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“Where are my smoking glasses?”
“I’m going blind,” I told my wife when we moved to our new gothic-style home in Griswold on a breezy day in early April. It was a wedding gift from my estranged father —a beautiful two-story structure with pointed arches, board-and-batten siding, large stained-glass windows, and a steep-pitched roof that gave the illusion of a medieval tower. Before my gradual onset of blindness, Samantha and I loved looking at homes from this era. Now, our beautiful new home was a blur, another milestone I…
They were outcasts once, in the old days; The Silent Kings. That’s what all the old-timers heard from their old-timers, anyway. They were Sin Eaters. Mute Sin Eaters. Mute from trauma, according to most. The three of them were brothers, orphaned together when they accidentally set their mother on fire. The legends don’t record the details of exactly how that went down, but the boys were so traumatized not just from witnessing their mother’s fiery demise, but also being the cause of it, that…
Chapter 6: Face of the Forgotten He pressed forward with his claymore resting on his shoulder, leaving bloody footprints behind him. His feet regrew the muscles and skin with every step he took further into the labyrinth. Requiem walked through the labyrinth that took the shape of a dungeon. Every room he passed was vacant as he progressed through the torchless hallway that seemed to have no end.
I’m sure you all have heard the tales about the trucker who was driving late at night and stopped to pick up a woman on the side of the road and the woman turns out to be a ghost. Right? Well, I’ve got a story for you that trumps that one.
11:30 am. Dreary. Heartburn. Brain ache. Tired eyes giving way to a dull throbbing, but never drifting closed. We sat in silence around our monitors and typed, when suddenly, the office room silence was pierced by Lola’s break alarm. It blared its flat, electronic tone on repeat a few times until she stood up from her chair.
I should have chosen speechlore, I thought as another gust of wind whipped snow under my hood. Folklore would have been an excellent choice as well. Perhaps mathematics, or meteorology. Only a few months ago, I had been more than content with my specialization. After several weeks in the frozen monotony of the Asundrian wilderness, however, even the history of Hishan arts struck me as far more appealing.
My stomach rumbled as we approached the edge of the woods. It was nearly midday, but I hadn't eaten in hours. Supply troubles and nerves had left me with little food and next to no appetite. A combination that was less than ideal heading into my first taste of combat.
As I wandered through the park once more, walking towards the circus, I could feel a sense of dread boiling from within me, it felt as if a thousand eyes were watching me, staring into the back of my soul as I wandered towards what felt like certain doom, the feeling of fear and despair only growing as I saw the big top tent in the distance, and saw the abandoned trailers that seemed to surround me from all sides, with crates and hay bales stacked against them. I could feel myself shaking as I…
People who have never had to do it seem to think it’s unfortunate to have to work in a diner. I didn’t think so when I worked there. At least it wasn't unfortunate at first. I had a lot of fun working there because the people I worked with were great and our customers were very nice. It’s a small town, so usually the people are pretty nice compared to the city folk who stop in from time to time.
Every school has their little weirdos. Some more than others, but us weirdos gotta stick together. Back in the fifth grade my buddy Tim got a lot of shit. Not like the kid dressed weird or anything, but he was just the kid that had a target on his back. We'd be out in the field flying around in space ships or fighting off a mob of samurai. He was the best at playing swords and stuff though.
There was a new payphone in town, at least if you believe what some anonymous conspiracy theorist had posted on the internet. Someone on the local paranormal forum had posted photos of a payphone which, to be fair, was in fairly decent condition, and they had insisted it had been installed recently. More likely than not, it had been there for decades, and neither the poster nor anyone else had noticed it until recently. I’m pretty sure the only people who pay those things any mind anymore are…
Ever since the caravan had reached the Unamur Mountains, the climate had become as irksome as the company I kept. Every day, a disgusting heat came with sunrise. Cool days were also rare in Dishare, therefore I hadn't expected it would bother me when I set out on this journey. However, I soon learned that the mountainous stretch of the Cursed Road was plagued by a different kind of heat; dry and draining. The silken canopy of my palanquin could as well not have been there as the little shade it…
As I sat on my couch watching a movie on the television, I found it difficult to concentrate. The noisy neighbors upstairs were at it again. I’m not sure exactly what they were doing, whether they were moving furniture, playing football, or tag. Who knows? All I know is that it was a considerable amount of noise and it needed to stop. My roommate mini came out of her room, frustrated, “Uggh!” she exclaimed, “They’re at it again?”
Deep in the core of a dull, lightless city, a man sat alone by a fire. He didn’t know how long the world had been like this, he didn’t remember what it was like before, He only knew that he woke up to this one day. From what he could remember, Just faintly in the back of his mind, the world used to be filled with other people, other faces, but after days of wandering, months of searching, there was no familiar face to see. For now, the only company he had was the fire, and a few cans of beans…
Chapter 5: Devoured by the Sands of Time Requiem rested his claymore against his shoulder before walking over to the crumbled beast. He scanned the chamber to see a vast emptiness accompanied by the mountain of corpses and himself. Requiem turned to the mountain seeing it was his only path.
When you own and run a gas station out in the middle of nowhere, you’ll often meet more than your fair share of oddballs. Nobody ever travels to little towns like mine, just through them, our paths only crossing out of sheer necessity and circumstance. For most folk, my gas station is what the internet likes to call a ‘liminal space’; a transitional zone that becomes creepy when you dwell in it for too long. But for me, it’s the exact opposite. My gas station’s an anchor against the backdrop of…
This story happened to me, my best friend, Alya, and one of our friends, Dylan. Please note that every name used here, including mine, is fake. They are made-up names to protect the real people.
There is a legend that few people know about. If you stand in front of the mirror, in the dark, with a single candle lit, and issue the call, “Here piggy, piggy, piggy.” The big man will appear. When the pig man appears, you must remain absolutely still, or the pig man will devour you in minutes.
In hindsight, this story is pretty embarrassing but hear me out. It’s not easy being the new kid who just moved to town in the middle of the school year. It didn’t help that this place was practically the middle of nowhere, the only restaurants being a mom and pop diner and a Taco Bell that was attached to a gas station. I nearly cried when I looked up how far away the nearest music venue was; an hour and a half, and they only showcased country bands. I’ve never had a knack for fitting in, and…
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