Dowson City
(1946)
Dowson City—a small, quiet settlement in the vast landscapes of Canada. Officially recognized as a city, yet in reality, it was nothing more than a village where barely a thousand people lived their simple lives. A single service in each sector was enough to meet the needs of the community, all managed under the administration of Yukon.
Among its residents was Logan Sutherland, a 58-year-old ex-military officer from Yukon, Canada. Having served his country with honor, he now lived a peaceful life with his family in this secluded town. But one evening, everything changed.
That evening, Logan was outside, playing with his grandson. The air was cool, the sky painted in hues of orange and purple. Laughter filled the surroundings—until a massive shadow swept across the ground, moving swiftly above them. Logan's smile faded as he instinctively looked up, his sharp instincts from his military days kicking in.
There was nothing in the sky. Just a vast stretch of emptiness.
But something wasn't right. His gut told him so. And when he ventured towards the hills, his suspicions grew stronger. Right there, imprinted in the earth, was a gigantic footprint—larger than anything he had ever seen.
His heartbeat quickened. Was this real? Was someone—or something—out there?
Without wasting a second, Logan rushed to the nearest emergency unit, a small station where only three to six officers handled local affairs. When they arrived at the site, their initial response was filled with skepticism. They studied the footprint, exchanged confused glances, and soon dismissed it as a natural occurrence—perhaps the effect of erosion, wind patterns, or some random weather anomaly.
But Logan wasn't convinced.
Something deep inside him refused to believe their theories. The shadow he had seen—it wasn't just a trick of light. It wasn't his imagination. He could feel it in his bones—something was out there.
And so, driven by an unshakable curiosity—or perhaps fear—Logan began his own search. Day and night, he scoured the hills, looking for answers.
What was that shadow? What left those massive footprints?
And more importantly—was it watching them?
By Evelyn Monroe,
Artical Of The NewYork Journal.
Street-Fifth Avenue, NewYork
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The New York Journal
(A Fading Legacy?)
"We are already in a down phase, Evelyn. And you know this very well."
James Harper, the Editor-in-Chief of The New York Journal, spoke with a calm voice, but beneath it lay a deep sense of disappointment. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers loosely gripping the armrest, his eyes heavy with the weight of failing numbers and declining readership.
Evelyn stood in front of him, gripping an article page tightly in her hands. Her heart pounded, but her voice remained steady.
"James, you have to check this out. Believe me, this story is going to be huge for The New York Journal. It could put us back in the game. I'm still working on it, but I'm certain—this is our breakthrough."
James sighed and shook his head. "Not gonna work, Evelyn." His tone was firm as he settled deeper into his chair, closing his eyes as if the conversation was already over.
But Evelyn wasn't backing down.
"James, working on different stories is our job. And who knows what might hit the market? We should at least give it a try." Her voice was sharp, unwavering, as she waited for James to react.
Silence filled the room.
Evelyn glanced down at her article, her fingers tightening around the edges of the paper. No one knows how hard it was to dig this story out of the garbage of this city. It took me over a week to find it… and now, it's all slipping away just because of doubt?
Then, just as she was about to argue again, James broke the silence.
"Okay… go ahead." His voice was low, but there was something final about it. "Finish this story. Report it to me. You have one week. But keep this in mind—I don't want any mess. I don't have the patience to deal with another legal notice against this company."
He turned his chair away, closing his eyes again, as if dismissing her entirely.
Evelyn felt a rush of excitement—but she didn't show it. Instead, she gave a slight nod and quietly left the cabin.
She walked back to her desk, her heart racing. This is it.
Everything she had done over the past week—every sleepless night, every risk, every effort—had led to this moment. Hard work isn't just about effort; it's about focus. And focus makes a person strong. Willingness is a powerful force… and sometimes, one decision can change everything.
Evelyn gathered her notes, tucking them under her arm.
No mistakes. No second chances.
Her career—and The New York Journal—depended on it.
Without wasting another second, she rushed out of the office, hailed a taxi, and headed home. There was no time to waste.
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Evelyn's Home
(That Evening)
Evelyn sat on the floor, sorting through scattered papers on her desk. Frustration clouded her face as she tried to organize everything.
"These things are seriously starting to irritate me now... It's true—if your surroundings are messy, your mind feels the same. And the last thing I need right now is a restless mind that could ruin my career."
She let out a deep sigh and continued picking up documents, stacking them neatly.
Just then, the door creaked open, and a middle-aged woman stepped inside, carrying a cup of steaming coffee.
