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Journal Entry #1 — The Recording
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I Drove Through a Town That Doesn’t Exist
Weather-beaten buildings leaned at uneasy angles along the single dirt road. Their paint had long ago peeled away under years of sun and snow, leaving gray wood exposed like old bone. A rusted sign creaked above the entrance to the general store, swinging slowly whenever the cold mountain breeze passed through. Most of the windows…
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I Thought I Bought a Dream Home. I Was Wrong.
The house stood at the end of the street like something that had outlived the rest of the neighborhood by sheer stubbornness alone. Built more than a century ago, the Victorian mansion rose three stories high beneath steep gables and weather-darkened slate shingles, its narrow windows glinting faintly behind curtains yellowed with age. A round…
Liz Zemlicka 