I had heard rumors of the game’s existence on various gaming sites and message boards, but I never guessed it to be real. I spent . . .
On December 21st, 2017, Scotty Johnson descended the stairs that led into the windowless basement of our old home on University Avenue. Justin, my other . . .
The ancient grandfather clock sang in the great hall— the monotone chimes echoed as my foot tapped nervously upon the oak floor. It was midday, . . .
Charlie wiped his brow as thunder rolled in the distance. A symphony of raindrops fell on the crops, and darkness washed over the farm as . . .