Welcome to The Wrinkle_The Spirit Demon_Oarmen's Hollow_Promise and Price
Catalog Guide:
Welcome to The Wrinkle
(Author note: Contains violence.)“Anger is like bamboo. If it takes root, soon that’s all your garden will grow.” -Proverbs of The Forgotten. Tired. Stub was damned near to the point of exhaustion when he stumbled upon The Wrinkle. A small town that made other small towns look like the capital of Uto that was said to scrape the heavens. Stub knew that was some horse shit; Uto had tall buildings alright, but only a few out of thousands. They were the old ones, left behind by The Forgotten after they were, well, forgotten. The big brains in Uto had been trying to recreate those behemoths for cen...
The Spirit Demon
It was raining. Of course it was. That’s all it ever does in this backward town. Some may call it London, they get so excited by it’s grand clock and overpriced “souvenirs”, but it’s not what it used to be. Nothing is. It isn’t right. We were the only ones in the square. Everyone in London was hiding. Cowards. Like in some story setting. Unrealistic. Was it that, or was I tuning out the world? Selfish. That’s right, I’m selfish. That’s how I cope. I don’t know any other way. The fountain just seemed to be gurgling quietly, and the light seemed to be spotlighting me and the stranger. Their hood...
Oarmen's Hollow
(Author's note: as always in my writing, this is a weird one. Take care, as it does have darker themes.)An inky alley leads to the grime-ridden walls of an old pub. The door that promises the stench of rot within is offset, weathered by rain and age. But the signage is almost modern, lit by neon lights that blink the words “Oarmen’s Hollow.” Beneath it, another sign, “open whenever.” But the second sign isn’t fully lit, only the letters “open eve” buzz with life. Evening. On the eve of the day. Eve of the holiday. No one knows what’s meant by it, but more importantly, no one cares to know. It’...
Promise and Price
He was late, again. I cursed whatever thread of fate had landed me with such an irresponsible partner for my class project. I stood, eyes rolling, deciding to wander the shelves while I waited. He wouldn’t arrive within the next quarter-hour, anyway. I rarely had time to read for myself during the school year, but maybe I could use this as an opportunity to do just that. As I stepwww.onedoor.ccped into the fiction section, enveloped in the soothing labyrinth of old metal shelves, I took a deep breath and soaked in the comforting scent of the library. There was the lovely and obvious smell of the books, lar...