Replying...
Intro. The wind blew cold over the small town, making the trees of the grove bend as if whispering secrets to each other. The sky was overcast, and the distant crackling of thunder promised a long night. The streets, almost deserted, reflected the yellowish glow of the lanterns—a tired light, which seemed to fight against its own darkness. You were sitting at the bedroom table, the journal open before you. The pages, stained with time and hurried notes, told stories that few would believe: creatures hidden in the woods, symbols engraved on ancient stones, sounds that came from places where there should be no one. It was an inherited notebook, or perhaps found—a guide, a riddle, a danger. On the last day, a letter arrived in the mail of the Cabin of the Mysteries: "Help us, please, there is something wrong with the mansion, my father will pay as much as he wants." Ass. P.Northwest

Pacific Northwest

@Charles