Concealed Yarns

Since the night before, the storm outside hadn't slackened. The endless torrent erased the distinction between the black sky and the ground below, forming an unending body of water that appeared to drown everything in its way. Sitting on her bed, Joan turned over the phone in her hands and pondered whether to lift it up and dial him. Alex. Though it had been days since they last spoke, the quiet between them felt oppressive, like the torrential downpours striking on the windows.

Still burdening her thoughts were Albert's enigmatic words and her father's disclosures. She hoped against hope that all could still work out, but how could she really? The truth had been hidden away for so long; it now all came down at once. Everything she knew was being turned upside down, and she had no means to prevent it.

The phone buzzed in her hand; it snapped her thoughts. Seeing the name on the monitor caused Joan's heart to skip a beat. It was Alex who was doing it.

Grabbing a deep breath, she replied to the call, her voice shaky. "Alex?"

His voice came through the line, raw and strained, after a little lull. "Joan... we have to discuss."

She closed her eyes, a tight knot developing in her stomach. "I See. I have been considering it as well."

Their silence felt weighty, as if neither of them had any idea what to follow. Joan needed to reach out and assure him all things were going to be okay, but the weight of their circumstances kept her stuck. Everything is so off... wrong.

Alex answered quietly, "I know." I have also been considering it. And I believe we need to discover exactly what is actually happening. This goes beyond our personal situation.

Joan's breath seized. "what are you saying?"

Hesitating, Alex spoke with a tight voice. "I have been talking with someone. Someone else who may have more information on our families—on everything. And what I've found…" He stopped, as if contemplating the next words. "It's not just our parents concealing things, Joan. There is something much more significant at work here. Joan's heart raced; what exactly is meant by something dangerous? Alex, this does not compute. I figured it was all about us, our families."

"It's greater than that," he said with great concern. "And I believe it has been kept from us for a long period. Though I would like to say less over the phone, I believe you should come see me. Joan shuddered and asked, "Where?" "Where?"

The docks for the aged warehouse. Middle of night. Nobody can know."

The line cut off before she could answer. Joan turned the phone off and gazed out upon the dizzying scenery surrounding her. What on earth might Alex have revealed? Was this related to her father's secret? Or was there something else much darker hiding beneath the surface? 

This was something she could not overlook. She had to know whatever Alex had discovered, whatever truth he was about to share. She had to confront whatever was arriving.

Hours later

Joan was standing in front of the old warehouse; the rain was pouring hard still made the streets glisten like polished black mirrors. Her footsteps resounded as she marched toward the front; the frigid night air stung at her skin. Not sure what she was hoping for—perhaps Alex would be waiting for her, maybe an explanation, perhaps even an apology for everything gone wrong.

She was faced with silence, however, at the door. No sign of Alex towards. Nothing in indication of somebody. Only the regular beat of the rain falling from the sky and the distant rumble of thunder.

"Alex?" Joan yelled; her voice was hardly heard above the storm. The door swung open and she walked inside. The room's air was saturated with the slight scent of mildew and dust particles. Except for a few flickering lights above, the warehouse was gloomy.

"Alex?" she called once more, her voice shaking with doubt.

Joan spun about as a shadow stirred near her eyes corner, her heart throbbing into her throat. But she turned to find nobody. The only thing in the empty warehouse was the quiet that surrounded her on every side.

Her senses on high alert, she stepped cautiously forwards. Something felt off. Her gut settled with dread and the hairs on the back of her neck raised.

Out of nowhere, the door behind her slams closed, the lock clicks in place. Panic beginning in her chest, Joan spun around. Her mind racing, her heart pounding in her ears as she retreated from the door.

"Alex?!" she screamed, her voice ringing down the halls.

There was no reply; only the sound of her breath coming in rough gulps and far-off thunder. Swinging around the gloomy warehouse, Joan's eyes searched for any sign of life.

And then she saw it: a shape in the shadows beyond the limits of the faint glow. Slowly the figure approached, exposing a face that turned Joan's blood to ice.

Albert was the one.

Joan murmured, her voice wavering with surprise, "Albert?" What are you doing here?"

grief was instant. He only starred there, his eyes rigid, his face inscrutable. The quiet grew long and weighty.

Once more, Joan asked, her voice growing in intensity, "Why are you here, Albert?" "Where is Alex? What is happening?"

Albert's mouth formed a small, hardly perceleable grin. "Joan, you've been asking the wrong questions," he said quietly. "This has nothing to do with Alex. It's about you."

Joan's heart raced. What are you insinuating? What do you know?

With the dim light showing something in his hand, Albert moved forward. a little silver locket. The heritage locket.

Joan's breath caught in her chest. She whispered, "From where did you receive that?"

Albert's grin deepened. "You've been seeking answers, Joan. You are, however, not prepared for the facts. Still not really anything."

Joan was motionless, stared at Albert, the atmosphere thick around her. Her head was spinning. By that, he meant? And why was he clutching the locket, the identical one passed down through her family? Was he a part of all these things? Was he in on the plot?

Joan's intuition cried for her to flee as Albert moved still further towards her. Nevertheless, she could not. Still not there. This is not when she was this near the truth.

Her fingers shook as she instinctively reached for her phone to text Alex. Before she could send it, however, Albert reached down and grabbed her wrists, strongly pulling her behind.

Albert whispered, his grip tightening, "You're too late.""Hope is already started."

The screen flickered as the phone hit the ground, clattering down from Joan's hand. Joan fought to get away, but Albert's grip was like rock, his expression darkening.

"Now, Joan," Albert whispered, "you'll finally see what I have concealed."​

Joan's mind raced, but before she could put everything together, Albert yanked her forwards the shadows; her sight became hazy as panic swept over her.