"Evelyn, what are you doing?" her mother asked, glancing at the mess around her.
"I'm cleaning my room, Mom. Do you want to praise me for it?" Evelyn replied, barely looking up as she focused on arranging the papers.
Her mother chuckled. "That's a great idea—praising you for doing something so... out of character might actually motivate you."
Evelyn rolled her eyes and gave her a fake smile. "So funny, Maa..." she muttered before getting back to work.
As she finished organizing the last pile, Evelyn turned toward her mother, her expression softening.
"By the way, Mom... thank you so much for the story. Your idea is actually working, and soon, I'm going to make it big."
She quickly placed the now-arranged papers in a file and stepped closer, wrapping her arms around her mother in an excited hug.
"You are amazing!" she said, kissing her on the cheek before returning to her cleaning.
Her mother smiled, brushing Evelyn's hair back gently. "That's good to hear. Now hurry up—you're cooking dinner tonight." She turned and walked out of the room, leaving Evelyn to her task.
Evelyn sighed but smiled to herself as she continued tidying up.
She opened her cupboard to put away the file—but as she did, something caught her eye.
A small folded paper tucked between her old files.
She picked it up and unfolded it, her heartbeat quickening as she recognized the handwriting.
"Oh... this paper... I remember now. That guy gave me the number and address of that house in Dowson City. This could be useful."
She carefully slipped the paper into her pocket, her mind now buzzing with thoughts about what to do next.
Then, shaking off the distraction, she got back to cleaning.
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A Late-Night Cooking Escape
The kitchen was quiet, except for the gentle ticking of the clock and the low hum of the fridge. The dim light above the counter gave everything a cozy glow.
Evelyn adjusted her apron and pulled on her gloves to keep her hands clean. Her non-slip shoes made a soft tapping sound as she moved across the tiled floor.
"Alright, let's see what we have." She opened the fridge, feeling the cool air rush against her face.
There wasn't much—a half-eaten loaf of bread, a few eggs, a block of cheese, and some fresh vegetables. She grabbed the eggs, cheese, bell pepper, onion, and spinach, deciding to make a cheesy vegetable omelet with toasted bread.
She cracked the eggs into a bowl, their golden yolks breaking smoothly. As she whisked them, the mixture turned light and airy. The soft sound of the fork against the bowl filled the kitchen.
She placed a chopping board on the counter and started cutting the onion. Its sharp scent made her eyes sting for a moment. The bell pepper was crisp, its fresh aroma mixing with the onion. She tore the spinach leaves gently, their earthy smell adding to the blend.
She turned on the stove, and the blue flame flickered beneath the pan. A drizzle of oil sizzled as it spread across the surface. When she tossed in the onions and bell peppers, a rich, warm fragrance filled the air.
The vegetables softened and turned golden, releasing their sweet and smoky aroma. She poured the eggs over them, watching as the mixture spread evenly in the pan. The eggs thickened slowly, their buttery scent filling the room.
She reached for the cheese, grating it over the cooking omelet. The soft shreds melted instantly, turning gooey and rich. The sight of the cheese stretching made her stomach growl.
While the omelet cooked, she popped two slices of bread into the toaster. Soon, the smell of golden, crispy toast filled the kitchen. She spread a thin layer of butter over the warm slices, watching it melt into the surface.
She carefully folded the omelet, and the melted cheese oozed from the edges. The buttery toast sat perfectly beside it, its crunchy texture a perfect balance.
Evelyn smiled, satisfied with her meal. But she wasn't eating alone.
She walked to the dining table, setting down two plates—one for herself and one for her mother. She placed the omelets and toast neatly, added two glasses of water, and lit a small candle in the middle.
"Mom, dinner is ready!" she called out.
Her mother entered the dining room, smiling warmly. The aroma of the freshly cooked food filled the space, making it feel like home.
"You didn't have to do all this, Evelyn," her mother said, sitting down.
"Of course, I did! You always cook for me. Tonight, it's my turn." Evelyn grinned as she took her seat.
They picked up their forks, and as Evelyn took the first bite, a feeling of warmth spread through her. The omelet was soft, creamy, and filled with rich, melted cheese. The toasted bread was crunchy and buttery, adding the perfect contrast.
Her mother took a bite and nodded approvingly. "This is delicious, Evelyn."
Evelyn smiled, her heart feeling full. It wasn't just about the food—it was about sharing a quiet, comforting moment together.
And for tonight, that was more than enough.