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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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The Twisting Beech releases new stories every fortnight. You can browse the back catalogue or sign up to get them straight to your inbox.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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Tales from Silverdammen
From the Authors of the Twisting Beech
James often regretted learning to identify his emotions. It had been part of a project of self-improvement he’d undertaken in his early twenties. He regretted many of his self-improvement projects over the years. Primary candidates included his teenage experiments with different hand-writing styles, which had left him with him a variety of hands to rival a professional fraudster, and his late twenties passion for haute cuisine and gourmet cookery classes, which had only served to make most of the food he ate at his parents house, at friends’ dinner parties, and at the mediocre restaurants he could actually afford, practically inedible.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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So why am I not happy?
By T.E. Fors
In the waiting room of a therapist’s office sits a man and a woman. The man is tall, gaunt with long grey hair and a widow’s peak. His impressive height dwarfs the room’s perfectly ordinary sized furniture, and his voluminous black cloak makes him look like a large bat in a doll’s house.
The door to the therapist’s office opens.
“Mr… Theobald the Dark Warlock of Doomcleft Castle?” calls the pleasant, professional-looking opener of the door.
“Yes, that’s me.” Theobald the Dark Warlock of Doomcleft Castle stands up, unsure of the protocol.
“Good morning! I’m Dr. Joyce Hannigan. Right this way, Mr. Dark Warlock of Doomcleft Castle.” Dr. Hannigan motions for him to enter the office. Theobald almost has to duck in order to not hit his head on the doorframe.
“Dark Warlock is fine.”
“Alright, Mr. Dark Warlock. Please have a seat.” Dr. Hannigan invites him to sit down on a sober blue couch.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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The Accountant
Chapter 2 - by Disa Larson
Sylvie was a striking woman. She was tall and slim and had legs that some would say “went on for days”, but of course started at the bottom of her torso and ended just above her feet. Her flowing auburn hair and emerald eyes would perhaps bring a certain homewrecking Jolene to mind. Sylvie resented that comparison and sulked every time someone joked about it.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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The Seven Surroundings
“Welcome, Mr Blake. This is Dr Singh, and I’m Dr Bartholomew. May you always reach your potential.”
“And you, yours,” I replied politely.
I wasn’t quite sure why I’d been asked to come to the Department of Talent Direction that day, but you don’t ignore a stand-up request from the government.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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Festigirl
By Louise Fischer
2.2. Written testimony of Eleanor Parkinson, festivalgoer, believed to have met – and escaped – an encounter with the dancing girl in 2015.
It was actually months later when I realised that she hadn’t come along with any of our group. We were sitting in the pub, reminiscing about the festival, when my friend Charlie started interrogating me about disappearing with her all weekend. Long story short, I thought she’d come as a friend of his mate Lucy, but Charlie swore she hadn’t come with any of his lot. Then we started asking everyone with us at the pub, and on the group chat, and it turned out no one knew her from before the festival. That’s when we set up the Facebook page trying to find her. We were a bit drunk, hence the title. [Note for reader: the page was called ‘WHO IS SHE??? FUN DANCING GIRL AT *redacted* FESTIVAL’].
And I guess that’s how you guys found me. I’m happy to write everything I remember about her, but I do wonder a bit if you might be barking up the wrong tree here. She was lovely. I can’t imagine her hurting anyone. Bit intense, maybe… but anyway. That’s up to you.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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Driving Snow
By Lukas Enaker
Have you ever driven alone on a cold winter’s night, down a deserted road, in the middle of nowhere? If not, let me paint you a picture: only your own headlights light your way. If it’s a clear night, they’ll be aided in their mission by the stars and the pale winter moon. If you’re really lucky, the northern lights will make a guest appearance. To the sides of the road, the dense darkness of ancient, needled giants dusted with snow absorb any stray rays of light. The world is reduced to this endless corridor: road ahead, sleeping forest to both sides, infinite starry void above.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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A Decent Crossing Place
By Quinn MacDonald
It benefited from a good downpour, this kind of work. You didn’t want some kid out walking their dog to stumble into the circle. Not, thought Hanging, huffing to himself slightly, that kids walked dogs anymore. They just sat inside, staring at their television sets, or even worse, at those little wireless telephones they had all started carrying around. Bloody ki–
“Brother!”
Hanging slowed his pace but did not stop, feeling that Little would catch up soon enough. A final jogging hop and she was there, matching his stride, bumping his arm slightly in greeting.  
“You could have waited, Hangs.”
“I did wait, Little. For fifteen minutes. By the stile. Where we said we’d meet.”
“Did you France! I was definitely there by quarter past. Ten past at the latest.”
Hanging fixed her with as withering a glance as he could manage with rain dripping off his nose.
“Alright, maybe it was sixteen past,” she said, grinning, slipping an arm into his. Hanging slowed down slightly, letting their steps fall into the same rhythm.
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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The Askholm Binder
By Disa Larson
“Alright Mrs. Mits, I see some inconsistencies in your books. Let’s see, here and… here, and then about ten more times in July. From then on they pop up pretty frequently up until the end of this quarter. Can you tell me what happened there?” Kelly reached across her desk and pointed at the offending numbers with her pen.
Mrs. Mits pushed her violet plastic-rimmed glasses up and leaned over the handwritten revenue reports of Mits’ Mitts for Pups and Kits.
“Hmm, they don’t look like anything to me, dear…” The older woman looked up at Kelly, “That’s what I have you for, isn’t it?”
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twistingbeechnation · 3 years
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