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Literature

The Mystery of Carver's Hollow

Carver’s Hollow was the kind of small town you could drive through without ever noticing. Tucked away in the hills, surrounded by dense woods, its isolation kept it off most maps. Only the locals knew about the strange things that sometimes happened there. And they didn’t talk about it. No one ever did. Ben Hastings leaned on the counter of the Hollow Diner, lazily stirring his coffee. It was late October, and the days were growing shorter. He liked the evening shifts, watching the town wind down as darkness crept over the horizon. Carver’s Hollow wasn’t much—population a little over 1,000—but it had been home his whole life. “See the sky tonight?” Ruthie Weller, the town’s librarian, asked from her seat at the counter. Her voice was casual, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of concern. Ben nodded. He’d noticed it earlier, too. The clouds, streaked with an eerie green tint, almost shimmering. It made him feel... uneasy. “It’s just the weather,” he said, though even as he spoke the