stevenmeehan

⚡ The king feared the Storm Warden. He should have feared the negotiation. 👑 Wind whipped past Amelia’s face as rain washed over her body. She peered over the edge and tightened her fist. She stepped off the roof and drifted down, stopping before a window. Amelia glared through it and growled, thrusting a hand toward it. A tendril of water rushed from the stormy clouds and shattered the glass. It snatched a trim man, yanking him out by his waist. Once he cleared the tower, they sailed back into the sky. Amelia landed on the tiles and turned to face the screaming figure dangling over nothing. She groaned and waved her hand. More rain plummeted, wrapping around his mouth. She leaned forward and thumped the man’s chest. “I’ll release you if you promise to stop shrieking.” The man nodded, his eyes whipping about before glancing back down at the void under his feet. With a flourish of Amelia’s fingers, the water gripping the man’s face fell, soaking his clothes. “Now let’s talk.” The

⚙️ A letter disrupted Elara’s routine. Her automaton noticed. ✉️ Elara’s gaze drifted to the letter. She covered the words with a steadying hand and released a breath. Her eyes darted from Kaleb’s request to the remnants of her day. The cracked washer left the bench with a tap against the weathered wood. With a huff, she rose and dropped the washer into a wall tray. Scattered tidbits went into a chipped ceramic bowl before her gaze returned to the letter. Elara’s automaton stood motionless in the workshop’s shadowed corner. Elara scoffed, grabbing a nearby rag. “Stop watching me clean.” The automaton’s head shifted, its eyes pulsing. Soft laughter filled her workshop as she wiped down the bench’s surface. “I suppose that’s fair since I study you.” Rain rattled the windows, though the pitter-patter proved it wouldn’t become a full-throated storm... Did you enjoy the excerpt? I'd love to hear your thoughts. A single croissant brings you into the community and unlocks this and all of

📝 A dead man sent one line to the woman he left behind. The PI wondered if the house held the answer. 🔍 Kyle leaned against the wall and stared at the dining table. He lifted the letter Clara Marsh had given him. She claimed the writing was her husband’s. The court declared him dead two years ago after he disappeared on a rafting trip, yet the conviction behind her words compelled Kyle to come. Inside the boarding home Thomas’s sister inherited, he looked toward Thomas’s widow. Clara sat nearest the window, having refused the seat Evelyn had pulled out for her. The dwindling light washed over Clara’s face, draining what little color remained from her fair skin. Kyle’s gaze drifted to the table where Evelyn buffed her delicate nails. Kyle cleared his throat and crossed the room to lay the piece of paper before Thomas’s sister. She glanced at the sheet and scoffed. “My brother is dead. Why are you wasting our time?” Kyle leaned down and thumped the solitary line. I am still in the