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WD - Chapter 192: Fruitless research
🕑 Added 2025-01-10 18:39:59 +0000 UTC[POV Violet Johnson]
My name is Violet Johnson. I was born in Shadyside, a small and forgotten town, with two ordinary parents and a brother one year younger than me.
Last summer, I started my own project. It wasn’t for school or because someone else asked me to; it was my decision. Maybe it was the excess of free time, or perhaps the accumulation of doubts I had been ignoring for years.
I’ve lived here for 16 years and always thought Shadyside was just a boring place. After all, it’s a town with fewer than four thousand inhabitants, quiet streets, normals businesses, and an almost desolate atmosphere. “It’s normal,” I used to tell myself. “What can you expect from such a small place?”
But something seemed strange, which led me to begin this peculiar investigation. Every now and then, someone would leave Shadyside—a family, a single person, or an elderly couple.
No goodbyes, no explanations. One day they were here, and the next, their houses were empty, their cars gone. It seemed as though they decided to leave town overnight.
At first, I didn’t think much of it. “People leave to find something better,” I thought.
But the more I thought about it, the stranger it seemed. Why weren’t there any rumors or even farewells in the neighborhood? The only thing left after their departure was empty houses.
Although not for long. Someone was always taking care of those properties—a local real estate company, Shadyside Realty, which would remodel the houses and quickly put them up for sale or rent.
Last summer (just a few months ago), a family living about two blocks from my house “abandoned” the town. It was one of those sudden disappearances. One morning, their car was no longer in the driveway.
This event, combined with the thoughts piling up in my head day after day, pushed me to take action.
I decided to go out and investigate on my own, even though deep down, part of me didn’t take what I was doing very seriously. I felt like one of those characters in movies who uncover a big conspiracy, but how likely was it that something like that was happening here?
After all, no one else seemed alarmed. If there was truly a crime behind all this, how could it go unnoticed? How was it possible that everyone accepted these disappearances without questioning them?
Because of this, I went looking for answers at Shadyside Realty, the real estate company handling the empty houses. There, I was greeted by Mrs. Whitmore, a middle-aged woman with perfectly styled hair and a measured smile.
I decided to write down the conversation exactly as it happened so I wouldn’t miss any detail.
[Date: July 15th, 4:00 PM
Location: Shadyside Realty Office
Violet: Hi, I wanted to ask about the Millers' house. I saw they moved out recently, and… well, it caught my attention how quickly it all happened.
Mrs. Whitmore: Oh, of course. The Millers sold the house a few weeks ago. They decided to move to a bigger city. Why do you ask?
Violet: Because it was very sudden. I never saw a “for sale” sign on their house. Who bought it?
Mrs. Whitmore: The real estate agency acquired it as an investment. That’s something we do with promising properties. We’ve already remodeled it, and a family will be moving in soon to rent it.
Violet: I see… but what intrigues me the most is that I don’t recall them saying goodbye to anyone. I thought they would’ve at least said goodbye to my family or something, considering they lived just two blocks away.
Mrs. Whitmore: Well, the Millers were closer to certain neighbors in particular. From what I know, they hosted a farewell dinner with their closest friends before leaving.
Violet: Do you know exactly where they went?
Mrs. Whitmore: I can’t answer that—client confidentiality, you know.
Violet: Thanks for your time.
The conversation ended there, but something about Mrs. Whitmore’s response left me with more questions than answers. The farewell dinner story sounded convincing, but at the same time, why hadn’t anyone on my street mentioned it? I decided to talk to some neighbors to confirm that part of the story.
The Millers’ closest neighbors were the Carpentiers, an elderly couple who don’t seem very friendly. Still, I gathered my courage and went to their house to talk to one of them. It was Mr. Carpentier who answered the door.
[Date: July 16th, 10:30 AM
Location: Mr. Carpentier’s House (neighbor of the Millers)
Violet: Hi, Mr. Carpentier. Sorry to bother you, but I wanted to ask you something.
Mr. Carpentier: (with a huff) What?
Violet: (trying to ignore his tone) I wanted to know if you know anything about the Millers. I noticed they moved out recently, and, well, I was struck by how sudden it was.
Mr. Carpentier: (crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe) And what’s the surprise? People move all the time. It’s normal, especially for a young couple like them. This town is a boring hole. If I were their age, I would’ve run off too.
Violet: (forcing a smile) Sure, I get it. It’s just that I don’t remember them saying goodbye to anyone. I thought they would’ve at least mentioned it to you, their next-door neighbors.
Mr. Carpentier: Yeah, they did. They invited my wife to a farewell dinner. I didn’t go—I had to watch the game.
Violet: I see… Can I speak with your wife?
I had a conversation with Mrs. Carpentier, but it didn’t add much. She only confirmed the farewell dinner and that the Millers did say goodbye to their close neighbors. There were no relevant details.
Maybe I was seeing ghosts where there were none. Maybe this was just what it seemed—a family deciding to leave this gray town behind to look for something better.
Even so, I kept investigating. Maybe I had too much time to think.
My girlfriend—well, my ex-girlfriend now—broke up with me just before summer break started. She’s from Sunnyvale, and her mom was never okay with her dating someone from Shadyside. On top of that, she was opposed to a same-sex relationship.
With a broken heart and lots of free time, I poured myself into this investigation, which yielded no success all summer.
I looked into the people who had left Shadyside recently, walked through every street in town over the summer, but it all seemed pretty straightforward.
The empty houses either had “For Sale” signs or were rented out to new families—though very few, only because of the low rent prices.
The houses that were left empty always met the same fate: some were rented out to new families, albeit rarely, due to the affordable rent; others were for sale, with faded signs that seemed eternal in their windows.
The only unusual thing—if it could even be called unusual—was that every family that left did so in the same way: a farewell dinner with just their next-door neighbors and nothing more. Then their house was sold or rented out by Shadyside Realty. No drama, nothing strange. What else would you expect when a family moves away?
By mid-August, one of the houses was occupied by a newlywed couple with two kids, around ten years old. I saw them during one of my walks around town.
I spoke with them to welcome them, and the only information I got was that the rent was very cheap, and the place didn’t seem so bad—a quiet town where, according to them, their kids could grow up safely without the dangers of the big city.
Summer ended, and I started my school year at Shadyside’s only high school. My investigation led nowhere.
All I had gathered were coincidences that might not mean anything. I felt exhausted, frustrated, and a little foolish for spending my entire summer on something so unproductive.
As for the Millers’ house, it remained unoccupied all summer. The realtor had said it was rented out, but the new tenants only arrived a few days ago, as far as I’ve heard.
I don’t know who they are, nor have I seen them, since I gave up my habit of wandering around town. They’re probably just another normal family.
“Violet, breakfast’s ready!”
