The Haunting

The Still Water

The key turns with a dry snap, unlocking a door that opens onto a room suspended in the dust of our departure. The air is thick, still. We step across the threshold; the floorboards do not creak, holding the weight of eleven years like stone. Light from the…

The Unmoved Hour

The key turned with a sound like a bone snapping in deep water. Rust flaked from the iron, coating my thumb in dry, red grit that smelled of old pennies and wet earth. The lock gave way, not with a click, but a groan, the wood reluctant to admit me. A draft…

The Unsent Stack

The iron key turns with a grind that scrapes the bone of Elias's thumb. Rust flakes onto his cuff, red and dry. The door swings inward, releasing a breath of air smelling of wet wool and old paper. Dust motes hang in the grey shafts of light cutting through…