Mara’s boots crunched over frost-bitten gravel as she approached the iron gates of Blackvale Orphanage, the morning air sharp with the scent of pine and decay. The structure loomed ahead, its gothic spires clawing at a bruised sky, windows like…
The salt-kissed air hung thick with the scent of brine and blooming jasmine as Clara stepped off the creaking ferry, her boots sinking into the damp sand. The harbor smelled of oil and old wood, a fragrance that clung to…
The air tasted like iron by the time Mara reached the edge of the woods. She paused, her boots crunching over frost-bitten leaves, and glanced back at the town behind her—its crooked rooftops glowing faintly in the predawn dark. The…
The first time Jordan saw Clara, she was kneading dough in a sunlit kitchen, her sleeves rolled to the elbows, flour dusting her forearms like snow. The smell of cinnamon and burnt sugar hung in the air, mingling with the…
The air smelled of salt and diesel as Clara navigated the narrow dock, her boots splashing in the wake of the fishing boats. She’d always hated the way the harbor reeked of brine and decay, but today the stench felt…
Clara’s fingers traced the spines of books in the dim glow of the library’s overhead lights, each touch a silent conversation with stories she’d memorized. The air smelled of aged paper and lavender, a scent that clung to her like…
The rain fell in steady sheets as Mara stepped off the bus, her boots sinking into the muddy path leading to the town of Blackwood. The air smelled of wet pine and something sharper—oil, maybe, or decay. She pulled her…
The first thing Clara noticed was the smell of salt and diesel. It clung to her clothes, sharp and relentless, like the town itself. She stepped off the ferry onto the dock, her boots clicking against the weathered planks. The…
Mara stepped off the rusted ferry, her boots crunching on gravel as the salt-kissed wind tugged at her coat. The town of Black Hollow stretched before her, a cluster of weathered cottages clinging to the cliffs like barnacles. Ten years…
The salt air stank of brine and diesel as Clara stepped off the ferry, her boots crunching over gravel. The dock creaked under her weight, a sound that seemed to echo through the quiet harbor. She pulled her coat tighter,…
The air tasted of salt and possibility when Clara first saw him. He stood at the edge of the dock, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hands braced on the weathered wood as if steadying himself against something unseen. The sun…
The first time Clara saw Daniel since the summer of 2012, he was kneeling in the sand, tracing letters into the damp earth with a stick. The air smelled like salt and burnt sugar from the carnival rides across the…
The first time she saw him, the sky was bleeding orange through the storm clouds. Lila had been running for miles, her boots slapping against the wet pavement, when she stumbled into the shelter of a flickering streetlamp. The air…
Mara pulled her coat tighter as the wind shrieked through the pines, biting at her exposed skin. The lighthouse stood ahead, its beam slicing the night like a blade. She hadn’t set foot in Hollow’s End since the summer her…
The first time Clara saw him, the sea was bleeding. Not literally—though the horizon had that reddish tint some called “blood sky”—but the way he stood at the edge of the dock, shoulders hunched against the wind, made her think…