aside a stack of papers to lean forward, elbows resting on the desk. I'll bite. What's your plan?

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First, I need to see what you've got. Articles, interviews, anything that might have been overlooked. Her voice carried an urgency that suggested this was more than just a passing curiosity.

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Overlooked by the entire Gazette staff? Eric raised an eyebrow but stood up, gesturing toward the back room filled with filing cabinets and haphazardly stacked newspapers. We're thorough, but come on, let's see what you can dig up.

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Thanks, Lily said, following him through the maze of desks and scattered journalism detritus. She sensed a shift in Eric's demeanor; the story had caught him, and like her, he couldn't resist its pull.

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Here we are, Eric said, stopping at a cabinet labeled 'Unsolved Cases.' He pulled out a drawer and began to sift through folders. You really think there's something everyone else has missed?

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Maybe, Lily repeated, her fingers grazing over the cold metal tabs on the folders. Or maybe they weren't looking for the right thing.

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Which is?

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Connections, she whispered, almost to herself. Patterns. Something that tells us this isn't just random.

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Okay, detective, Eric chuckled, but his eyes were serious as they met hers. Let's find your patterns.

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Together, amidst the rustling of old reports and the scratch of their notes, Foley's eerie silence seemed worlds away. But as each file laid bare before them yielded more questions than answers, it became clear: they were only just peeling back the dark edges of a much larger mystery.

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The heavy door of the Foley Police Station swung open with an authoritative creak, and Lily stepped inside, Eric close behind her. The air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and copier ink. A uniformed officer looked up from his desk, his expression unreadable.

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Can I help you? he asked in a flat tone that suggested he had already decided he could not.

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Hi, yes, Lily began, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice. We were hoping to get some information on the status of the Sheryl Johnson case—and Mark Davis and Calvin Lloyd.

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Are you family? The officer's eyes narrowed slightly behind his glasses.

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No, but—

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Then there's nothing I can tell you. Ongoing investigation. He returned to his paperwork with a finality that left no room for argument.

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Eric leaned against the counter, his reporter's instinct kicking in. Surely there must be something you can share? The community is really concerned about these kids.

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Look, we're doing all we can, the officer replied, not looking up. But we don't discuss ongoing investigations with the public. Especially not with journalists.

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Isn't it in the public interest to know what's happening? Lily pressed, her frustration mounting.

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Anything that's in the public interest gets released through official statements. That's how it works. The officer's words were clipped and dismissive.

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Right. But it seems like nothing's been released for weeks now, Eric countered, adjusting his glasses. People are starting to talk, make up their own theories. Isn't it better to have facts?

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Thank you for your concern, the officer said, a touch of sarcasm seeping into his voice. If we need assistance from amateur detectives or the press, we'll let you know.

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As they walked out of the police station, the door closing heavily behind them, Lily felt a simmering anger at the dismissiveness they'd encountered.

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Can you believe that? She shook her head, more to herself than to Eric. It's like they want us to forget those kids ever existed.

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Or they're just as in the dark as we are, Eric suggested, although his furrowed brow showed he shared her indignation.

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Either way, it's not right. People should be looking for answers, not turning away from the questions. Lily's hazel eyes darkened with resolve. We can't let this go, Eric. There's something they're not telling us, and I'm going to find out what it is.

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Count me in, Eric said, a determined glint in his eye. I didn't sign up for journalism to write fluff pieces about garden parties.

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Lily gave a small, wry smile, appreciating his support. Together, their footsteps echoed down the empty corridor, the sound a stark reminder of the silence that met their questions. With each step, Lily's determination deepened; she would uncover the truth, no matter how tightly the town held its secrets.

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Lily's fingers brushed over the spines of aged newspapers bound in thick leather volumes, the musty scent of the library archives tickling her nose. The dim light flickered overhead as she and Eric navigated through the labyrinth of shelves that held Foley's long-forgotten stories.

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Check this out, Eric said, his voice muffled by a cloud of dust as he hefted a particularly worn ledger onto the table. It landed with a thud, sending a small plume into the air.

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Lily leaned in, her hazel eyes scanning the brittle pages until they fell upon a headline that sent a shiver down her spine: 'Unexplained Phenomena Plague Foley.' The date was from decades ago, almost lost to time itself.

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Listen to this, Lily read aloud, her voice barely above a whisper,  'Residents report strange occurrences, the disappearance of local livestock, and unidentifiable sounds piercing the night.' She looked up at Eric, her eyes wide with excitement. This is it. This has to be connected to what's happening now.

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Could be a coincidence, Eric murmured, but even he couldn't hide the intrigue that crept into his tone.

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Coincidences don't explain why three teenagers vanished into thin air. Lily tapped the article emphatically. We need to dig deeper.

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Where do you suggest we start? Eric asked, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

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Let's hit the historical society, Lily proposed, her mind racing with possibilities. If there's any truth to these old stories, someone there might know something that can help us.

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Okay, Eric conceded with an approving nod. But we have to tread carefully—

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Of course, Lily interjected, already gathering her things. But Eric, think about it. These articles could be the key. If there's a pattern, a history of weirdness in Foley, then maybe—just maybe—we can figure out what happened to Sheryl, Mark, and Calvin.

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Lead the way, detective, Eric said, a smile tugging at his lips despite the gravity of their task.

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First stop, history, and mystery, Lily quipped back, her determination surging anew. Together, they left the dusty confines of the archives, the trail of an old mystery beckoning them forward.

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The bell above the door chimed as Lily and Eric stepped into the historical society, a place frozen in time with its antique furniture and walls lined with sepia-toned photographs. The air was thick with the musty scent of old books and even older secrets.

