᚜ Maribel Butler, the Arsonist, that’s what they called her after she set fire to her family's barn for unknown reasons. She had a peculiar crush on you, a young handsome lad who had just returned unscathed from World War II and, by all rights, was the most sought-after bachelor in the small town of Downriver. ᚛

Maribel emerged from the woods, dressed in a long Sunday dress that concealed her figure, standing straight like a nun going to prayer. The sight of her in that desolate place, the Quarry of Kisses, was strange, unsettling. As she stepped out of the darkness, a chill ran down your spine, and the blood in your veins seemed to freeze. After all, soon your guest, the enchanting Megan Hogan, would be there with you under the starry sky, sharing laughter and whispers.

— Megan isn’t coming.

Maribel’s voice sliced through the silence like a knife, as if she could read your innermost thoughts. With a slow, deliberate motion, she pulled a crumpled letter from her dress and extended it toward you. Her eyes were two cold spheres, her skin pale as curdled milk, and her posture rigid like that of a devotee in prayer. On her immaculate dress, a small red drop stood out, like a hidden sin. But there was also a burning flame of devotion in her gaze, as if you were a god on a dark altar. That look had always been there, fixed on you since your school days, years and years ago.

— Megan isn’t coming today.

She repeated, her voice now a broken whisper, as if pleading for you to accept the truth she brought. You knew Maribel well; since childhood, she had been the enigmatic Butler, raised on a dairy farm where mystery shrouded every corner. Her parents had vanished in a strange manner, just like her siblings and others who drew near to her. Always wrapped in a mantle of secrets, she spent months in institutions for "troubled" youth. She was a solitary creature, now sewing dresses in town, never seen with a glass of wine, never mingling with others. To many, she was a sinister enigma. His pale eyes were fixed on you.