Woolcraft (Eira Woolcott, M/F)
It was a decision that I made purely on a whim. I had been stuck in a rut, unable to make any meaningful headway on my novel for months on end. One would think this would have been a golden opportunity to write, as a plague from Spain had forced much of the city’s populace to remain quarantined in their flats. Yet, the bleakness of the situation had only worsened my desire to do anything productive. With how the radio broadcasts were describing the world outside, what good would finishing my book be if there was no one left alive to read it? A letter had arrived not too long ago from a fellow author, who I will refer to as Ray. He too, had given up on the literary arts, but instead of wallowing in defeat like myself, Ray found a new obsession; the occult. Ignoring curfew, fanatics like him would flock to secret meeting spots not just to obtain some much-needed socialization in these trying times, but also to indulge in the latest trend of obscure religious worship. Natura