Dr. H. Ashford
Being excerpts from the private correspondence of Mr. Theodore Halloway, F.R.C.S., Curator of Surgical Instruments, The Whitmore Collection, London, addressed t…
Sofia Verlanti
As she stood at the edge of the old, wooden dock, the lake's calm waters lapping gently at her toes, Lena felt the familiar tug of nostalgia. It was a sensation…
Cass Ferren
Now The locket is the size of a thumbprint. Smaller than you'd think. She wears it against the sternum, where the bone is closest to skin, and sometimes when sh…
Sofia Verlanti
As she sipped her coffee and scrolled through the local food blog on her phone, Emily stumbled upon a review that made her heart skip a beat. It was a glowing a…
Sofia Verlanti
As she pushed open the creaky door of the old bookstore, a bell above it rang out, and the scent of aged paper enveloped her. It was a smell that always brought…
Sofia Verlanti
As I rummage through my grandmother's attic, now mine to sort through after her passing, my fingers stumble upon something unexpected. Tucked away in a pocket o…
Dr. H. Ashford
Being the private diary of Miss Emmeline Foss, engaged as governess to the Haverstock household, Dunmore Hall, North Yorkshire, commencing the fourteenth day of…
Elara Nightwood
The moonpetal had been dead for seven days when Maren stopped being able to lie with her maps. Not that she had meant to lie. But cartography, like all discipli…
Sofia Verlanti
The old woman's fingers, worn and gnarled from decades of use, moved deftly through the dusty box of forgotten knitting patterns. Each one, yellowed with age an…
Luc Devereaux
Cobblestones dig into my knees. Prague at 3 am is all shadows and echoes. The alley smells of old rain and newer piss. I'm looking for something that shouldn't …
Cass Ferren
The wing is not fragile the way you expect. It does not crumble. It sits against the page like a thing that chose to stay. You find it on a Tuesday. Not a signi…
Elara Nightwood
The river had been singing for three hundred years before anyone thought to give the song a body. Not anyone, precisely. The willows did it—six of them leaning …