রহমান শেলী

Chapter 1: The Silence of Cedar Creek

There is a specific kind of quiet that lives only in places forgotten by time. In Cedar Creek, the fog didn't just roll in; it settled into the bones of the old wooden houses, muting whispers, softening footfalls, and burying secrets deep beneath the damp forest moss.

When I cut the engine of my Volvo at the foot of the old timber bridge, the sudden silence was almost deafening...