Mystery
The Graveyard Hotel
I ran my fingers over the envelope and along the edges of the black seal that secured the contents inside. There was no stamp and no return address. No such letter was found in my mailbox or even tucked in between the front screen door. The letter seemingly appeared out of nowhere on my kitchen table.
By Jasmine Aguilar2 months ago in Chapters
The Hoarder
Kendal was glad he'd got the barbed wire although it was a bastard to work with. Luckily, he had some thick leather gloves just for the purpose, picked up from a house sale in Barnsley after a particularly fraught encounter with an arms' dealer in 1976. He'd come across the house sale on the way home after a long debrief, the sign for it stuck to a lamp-post, a messy creation written on the back of an old cereal box which seemed oddly charming and parochial after the bloodiness of what he had just experienced. The craving for something pedestrian and domestic and normal drew him in. It had proved a levelling distraction, sorting through the things left behind by someone who'd had a pretty standard existence. Kendal had felt envious of the simplicity of a life lived represented in the items remaining and for sale to others, and it had grounded him on a day when that's what he needed.
By Rachel Deeming2 months ago in Chapters
The Hoarder
Michael had never considered himself a man without feeling, and seeing Kendal as he tried to collect his emotions touched something inside him. There was no doubt in Michael's mind that he was out of his depth. His gut was tightening and he struggled as to what to do. He felt like he should get up and put a consoling hand on the old man's shoulder or something decent and human, at least.
By Rachel Deeming2 months ago in Chapters
