Pieces_The Empty Room_The Haunting of Birchwood Manor_The Stolen Spell Book
Catalog Guide:
Pieces
The Mother’s hands grip the steering wheel as she watches her Son in the passenger seat out of the corner of her eye. She allowwww.onedoor.ccs the tremble of her hands to vibrate into the steering wheel, blending with the gentle rumble of the car’s movement over the road. “Well, how was school today?” The Mother asks in a voice pitched slightly higher than what’s natural for her.“It’s fine,” the Son replies while scrolling through his Facebook feed.“Good. And Grandma?” She briefly turns toward him, placing her right forearm on the steering wheel. The Son glances at her arm with a clenched jaw, then looks ou...
The Empty Room
The Empty RoomDowntown Cincinnati (2 miles from UC) A black ford escapade with flashing blue-plum lights pulls up to one of the lesser than habitable part of Cincinnati. A pair of Cincinnati police cars are parked outside of the crime scene. Detective Agnes Harris steps out of a black Dodge charger joined by her counterpart Detective Joel Washington.Robert Mitchell aka Badge joins the pair after his Ford escapade pulls up. His team of Crime scene investigators join him which include Reese Williams, Johnny “Shaman” High-eagle and Dr. Alison Kim. All but Reese and Shaman are wearing dark suits...
The Haunting of Birchwood Manor
Hi people! This is my first story! Most of you might know me from all poetry. Enjoy.The Haunting of Birchwood Manor By Lily Green“What do you want from me?”Ainsley White had always tried to ignore them. But she wasn’t sure she could anymore. “Play?”“No,” she said shakily. “No play.” She got to her feet and stared at herself in the mirror, willing away the angry ghost. She described herself as she often did in her head, none of the words changing since she first imagined herself in someone else’s eyes. She was a short girl, with long black hair in braids, dyed white at the tips. She had eyes t...
The Stolen Spell Book
The rain came down hard, dribbling off the awnings and rooftops like a thousand leaky faucets, splattering pavement along with the rest of the free-falling water from the sky. The light from the streetlamps gave an ugly glare as cars sped by, and the sidewalks were left virtually empty, say for a lone pedestrian with a big black leathery umbrella. She ran across the crosswalk with a bag clutched tight against her chest, trying to protect it from the wind and rain. The young woman stepped under the canopy of “Ottawa’s Rare Books,” shaking off her umbrella and closing it before trying the...