Tales

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

The dead man began his story: “Once there was a man named Sisyphus who kept a beautiful farm, full of fertile, black soil (this was after he had decided to let the boulder roll away long ago). As he expanded his land, he excavated a beautiful assortment of statues made

The Grave-Keeper reached down and pulled the dead man from his grave — the grave they had just dug for him. The dead man brushed the neutrinos off his vest and spoke, even though his jaw was unhinged on one side. “Thanks for that. Though, I suppose it was your fault

The Grave-Keeper dangled their arm out a window in the not-car. Solar winds brushed against their face as they pushed the pedal to the floor. It had been some time since they’d cruised the Celestial Highway, a long time since they’d made time just for themself. The Highway

“I climbed what seemed an endless staircase and, right when I was about to give up, found myself atop the lighthouse. I’m not sure what I expected to see, for a thick fog obscured anything further than a few feet from my face. I watched as the rotating spotlight

If one achieves Oneness, all achieve Oneness. If one goes astray, all go astray.