GoldenSpeech
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Stories (1945)
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The Mirror That Learned to Dream
In a museum basement, forgotten behind dust and velvet ropes, stood a mirror that no one dared clean. It didn’t reflect what was — only what you wanted to see. A smile that never happened. A hand that never reached back. A version of you that didn’t leave.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The Girl Who Drew the Moon
The girl was born in a city that never saw stars. Every night, she climbed to the rooftop and painted constellations on the smog-stained sky with glow-in-the-dark ink. The neighbors laughed — until one evening, her drawings didn’t fade. The next night, new stars appeared, forming shapes only she understood: a ladder, a key, a doorway.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The Painter Who Burned Her Shadows
Vivienne painted fire. Her canvases seemed to move — brushstrokes alive, colors shimmering with heat. Critics called her “the girl who painted souls.” But what they didn’t know was that each painting was born from something she burned: her journals, her photographs, even her childhood toys. Every ash became pigment.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The Garden of Glass
On the edge of a desert stood a greenhouse made entirely of glass — transparent walls, transparent soil, transparent life. Inside, a woman named Selene tended to her fragile creations. The flowers glowed faintly, humming when the wind passed through them. They had no scent, no color — only music.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The Clockmaker’s Daughter
In the heart of a forgotten city stood a shop that never closed, filled with clocks that ticked out of sync. Each one measured something different — joy, sorrow, regret, forgiveness. The clockmaker, an old man with trembling hands, built them for people who wished to turn time into something they could touch.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The Color That Was Never Named
Mira was born blind but claimed to “see in sound.” When she began to paint, her family thought it madness — yet her canvases pulsed with beauty. She mixed pigments by memory, humming to them as if they were alive. Her final masterpiece, found after her death, was unfinished: a single curved streak of luminescence across a void of black.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The House Beneath the River
The river shifted its course long ago, but beneath its surface lay the remains of a village swallowed by floods. Locals whispered that on foggy nights, a faint glow rose from the water, outlining the roof of a house that no longer existed. Travelers who followed the light were never seen again.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
The Whispering Light
They said the old church on the hill was cursed — that when lightning struck it in the middle of winter, the flames didn’t just burn wood and stone, but swallowed time itself. For weeks afterward, smoke lingered in the air, rising like prayers no one answered. When the villagers finally dared to return, they found one wall still standing — blackened, blistered, yet pulsing faintly, as though alive.
By GoldenSpeech3 months ago in Chapters