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Can I help you? The voice came from behind a towering stack of leather-bound records. Mrs. Jenkins emerged, her white hair pulled back in a tight bun, spectacles perched precariously on her nose.

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Mrs. Jenkins, Lily began, her voice steady despite the flutter in her chest. We're looking into some... odd occurrences that have been happening around town.

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Odd occurrences? Mrs. Jenkins echoed, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

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Disappearances, Eric clarified. Three teens have gone missing, and we found articles about similar events from decades ago. We were hoping you might have more information.

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Mrs. Jenkins pursed her lips, a wariness creeping into her eyes. Foley's history is long, and not all of it is pleasant to recount.

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Please, Lily implored, her gaze imploring. We think there might be a connection.

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The elderly curator studied them for a moment longer before sighing. Follow me. She led them past exhibits depicting Foley's founding, through a narrow corridor lined with framed newspaper clippings, and into a small back room where the air felt even heavier.

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Sit down, she said, gesturing to a pair of wooden chairs. With hands that trembled ever so slightly, she withdrew a large, dusty tome from a shelf. There have always been whispers, she began, flipping through the pages until she found what she was looking for. Legends of the supernatural kind. Stories passed down through generations.

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Like what? Eric asked, leaning forward.

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Disappearances like the ones you're researching, she replied. Every few decades, they happen. People, usually young ones, are taken without a trace. And always when there's a... She trailed off, her voice dropping to a whisper. A convergence.

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Convergence? Lily repeated, the word tasting strange on her tongue.

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Of energies, dear, Mrs. Jenkins explained, her eyes flicking to the window as if expecting to see something lurking beyond. They say Foley was built on a place of power. When the balance shifts, things happen. Unexplainable things.

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Lily's heart raced as she processed the words. This wasn't just local folklore; it was a pattern. A cycle of darkness that had touched Foley before and was doing so again. And you think this is happening now?

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Mrs. Jenkins nodded solemnly. I do.

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Then we have to stop it, Lily stated, her resolve hardening like steel. We need to find out how.

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Many have tried, Mrs. Jenkins warned, her gaze intense. None have succeeded.

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But we have to try, Lily countered, her determination unwavering. We owe it to Sheryl, Mark, and Calvin.

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Mrs. Jenkins regarded her with a mixture of admiration and pity. You have the fire of those who came before you, she observed. Very well. I'll tell you what I know, but be cautious, Lily Thompson. In seeking the truth, you may find more than you bargained for.

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Thank you, Lily said, and she meant it. With every fiber of her being, she was committed to unraveling the threads of Foley's hidden tapestry, no matter how chilling the patterns revealed.

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The door of the historical society closed behind them with a soft click, and Lily felt the weight of Mrs. Jenkins's revelations settle upon her shoulders as she and Eric stepped out into the fading sunlight. They walked in silence, their footsteps echoing on the cobblestone path that led away from the repository of Foley's mysteries.

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Can you believe it? Lily finally broke the silence, shaking her head in disbelief. A cycle of darkness... It sounds like something out of a gothic novel.

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Eric pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, an absent gesture he made when deep in thought. But it fits, doesn't it? The pattern is there – every few decades, strange things happen, people disappear, and then... nothing.

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Until now, Lily added, her voice firming with resolve. We can't just wait for the 'nothing' part. We need to act.

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Agreed. Eric's eyes met hers, reflecting a fire that matched her own. So, what's our next move?

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Lily stopped walking, her gaze distant as she sifted through everything they had learned. She remembered the whispers, the sideways glances whenever Madeline Hayes walked by, how quickly conversations would hush at the mention of her name. Madeline Hayes, she said, the name tasting like a key on her tongue.

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Madeline Hayes? Eric echoed, a hint of skepticism threading his tone. You mean the town recluse who allegedly talks to spirits?

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She knows more than she lets on, Lily insisted. Mrs. Jenkins hinted at it, and the townsfolk nearly trip over their words to avoid talking about her. If there's anyone in Foley who can help us understand what's going on, it's her.

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Okay, let's say we do this, Eric said, his expression contemplative. How do you propose we get Madeline Hayes to talk to us?

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By being honest, Lily replied, her hazel eyes meeting his squarely. We tell her about the disappearances, our fears, and our theory. We ask for her help. People open up if you show them you're sincere.

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Alright, Eric conceded, nodding slowly. It's worth a shot. But be careful, Lily. People like Madeline Hayes are unpredictable. We don't know what we might be walking into.

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I know, Lily said, a steely edge to her voice. But we have no choice. For Sheryl, Mark, and Calvin... for all of us. Her heart pounded with a mix of dread and anticipation. Reaching out to Madeline Hayes might be their best chance at finding answers, but it also felt like stepping closer to the unknown.

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Then it's settled, Eric said, offering her a tentative smile. We'll reach out to Madeline Hayes first thing tomorrow.

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Tomorrow, Lily agreed, her determination casting long shadows as the day yielded to night around them. We'll face whatever comes.

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The gravel crunched under Lily's boots, a staccato accompaniment to the thrumming of her heart as she approached the weathered wooden gate. She paused, her breath visible in the crisp air, and glanced back to where Eric stood by his car, watching with a furrowed brow.

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Are you sure you don't want me to come with? he called out, concern edging his voice.

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Lily shook her head, her long brown hair waving in the gentle breeze. Madeline might talk more freely if it's just me, she replied, squaring her shoulders. Don't worry, I'll be fine.

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He nodded, though