This is an excerpt from a longer literary work in progress. It explores the private self that existed before the world learned her name. The bathtub filled slowly, the way quiet things do. Steam softened the mirror first. Her reflection blurred at the edges, the hard lines of her face
A lost hiker shelters near the Bennington Triangle, where a house appears in the storm and offers a warmth he didn’t expect.
I’m E.M. Serae, and this place is about to become something real. Right now it’s just a quiet blank space — the kind of page that feels like a breath you haven’t let out yet. But behind the curtain, I’m building, shaping, and trying to put