The morning sun cast a golden glow over Demomire as Tilly made her way through the town’s cobblestone streets. Her basket, filled with freshly picked
The saloon was a maelstrom of noise and smoke, a rough establishment on the edge of civilization, hundreds of miles from Demomire. Men laughed, argued,
Sheriff Silas McPherson strolled down Main Street, his boots kicking up small puffs of dust with each step. The investigation into the stagecoach robbery had
My Dearest Vincent, I’ve hesitated for too long, holding this pen with thoughts that felt too heavy to translate into words. But here I am,
The days are blending together like the dust and grime on my boots. I can barely tell one sun-stained afternoon from the next. I reckon
Dust motes danced in the shafts of light that spilled through the broken panes as the grand doors of The Krause Theatre creaked open under
In the hushed hours of the Whispering Pines Boarding House, the air hung thick with the aroma of Mrs. Fletcher’s apple pie, still lingering from
Newspaper Article in “The Demomire Dispatch”, February 7th, 1867 – “A Perilous Pilferage” By Cassandra Love Amidst the perilous passes and ghostly mists that swathe
