Welcome to Aynsley Court. I’m J. L., and I’ll be taking you through the hallowed halls where centuries of stories are etched in the walls, dying to be told with every groan of the floorboard.

In time, each room, corridor, and character will present themselves, exploring at first, then blooming with confidence. These short stories will weave in and out of each other, building characters—and the building—brick by brick.

A warning to those that enter: these walls hold trauma, but they will one day hold healing. A place rife with exploitation, now a safe haven. Over time, you’ll see The Court change its balance of power, from survival and submission to care and autonomy.

You’ve been invited inside the gates, to peek through windows, slink around corners, and plunge into the depths—as voyeurs.

These walls are brittle; they ask for grace. They will reveal themselves slowly and are not perfect. The stories they hold require trust and patience, not greed.

I’ll see you inside,
J. L.