This is a collection of short stories continuing the story of the trilogy (Forestvale Manor, Dagon Mansion and Scarlett).
In any case, they can be read by whoever wants. Although they can be understood better if you read the trilogy.
They are storie...
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As Bluebell Tyrion made her way through the winding alleys of Artshel, she found herself enveloped in the gentle hum of the traffic that surrounded her. The sound of passing cars and the occasional honking of horns created a pleasant symphony that added a soothing backdrop to her thoughts. She paused, basking in the caress of the sun on her face, thankful for the respite after days of relentless rain.
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Bluebell, a woman in her forties, exuded elegance. Her luscious blonde locks cascaded like silk down her back in gentle waves, harmonizing with her elegant poise. Her hazel eyes, akin to chameleons, danced between shades of grey, brown, and golden, captivating and enigmatic. Her slender figure, a source of pride, swayed with a mesmerizing grace that demanded attention and was impossible to overlook. Despite defying conventional beauty norms, she exuded an enigmatic magnetism that irresistibly pulled others towards her, leaving an unforgettable imprint.
Bluebell had reached the bustling main street, a moment she had eagerly anticipated, her heart quickening with a mix of excitement and nervousness at what awaited her. The spacious street was lined with large, elegant buildings that seemed to soar up to the sky. As she looked around, she realized that the street had remained unchanged, just as she remembered it. One of the buildings caught her attention as she noticed a small, subtle gold sign hanging outside, gleaming under the sunlight, displaying the words "Wet Dreams Editorial. Fourth floor." A broad smile spread across Bluebell's face as she realized that she was finally going to meet Melissa Richardson, her favorite author and publisher.
With a sense of excitement and anticipation, she clutched the folder tightly in her hands. The folder contained the precious manuscript of her novel, "The Forbidden Fruit of a Curious Mind." As she made her way towards the building, she couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and nervousness. After all, this was her moment to show Melissa Richardson what she was made of.
Melissa Richardson was seated at her office table, reading one of the most recent works that dozens of people gave her each week in the hopes of being published by her publishing company.
