The Finch ArchiveDetective Isabelle Díaz: Brick Lane's whispersThe rain was a fat film in Brick Lane's cobblestones, which reflects the neon brightness of Curry's houses in a distorted and distorting way. I arrived my highest necklace, the cold leaked in my bones despite the layers. It was a Tuesday, late, and the usual vibrant buzzing of the street had been silenced by the...
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I read about Finch's notes. Carlos del Puente Stories
domingo, mayo 18, 2025 I read about Finch's notes.Blackwood Manor's rusty doors groaned in protest when detective Isabella "Izzy" Diaz opened them. The air hung thick and heavy, a cloying perfume of wet earth and decomposition leaves. Gothic architecture, a monument to the arrogance of an industrialist dead for a long time, stood against the sky of magulled twilight, its gargoyles apparently observe each movement. This place...
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He Ricardo Ricky Knuckles Alvarez the murderer of the torture of Chinese water drop. Carlos del Puente Stories,
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A shooting gallery with real bullets built as a maze of mirrors. Carlos del Puente Stories
viernes, mayo 16, 2025 A shooting gallery with real bullets built as a maze of mirrors.Raymond, a man whose name had the weight of a forgotten fairy tale, stumbled upon the twisted streets where Liothan lived, his eyes would narrow his eyes against the glow of neon who danced in the rainwater puddles. The city was a canvas of shadows, every alley whispered the secrets of its...
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In the hard scarcity of the jungle, they reproduced with permanent voracity to have bodies for the cannibal sacrifice newspaper that provided the meat for the three daily meals. Carlos del Puente Stories,
viernes, mayo 16, 2025 In the hard scarcity of the jungle, they reproduced with permanent voracity to have bodies for the cannibal sacrifice newspaper that provided the meat for the three daily meals."What is the password, Harry?""Raymond, no Harry", the man with an eyebrow was corrected, his eyes flashing in the faint light."Ah, correct. Sorry, Harry," said the stranger, revealing a set of bright teeth that seemed...
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Each character following his own mirror. Carlos del Puente Stories
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The path of lighting. "What's the name of this path?" Alejandro asked the old woman who was sitting at the foot of the huge oak that divided the path. She, with eyes tired of the passage of time, looked up from her sewing work and smiled kindly. "It's called the way of lighting," he replied. "But why?" The boy insisted, eager to discover the...
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All the roads of the forests were surrounded by walls on each side by which Liothan was to drift. Carlos del Puente Stories
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