I should have looked away.
But the painting held me—its snowbound expanse, the silent trees, the lone mountain crowned with a woman too serene for the storm around her. It whispered not in words, but in a feeling. Dread wrapped in beauty. Longing buried beneath frost.
Then, the figure in the painting moved.
Not before my eyes—but within the world I could not escape each time I closed them.
I wasn’t dreaming.
A tale of sorrow and loss. And most importantly, introducing Blackridge & Sons
Rachel stood in the living room, admiring the mirror she had inherited. Shivers ran down her spine and she felt tears well up, thinking back on that fateful day. Two months ago, while she was at work, she had gotten a call from her brother, Joe. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Rachel. […]
A woman stricken with grief, an ancient heirloom and a struggle
As a cloud falls in Elgis Pass, madness follows
Who doesn’t want ice cream?
What hides in these woods?
A mysterious ship, an SOS and an investigator.
I write this letter to you, David and Esther Ellington, to try to explain the demise of your son, Graham Ellington. My name is Ian Murdoch, and I was a good friend of Graham’s, right until the end. I have arranged for his remains to be cremated, and his ashes scattered at sea, the […]
Sometimes a dog just needs a little attention
Temple of Morrbanesh 
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