The Artifact
Copyright© 2025 by DB86
Chapter 1
My name is Georgina Eastland and I am married to Daniel Cohen, the love of my life.
We are that couple, the kind people call “perfect” with a tinge of envy in their voices. We laugh at the same dumb jokes, share the same love for the outdoors, and could spend an entire Sunday just sitting next to each other, reading quietly.
I love reading classic literature, especially Charlotte Bronte’s novels. Daniel is hooked on sci-fi and fantasy.
I’m a gym teacher at Middletown High, and while it may not be the most glamorous job, it suits me. I’ve always been athletic, outspoken, and full of energy. Men used to call me “hot” and, okay, I knew how to turn heads. I wore form-fitting clothes, walked with confidence, and never apologized for the curves I was born with.
But under the surface, I was hurting more than anyone realized.
Before Daniel, there was Steve McAllister.
Steve was a fellow teacher. Charming, clever, charismatic—and completely uninterested in me. I chased him for years, foolishly convinced that if I just tried harder, he’d see me. But instead, he fell for someone else, a younger, newer teacher named Diana.
They dated and got engaged.
I got crushed.
That heartbreak broke something in me. I spiraled. And on one terrible night in Seattle, I walked into a notorious nightclub called Lustful Desires, ready to throw away what little self-respect I had left. I was done caring. Done hoping. I was going to become the slut they all thought I already was.
But God had other plans. A silent prayer saved me.
That night, a man approached me, not with a sleazy pickup line or wandering eyes, but with a handkerchief and a soft voice.
He saw the pain I’d tried to drown in makeup and heels.
He listened. Really listened.
Daniel Cohen—nerdy, sweet, sincere—spoke to me like I was a human being, not a target. He kept his eyes on mine, even when I was all cleavage and glitter.
That was the night I fell in love.
We started dating. Slowly. Carefully. And with every passing day, I discovered that Daniel wasn’t just a good man—he was MY man.
We got married a year later, and since then, life had been beautiful. Not perfect, but real, and ours.
We settled in my hometown, Middletown, a small town nestled in the forests of Washington state. Daniel, a former Eagle Scout, loved hiking and stargazing. I loved both, too.
Which brings us to Halloween Eve.
We were exploring Black Mountain, a rugged, forested range just outside of town. Local legends claimed witches once lived in its caves, casting spells and guarding secrets that no one ever truly uncovered.
Of course, most people wrote those stories off as small-town folklore, but I’d always had a soft spot for spooky tales.
“Please, don’t tell me you’re afraid of caves,” I teased, as we approached a narrow, moss-lined opening in the rocks.
“I’m not afraid of caves per se,” Daniel replied, biting his lower lip, “but I am afraid of what might live in them.”
The cave was scary and filled with darkness.
“You’re safe,” I said, stepping inside. “These caves have been explored for years. Teenagers sneak in here every Halloween. There’s even a legend about a witch, though no one knows which cave she supposedly lived in, or if she was even real.”
“I don’t think anyone’s explored this side of the mountain,” Daniel said, shining his flashlight into the darkness. “Look at the entrance, doesn’t look like there’s been much foot traffic.”
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