Tales

“If you hold a piece of lightning wood in your right hand, special powers can be bestowed — for both healing and destruction. It takes a trained mind to recognize the difference between the two. Don’t EVER hold the wood in your left hand.”

In the witching hour, reality changes. Possibilities fan out like a beautiful flower. See, the mistake people make is assuming that hour is special, that things are solid in the else-time. Reality is — everything is a Rorschach.

I’m tired, I find myself thinking. It feels as though I’m half-passed dead. Turns out…I am. I have died. Not one of my selves. I. Have. Died. I: Is this the end? Silence fills my empty non-tomb. I hear footsteps, delicate and yet filled with power — a

“At the edge of the universe and at the center of your mind lies a bridge, a cosmic pathway hewn from stone and dark matter. Over the eons it has been called many names, but to those familiar with my work it is named: The Causeway. Very little is understood

Weird occurrences have become the norm in the not-so-quiet town of Harvest, Okla. The same town that endured the “llama incident” earlier this year has experienced yet another inexplicable phenomenon. Joni Evers, town resident and local mechanic, gives us her perspective on the event’s beginnings: “I first noticed something

Where I’m from we got a saying. We like to imagine we’re helpful folk with good hearts and givin’ souls. We do our best to light the way for those gone astray, but we got a saying, a [ONTOLOGY] we take seriously: We always lie to strangers.

I went up to the hills, beyond the constellations in the sky, to visit with the hill folk. I: I have a problem, hill folk, and I seek your guidance. Celestia: You’ve traveled a long way, Watcher. We’ll help if we can. I: I’ve lost my soul

"At the periphery of your attention is a crack. Most folk don’t even realize it’s there. What lies beyond? Other worlds? Nothing so…definite. There’s a saying about looking at the world through a keyhole. It’s something like that."

People always hide their true selves, mostly from themselves. It’s my job to bury them. But “what does that mean?” I wonder to my self more often than I’d care to admit. When travelers pass by me on the road, they avert their gaze and walk faster. I

0:00/1× Transcript: Girl: Mom... mom! Mommy! Mom: What is it honey? Girl: I can't find Spikey! Mom: You can't find Spikey? That won't do, let me take a look. Girl: I need Spikey! Mom: Here we are Girl: *Excited gasp* Spikey Mom: Everything better now? Girl: Yeah! I

Strange happenings continue to disquiet the small town of Harvest, Okla. Known for their high-quality corn exports and locally world-famous Papier-mâché Museum, the town has reportedly run afoul of unfortunate phenomena over the past year. The latest incident occurred last night in the cornfield on the west side of town.

I’ve been gone for a time, fellow travelers, wandering the aether. From irrational beginnings, we take our first steps into strange worlds. Pieces of ourselves can be found strewn about. We struggle for meaning. The journey continues… Meaning is a marathon. It is nurtured, found in fragments not wholes.

Choice 1 You awake suddenly. You lie prone on the cold ground. The integrity of your environment-suit’s seal seems sound. Your breath fogs the inside of your visor…or possibly it’s your mind that is foggy from whatever put you in an unconscious state. Gathering your bearings, you

“On the outskirts of the village sits a solitary Motel that is not, in fact, a Motel. Denizens should be wary of its allure. While answers can be found here, no one should, under any circumstances, reside or sleep within its walls.”

Andre Torres, a man who has been reported missing for nearly a week, has been found. He wandered out of the woods east of town where he was spotted by a local resident Saturday morning, who called in his appearance. Here is an excerpt from our interview with Andre: Interviewer: