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The Attic

The flecks of dust began to gleam in the morning light. Laura glanced across at the moth-eaten sheets that draped across the old wooden bed frame. No one could have…

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The Shadow

  He wasn't afraid of his own shadow anymore. He was the shadow. The darkness of night, seeped into one cadaverous shade that clung to him like a leech. For…

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The Sky

The Sky   Years of study, months and weeks of practical training, countless minutes of memorising; everything she had crammed into her keen mind had all led up to this…

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The Writer

The Writer   The writer often hoped that her writing would not come off too autobiographical. She wanted to write, for the love of writing. And yet there's no real…

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The Voice

The Voice   He heard it that morning, louder than ever before. The voice. It loved to wake him in the middle of the night as he lay next to…

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