Aug 27, 2026 · 37 min · 5 segments
**The Study of Quiet Things is a serialised gothic folk-horror mystery, written & narrated by Harriet Loveluck.** Sophie Hamilton's twin is missing, and the last trace of her leads to a crumbling…
The branches curve from one side to the other, joining in the middle overhead like a sternum of a ribcage, the black sky locked behind.
Or, perhaps, Sophie considers, she is locked inside, her footsteps the beating heart.
Have you noticed? Sophie begins, observing the trees still clinging to their autumn leaves.
Everywhere else looks like winter.
This is the only place that still shows signs of autumn.
Not that unusual, Kai suggests, matter of fact.
It's less exposed here, in the valley.
It's protected in its depression.
Sophie nods.
She wonders if this is true of humans as well as geological studies.
She wonders if depression is a way to protect the soul from the onslaught of turbulent emotions that storm and bluster, leaving the person less exposed to the world outside.
For a brief moment, a thought sneaks through her mind.
A possibility that Jessica was protecting herself from the outside world, with her insatiable lust for life and love and laughter.
A bright facade, a cheerful veneer, while deep inside, winter grasped.
But this is a fleeting thought, because to believe this would to believe the coroner, and Sophie doesn't believe.
Doesn't want to believe, she reminds herself.
On the canvas of her mind, she sees Jessica's face on the gurney and it morphs to Rhian's, to the girl called Carish she saw on the news this morning.
But what she really sees... is a connection.
Part of a Frankenstein puzzle with the pieces missing.
She is still thinking of her resolve to find those missing pieces when they round the corner, exposing the coach house in its entirety.
Whoa! Sophie stops like hell breath.
The coach house is majestic.
far exceeding the beauty and grandeur of Carmen's London home with a devil's-eye door.
And it's different.
Different from the other houses she's seen in the desolate and impoverished town of Llangollen.
The branches curve from one side to the other, joining in the middle overhead like a sternum of a ribcage, the black sky locked behind.
Or, perhaps, Sophie considers, she is locked inside, her footsteps the beating heart.
Have you noticed? Sophie begins, observing the trees still clinging to their autumn leaves.
Everywhere else looks like winter.
This is the only place that still shows signs of autumn.
Not that unusual, Kai suggests, matter of fact.
It's less exposed here, in the valley.
It's protected in its depression.
Sophie nods.
She wonders if this is true of humans as well as geological studies.
She wonders if depression is a way to protect the soul from the onslaught of turbulent emotions that storm and bluster, leaving the person less exposed to the world outside.
For a brief moment, a thought sneaks through her mind.
A possibility that Jessica was protecting herself from the outside world, with her insatiable lust for life and love and laughter.
A bright facade, a cheerful veneer, while deep inside, winter grasped.
But this is a fleeting thought, because to believe this would to believe the coroner, and Sophie doesn't believe.
Doesn't want to believe, she reminds herself.
On the canvas of her mind, she sees Jessica's face on the gurney and it morphs to Rhian's, to the girl called Carish she saw on the news this morning.
But what she really sees... is a connection.
Part of a Frankenstein puzzle with the pieces missing.
She is still thinking of her resolve to find those missing pieces when they round the corner, exposing the coach house in its entirety.
Whoa! Sophie stops like hell breath.
The coach house is majestic.
far exceeding the beauty and grandeur of Carmen's London home with a devil's-eye door.
And it's different.
Different from the other houses she's seen in the desolate and impoverished town of Llangollen.
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