Tag: #WritingCommunity
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🔥 The Ash Whisperer
When the woods breathe secrets no one wants to hear Picture a forest that hums on its own frequency. A place where every leaf trembles like it’s clutching a secret and the air hangs thick with rumors. That’s Briar Hollow. A sleepy little town with one diner, two gas pumps, and a whole lot of…
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Smoke Between Us
When truth burns hotter than loyalty, even friends become strangers The ballroom shimmered like a diamond under siege. Velvet drapes framed the high windows, gold-rimmed glasses clinked, and a faint hum of polite laughter tried to hide the tension that was crawling beneath every tailored suit and satin dress. It was supposed to be a…
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The Last Chapter of Linden Books
When a failing bookstore becomes a sanctuary for lost stories and forgotten dreams The bell above the door of Linden Books gave its half-hearted jingle, a sound more nostalgic than inviting. Dust motes hung suspended in the air like ghosts, illuminated by the pale morning light filtering through the display window. The air carried that…
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The Summer That Never Was
I. The Golden Frame For years, Sam told the same story about the summer of 1998.He’d close his eyes and see it like a movie — warm sunlight bleeding through the cottonwoods, a red Schwinn bike, the shimmer of the lake, and her — Emily Rivers — standing on the dock in that faded yellow…
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The Last Letter
The postman had been coming to Elm Street for twenty years, and he’d never seen the old house at number 47 with its front door open. The place had a kind of haunted quiet, even in daylight. People said the woman who lived there, Mrs. Whitmore, rarely came outside except to tend to her roses.…
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When the Curtain Fell
There’s a particular kind of silence that only happens right before a person’s life changes. It’s not the peaceful kind — it’s a silence that holds its breath, that waits, that trembles just a little at the edges. I felt that silence sitting in the second row of the small community theater, hands clenched around…
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The Library Beneath the Roots
The first thing Mira noticed was the smell—old paper and petrichor, like rain on ancient stone. She hadn’t meant to find the place. Honestly, she’d been running from the storm. The forest of Verrenwood was notorious for its silence, the kind of quiet that presses against your ears until you start hearing your own heartbeat…
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The House That Spoke My Name
I suppose I should start by saying this: the house wasn’t haunted. Not really.At least, not in the way people mean when they say that word—no floating plates, no ghostly whispers at three in the morning. It was quieter than that. The kind of quiet that presses on your ears until you start hearing your…
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Between the Whispers of Sleep
Evan Cross hadn’t slept in three days—or maybe he had, but just didn’t remember waking up. Time had become something of a suggestion lately, a fog-draped blur where clocks ticked backward and shadows whispered in familiar voices. He sat in his apartment’s living room, staring at the peeling wallpaper. Sometimes the patterns moved. Sometimes they…
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The Weekend That Wasn’t Planned
It started with a phone call—short, apologetic, and just like that, everything she’d been preparing for vanished. “Hey, Emma, sorry to do this last minute,” her boss said, voice tight with fake regret. “The conference in Denver’s been postponed. We’ll reschedule next quarter.” Emma stared at her color-coded planner, still open on her desk. Three…