SETH RIVERA AND THE ULTIMATE BLACK CARD

The Encounter

The sound of the gravel under the shoe soles grew louder as they neared the cottage, and it was stillness of the night. A dim light shone from the porch, the light from which extended to the front step. Phoebe stopped right before they got to the door, staring at the tiny cottage with the shutters and the flower pots that were empty for someone to paint. She looked at Oliver and said in a low tone.

Can you imagine that this place hides something? Stories hidden in the walls?”

Oliver looked at her for a moment before responding to her question. “Maybe. Every house does, doesn’t it? The type of narratives that can be touched even if they cannot be heard. The sound of footsteps, the coldness of the air in the hallway, the lighting in the house which is perfect in some areas. They all hold something.”

Phoebe smiled a little, her fingers tracing over the top of the wooden banister in front of her. “I like that thought. Perhaps we will write something of our own into it. Those which make it