When I was a mere boy of twelve years, impoverished and cold, I roamed the shadowy streets of Violshire, hunger gnawing at my empty belly. My tattered rags clung to my fragile frame and the chill of the night wind pierced the threadbare garments.
My days in the darkened recesses within the city were aimless, devoid of purpose. My time around the other children had been tough. They hadn’t much involved me in their plans, except when they got rough and didn’t want a challenge of course. One day I chanced upon a peculiar establishment with an air of antiquity. It had weathered walls, a faded sign that creaked on rusty hinges and swung eerily in the wind, revealing the words, “Mr S. Crope, Purveyor of Curiosities."
This story has been removed from Substack. It is now available exclusively as part of my published collection on Kindle.
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A.B. Frank
The notes I made before writing this story, and my reaction to them, can be found in the post below:
Beneath the Dial: The Origins of My Haunted Timepiece Tale
As you know, my debut short story collection, In Plain Sight, Unseen, will be released soon.
Reads very smoothly. 👍