Fiction and Stories

The house had fallen silent.
Somewhere in the distance, a dog howled into the night. A thin veil of fog had settled over the village, blurring the faint lights that still burned in a few houses.

It was six in the morning. For the third consecutive day, he was preparing to go to bed. Outside his bedroom, the world was waking up. Doors opened and closed. Water ran in the bathroom. Someone was making tea in the kitchen. Another person was searching for his car keys. And here he was, ready …

For as long as Sanna could remember, her favorite place in the house had been the front door.