Tales

Antwohnette… the name sounds so familiar, like the memory of dream you can’t remember. The young woman’s extended hand emerges from shadow, a harsh line of darkness slicing across her wrist. “Caliban, come. We’re looking for a new home. I think we may have found it.” Home.

Caliban slinks through nighttime city streets — a warped facsimile of Greenwich Village. He stands a full story high, only remaining concealed due to his black fur which seems to absorb any light that touches his frame. How did he get here? Was he supposed to be this large? Wasn’t

We now turn our attention to western Oklahoma, to the small town of Harvest. Something catches my senses… a storm is rolling in. An intruder approaches. Something important is about to happen. Let’s hold here for a moment and see what transpires… We are thrilled to officially announce The

The setting sun glints through the windows of the Dino Station. The door opens. A rush of sound and air sweeps in — behind the counter, Claire Crowley senses a coming storm. Harvey Jones, a regular, stands slack-jawed in front of her. Something had happened. Something was wrong.

No one knows from whence this baleful being came, nor what his true name might be. What we do know is this “man” travels with sinister intent. Eye-witnesses have described him as “sharply-dressed” in a three-piece suit, his barren skull often adorned with a porkpie hat. Facts about the creature

Deep in the hollows, Arka goes deeper. From the looks of everything, she suspects no Stone Dweller has walked these paths since the time of her ancient ancestors. At first, it’s nothing but a faint breeze. As Arka steps to the mouth of a pitch-black cave, the breeze becomes

Arka almost loses her footing but catches herself at the last second. Her hoofed feet scramble back to solid rock as loose pebbles tumble into darkness below. The long journey from Hornswatch had made Arka question the wisdom of her excursion more than once — but now that she was here,

Thick foliage surrounds a lone power pole in a forest clearing. Vines of ivy hug the pole tight from bottom to top. A dozen different lines stretch out in half a dozen directions — deep into the forest. At a foot higher than an average head-height hangs a sign. It has

Silence blankets the woods on my northeasterly face. The wind has left. The trees sleep. The animals cease to exist. In the dead of night, the crescent moon gleams off the clouds — with this celestial light, a tune comes. At first, it is nothing but a note. But it grows…

A small bell affixed above the door clinks as the Grave-Keeper takes their first step into Oz’s Diner. It’s late, and the establishment is sparsely populated. The Grave-Keeper is disguised, their hood pulled up over their head; no need to worry about the humans seeing their true face.

Arianna: You think Achilles was a real person? Jasmine: Achilles? Arianna: You know… pouty, moody, bad ass, Hector-killing Achilles. Jasmine: That’s just a myth. You know that’s not real. Arianna: I like to think all myths come from something real, even if those things aren’t, well, real.

What makes a Leviathan scary is not simply its size. Many things can be large without eliciting fear. And it’s not simply that one could gobble you up in one bite, oh no. Being eaten is terrifying in its own way (digested, doubly so), but no, that alone is

Choice 1 You stand before a massive body of water: a great lake. The sky is overcast and everything is so misty around you that you can only see about thirty yards in any direction. Behind you, a dense coniferous tree-line forms an ominous barrier. You remove your shoes. You

“Is there some point you’re trying to make?” the Grave-Keeper asked, now fully regretting having pulled over to attend to the dead man. “All stories have points to make, but what point I’ve made is up to you to make sense of — or don’t, I don’t