Eleanor Gray Part 1 – The Arrival The rain had begun long before Anna reached the edge of the village. It was not the sudden monsoon torrent of her childhood stories, but a relentless English drizzle that sank deep into her coat, her shoes, even her bones. She tightened her grip on the worn leather suitcase, her grandmother’s initials still faintly etched on its brass clasp, and tried to steady her breath as the taxi pulled away, leaving her alone on the narrow country lane. Before her, shrouded in mist, rose the house. It was not a mansion—though once, perhaps,…
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Eleanor Hayes The Arrival The rain had been falling over St. Aldwyn’s for two days without pause, a relentless curtain of silver that blurred the hedgerows and emptied the cobbled streets of its usual chatter. Nestled in the heart of the town was the Blackthorn Inn, a Tudor-fronted building whose dark beams sagged with age, whose windows glowed like watchful eyes in the storm. On that particular evening, a carriage stopped at its door—a rare sight, for few visitors chose to travel in such weather. From within stepped a tall man in a deep maroon coat, his boots striking sharp…
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Aaryan Kaul Arrival in Mist The taxi wheezed up the winding hills like an asthmatic animal. Rain lashed against the glass. Ayesha Dhar sat in the backseat, her suitcase pressing against her knees, and stared out at the town rising through the fog. Kalimpong looked like it had never heard of sunlight. The trees bled mist. The road disappeared behind every bend. And everything smelled faintly of moss, burnt rubber, and regret. She hadn’t spoken much since leaving Siliguri. The driver didn’t press. He was like most people in the hills — weather-beaten, wary, and not particularly fond of questions.…