There exists a very strange tower within a very strange town. You'll probably never find it. Maybe you will, if you're lucky. (That is a lie, it's not a sign of luck to find the tower, please do not come looking for it.)
There is, however, another way to find it - something strange and potentially horrible just has to happen to you. You see, those stories always find the tower, some way or another. By mail, by milk carton, by wind, by fax. It doesn't matter. The Librarian collects them all - or rather, in light of recent events, I should say that he used to collect them. For he is incredibly dead.
There are a lot of demons in this world, and they can be damn hard to see. Have you been paying attention?
T. Tvedt has very little to his name, apart from a couple of unpublished books. In fact, experts were flabbergasted when Håkon Jarlsvik chose Tvedt to edit the biographical account of his career, but the very same experts calmed down significantly when they realised that Håkon Jarlsvik was simply a figment of Tvedt's imagination.
Tvedt has spent the better half of his 20s doing the following: writing, living in Berlin, and riding his bike while roaming the city without purpose. That being said, he has also achieved moderate success as a local eccentric and café regular. He thinks that's about it.
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