The Literary Abyss is the name of the story I’m writing currently, along with a few others. Here is the prologue from the first draft. I haven’t done any editing yet. (The featured image doesn’t belong to me.)

Henrietta Hunter was reading a book. When she told this to anyone new she met, people thought that being a writer, she shouldn’t need to read, but to write, one must read. Hence, Henry snuggled in her blankets on the window seat, cradling her leather-bound classic, and sipping coffee, to the backdrop of the Autumn rain pattering against the window glass. Her bedroom was as she always loved it, neat, and dim. She was a classic, dark academia aesthetic type of person. Her bookshelves were full of classics and leather-bound books.

Henry flipped a page, and something caught the corner of her eye. She glanced at her mirror and froze. Maybe she was imagining it. Maybe she was hallucinating, because the mirror was glowing bright purple, and shimmering. She set down her book and coffee and got up. She walked to the mirror and touched it. She gasped and tried to withdraw, but something pulled her forward. She felt her insides ripping. Then everything went black.

~⭐~

Black. She opened her eyes. White. Nothing. Everything. She couldn’t understand where she was. A sound. She tried to turn her head… but realised she was lying down. She tried to get up. The floor was as white as her surroundings. She didn’t know which direction was which, or where the light was coming from. A growl. She turned around. There was nothing there. She walked forward. She thought she moved but nothing changed. She felt like she was falling. Then, darkness.

~⭐~

She removed her hand from the mirror, and shook her head. I must’ve imagined it, she thought. She went back her window seat and continued reading.

~~~