Cold War Era

I had only come to my grandmother’s house to clean out her attic, not to discover the secret of time travel.

The air was thick with dust as I opened the creaking door to the attic. Stale and musty, like the memories I’d buried long ago, it reminded me of the summers I used to spend here as a child— back when everything seemed simpler. But now, standing alone in the attic, the weight of those memories made my chest feel tight. Read more

“She never believed in legends until she stumbled upon an ancient book that spoke of time bending at the whisper of a name.”

It was raining in Berlin that day, the kind of cold, steady rain that seems to seep into your bones, making you feel heavy and tired no matter how warm your coat is. I had been working at the old bookstore for months now, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the city. The store had once been grand, but it had faded with time, just like its owner, Mr. Werner, who now rarely left his back office. Read more

The first note of the violin hung in the air like a forgotten whisper. It echoed softly through the old, creaking walls of my grandmother’s house, the melody tugging at a place deep inside me I didn’t know existed. I paused, my hand resting on the edge of a dusty shelf filled with old books and trinkets, as the song filled the room. The sound was delicate, almost fragile, like something from a dream I couldn’t quite remember. Read more