Arthur M. Bering

New York City, 1980: Giuseppe Russo sat in his small city apartment. It felt no larger than a jail cell, but had just about everything he ever dreamt of. His bed sat in a window nook on the right wall across from the entrance. Two bookshelves sat on both ends of his bed.

It wasn’t hard to imagine why it was called The Forsaken Coast. The bleak coastline was mainly miles and miles of high, jagged clifftops with no natural harbours, scarcely a living tree to be seen, with the silhouettes of long-abandoned and eroding megaliths standing deathly still in the shadowy gloom. Yet amidst the ruins, a lonely Cimmerian castle still remained, and the eerie green flames flickering within broadcast to all that it was not abandoned.

I'll never forget the summer of 1998, or the encounters I shared with my classmates. When I was ten years old, just two weeks into the beginning of the school year, the entire fifth grade was taken on a special week-long camping trip to 'Camp High Hope' in Indiana. Being ten years old, the idea of spending a week away from home, without any parents or siblings, just friends and the other kids from school, was one of the coolest experiences you could ever hope for as a child.

Emily’s sightseeing expedition through Avalon included a trip to some of the notable local historical landmarks and the remains of an ancient Celtic settlement - one of many dotting the area surrounding our new home. ‘This town has a lot of history,’ Emily told me as we trudged past a pair of standing stones. They stood facing one another on either side of the road running to the left of us. ‘I’ve been reading up about it at the library. It's quite the rabbit hole to dive into.’

I was never one for superstitions, but the events of the last few months have drastically changed my outlook on the cosmic forces at work in this world. It began last year when my best friend Lonzo and I had decided we had enough of our lives in South Florida and both pursued new careers in beautiful Butte, Montana. We had been friends since we were kids, and neither of us was happy with where our careers were at age 25, me a substitute teacher in the Miami-Dade Public System and Lonzo working…

Curiosity isn’t always a good thing. I once thought discovering everything the world had to offer was my true passion. It turns out though some things are best left alone.

I’d lived my whole life in the small, idyllic farming town of Harvest Hill, where the annual pumpkin festival is more than just an event; it’s a cherished tradition that brings the entire community together. Every fall, the townsfolk gather in the town square, surrounded by the glowing red and yellow of autumn leaves, to celebrate the season’s bounty and compete for the coveted title of the largest pumpkin. For years, I had dreamed of winning that prize, but this year my hopes were higher than…

Have you ever heard of the Grand Circus of Mysteries? You can recognize us by the large banner set up over the entrance; a circular sign with several slightly faded looking clowns, magicians, leaping acrobats and other exotically dressed performers decorating its length. A large, open circus tent sits in the background with the entrance lit up in yellow, and the name of the circus is printed out in bold and stylised letters in a semicircle above the scene. The sign is over fifty years old and…

The first time I visited the Otherworld was when I was eleven. One moment I’d been having some peaceful dream I hardly remember, and the next, I was shooting up in bed with a gasp. I pulled my blanket tighter around myself as I looked around uneasily.