Every time I close my eyes, I can still smell the acrid scent of burning cedar and old silk. It has been two years since that day in 1940, yet the image of my h...
The fascists think they can erase our souls by burning our villages and stealing our futures, Anonymous, but they have forgotten how to fear the shadows. Every...
As a ghost, I've grown accustomed to the feeling of being trapped between worlds. My existence is a perpetual state of limbo, a never-ending cycle of watching t...