I told myself I wouldn’t come back. It had been long enough that the forest had begun reclaiming the old ruins. Ivy crept over the stone archways, moss softened the broken walls, and the paths I once knew had almost disappeared beneath the undergrowth. Yet...
The first sign that something was wrong was that the house had moved. Not far. Just a little further up the hill than yesterday, with its enormous red mushroom roof peeking above the autumn trees and two rather suspicious chicken feet planted firmly in the grass....
By the time night had settled properly, the world had gone quiet in the way only dangerous places do. Not peaceful quiet. Not gentle. The kind of quiet that feels watchful, as though the dark itself is listening for hoofbeats. Deep in the shadows, where the rocks...
Autumn evenings feel as though they dress up just for the pleasure of being admired. The sky turns the colour of old honey. The trees burn red at the edges. Lanterns begin to glow before the light has fully gone, and suddenly the world feels slower, softer, and just a...
By the time the evening had gone properly dark, the water was black as glass and the old stones had begun to hold their breath. Lanterns glowed low among the ruins, throwing just enough light to catch the edges of broken pillars, creeping moss and the slow, unsettling...
