Jordan found the journal beneath the floorboard of their father’s study, its leather cover cracked like dried mud. The air smelled of mildew and old paper, the kind that clung to your fingers. They didn’t remember the study having a loose board. But there it was, a jagged gap in the oak, revealing a hollow space where something had been hidden. The journal’s pages were yellowed, the ink faded but legible. A single line repeated in the margins: *They’re waiting for you.*
The town of Marrow’s End was built on secrets. Jordan had always known that, even if they’d never voiced it. The cliffs that loomed over the harbor weren’t just rock—they were bones, stacked high and weathered by time. The fishermen’s nets dragged up things that didn’t belong in the sea: glass bottles with no labels, rusted keys, fragments of metal that hummed when touched. Jordan’s father had been one of the few who’d tried to ask questions. He’d vanished two years ago, leaving only his boots by the dock and a note scrawled in the margins of a tide chart: *The water remembers.*
Sam found them hunched over the journal at the diner, their fingers smudged with ink. “You’re not still digging through his stuff, are you?” Sam’s voice was low, like they were afraid the walls might listen. They slid into the booth across from Jordan, their boots tapping a rhythm against the floor. “You think he’s out there somewhere?”
Jordan didn’t answer. They traced the edge of the journal with a thumb, feeling the raised grooves of the embossed lettering. The diner’s grease scent was thick, mingling with the tang of salt from the harbor visible through the window. Outside, gulls screamed, their cries sharp as broken glass.
“You know what they say about people who stay too long in Marrow’s End,” Sam said, leaning forward. “They become part of the tide.”
Jordan didn’t look up. They’d heard the stories—how the town’s founder had made a deal with something beneath the waves, how every generation had to give up a soul to keep the sea at bay. But their father hadn’t been a fool. He’d been a scientist, a man who’d trusted data over superstition. And yet, he was gone.
That night, Jordan returned to the study, the journal clutched to their chest. The house creaked like a living thing, floorboards groaning as they moved. They lit a candle, its flame flickering in the draft. The journal’s pages turned easily, revealing diagrams of the town’s coastline, notes in a cipher that looked like a mix of math and poetry. Then, a sketch: a figure standing at the edge of the cliffs, arms outstretched, surrounded by symbols that pulsed with meaning Jordan couldn’t yet grasp.
A sound outside. A footstep. Jordan froze. The candle’s glow cast long shadows across the walls, twisting into shapes that didn’t belong. They heard the door creak open, then a voice—low, deliberate. “You shouldn’t be here.”
Jordan turned, heart hammering. The figure in the doorway was tall, their face obscured by the dim light. But the voice was familiar. It belonged to Lila, the girl who’d moved to town last summer, who never stayed in one place for long. She stepped inside, her boots silent on the floor. “Your father left this for you,” she said, reaching for the journal. “But you don’t understand what it means.”
“What does it mean?” Jordan asked, their voice steady despite the fear curling in their gut.
Lila hesitated. “It means the tide is coming. And if you don’t stop it, it’ll take everything.”
The next morning, Jordan met Lila at the cliffs. The wind was sharp, cutting through their jacket as they stood at the edge of the world. Below, the sea churned, its surface broken by waves that crashed against the rocks with a sound like thunder. Lila handed them a key, its metal cold and heavy in their palm. “This opens the door,” she said. “But you have to go alone.”
“Why me?” Jordan asked.
“Because your father didn’t want to leave you. He wanted you to find the truth.”
The key fit perfectly into the rusted lock of the cave entrance, its hinges groaning as it swung open. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of brine and decay. Jordan’s flashlight beam caught on walls etched with symbols, lines of text that shimmered like they were alive. At the center of the chamber stood a pedestal, and on it, a mirror. But when Jordan looked into it, they didn’t see their reflection. They saw a version of themselves standing in a different time, their eyes hollow, their mouth open in a silent scream.
A voice echoed through the cave. “You’ve come at last.”
Jordan turned. A figure emerged from the shadows, their face obscured by a veil of water. “Who are you?” they demanded.
The figure tilted their head. “I am the tide. I am the hunger. Your father tried to bargain with me. He failed.”
“What do you want?” Jordan asked, their voice trembling.
“A new offering,” the figure said. “But you don’t have to be the one.”
Jordan’s mind raced. The journal, the key, Lila’s warning—it all pointed to one thing. The town’s secret wasn’t just a myth. It was real, and it was waiting. They thought of their father, of the way he’d left without a word. Of the stories they’d heard as a child, of the people who’d disappeared without a trace.
“I won’t give you anything,” Jordan said, stepping forward. “You take what you want. But I’ll fight back.”
The figure laughed, a sound like waves crashing against stone. “Then you’ll die like the others.”
But Jordan had already made their choice. They reached into their pocket, pulling out the journal. With a single, decisive motion, they flung it into the air. The pages scattered, fluttering like drowned birds. The figure lunged, but Jordan was faster. They grabbed the mirror and hurled it against the wall. It shattered, releasing a sound that was neither crash nor scream, but something in between.
The cave shook. The walls groaned. Jordan stumbled back as the figure dissolved into mist, their form unraveling like smoke in the wind. The tide had been denied.
When Jordan emerged from the cave, the sun was setting, painting the sky in hues of orange and red. Lila was waiting, her expression unreadable. “It’s over,” Jordan said, though the words felt empty.
“Not quite,” Lila replied. “The tide doesn’t forget. But maybe… it’ll be patient.”
Jordan looked out over the sea, the waves rolling in with a rhythm that felt almost… familiar. They didn’t know what came next. But for the first time in a long while, they felt like they were standing on solid ground.
The end.
