“I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.” -Charles Bauldelaire I turned in horror at the tent as I watched The Rot transform, I could see something rising from the tent, pulling it apart as it emerged, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. I froze in place as it moved, every feature, every detail, the massive beast was so impossible, so broken, that all my body was screaming to do was run. The Rot had become a large, bulky creature, with a look of pure malice and hatred in its eyes as it looked towards me.…

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 they never spoke again. No one spoke to them, either. They were pariahs after that. Accident or not, being responsible for the death of your own mother, especially in such a ghastly manner, will make people…

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 moved forwards, moving closer to the tent. but then I stopped. Looking closely, lying on top of one of the crates, was a rusted, old…

I tried not to panic as I watched The Rot lurch up from the ground, hobbling as it began to search for me, its mouth twitching and its bones cracking as it moved, it limped and crawled around, occasionally taking a second or two to sniff the air. Slowly, it spoke, its voice still loud and deafening. “Where are yooooou?” It called, tauntingly, I could hear it chuckling as it searched. “Jonaaaaaah…” I slowly navigated to the exit of the warehouse, reaching for the exit and… “THERE YOU ARE!”  shouted The Rot, charging at a speed I didn’t know was possible. I was barely able to shut the door as The Rot slammed into it, each time stronger than the…

They say that only the truly desperate would invite the Devil for dinner. Not because of the meal itself, but because the entire ritual is a gamble—a dangerous game where the stakes are your very soul. If you play it right, though, there’s a chance you can walk away with exactly what you desire. The trick is in the details. First, you must prepare a meal yourself—homemade and crafted with care. The Devil despises laziness. This dish will be your offering, and it must be perfect. Set your table for two with your finest plates, silverware, and a single candle in the center. Most importantly, place a sharp knife next to your own plate. Across from you, an empty chair…

They say that only the truly desperate would invite the Devil for dinner. Not because of the meal itself, but because the entire ritual is a gamble—a dangerous game where the stakes are your very soul. If you play it right, though, there’s a chance you can walk away with exactly what you desire. The trick is in the details. First, you must prepare a meal yourself—homemade and crafted with care. The Devil despises laziness. This dish will be your offering, and it must be perfect. Set your table for two with your finest plates, silverware, and a single candle in the center. Most importantly, place a sharp knife next to your own plate. Across from you, an empty chair…

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 they never spoke again. No one spoke to them, either. They were pariahs after that. Accident or not, being responsible for the death of your own mother, especially in such a ghastly manner, will make people…

I tried not to panic as I watched The Rot lurch up from the ground, hobbling as it began to search for me, its mouth twitching and its bones cracking as it moved, it limped and crawled around, occasionally taking a second or two to sniff the air. Slowly, it spoke, its voice still loud and deafening. “Where are yooooou?” It called, tauntingly, I could hear it chuckling as it searched. “Jonaaaaaah…” I slowly navigated to the exit of the warehouse, reaching for the exit and… “THERE YOU ARE!”  shouted The Rot, charging at a speed I didn’t know was possible. I was barely able to shut the door as The Rot slammed into it, each time stronger than the…

“I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.” -Charles Bauldelaire I turned in horror at the tent as I watched The Rot transform, I could see something rising from the tent, pulling it apart as it emerged, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. I froze in place as it moved, every feature, every detail, the massive beast was so impossible, so broken, that all my body was screaming to do was run. The Rot had become a large, bulky creature, with a look of pure malice and hatred in its eyes as it looked towards me.…

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 moved forwards, moving closer to the tent. but then I stopped. Looking closely, lying on top of one of the crates, was a rusted, old…

They say that only the truly desperate would invite the Devil for dinner. Not because of the meal itself, but because the entire ritual is a gamble—a dangerous game where the stakes are your very soul. If you play it right, though, there’s a chance you can walk away with exactly what you desire. The trick is in the details. First, you must prepare a meal yourself—homemade and crafted with care. The Devil despises laziness. This dish will be your offering, and it must be perfect. Set your table for two with your finest plates, silverware, and a single candle in the center. Most importantly, place a sharp knife next to your own plate. Across from you, an empty chair…

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 they never spoke again. No one spoke to them, either. They were pariahs after that. Accident or not, being responsible for the death of your own mother, especially in such a ghastly manner, will make people…

“I consider it useless and tedious to represent what exists, because nothing that exists satisfies me. Nature is ugly, and I prefer the monsters of my fancy to what is positively trivial.” -Charles Bauldelaire I turned in horror at the tent as I watched The Rot transform, I could see something rising from the tent, pulling it apart as it emerged, like a butterfly from a chrysalis. I froze in place as it moved, every feature, every detail, the massive beast was so impossible, so broken, that all my body was screaming to do was run. The Rot had become a large, bulky creature, with a look of pure malice and hatred in its eyes as it looked towards me.…

I tried not to panic as I watched The Rot lurch up from the ground, hobbling as it began to search for me, its mouth twitching and its bones cracking as it moved, it limped and crawled around, occasionally taking a second or two to sniff the air. Slowly, it spoke, its voice still loud and deafening. “Where are yooooou?” It called, tauntingly, I could hear it chuckling as it searched. “Jonaaaaaah…” I slowly navigated to the exit of the warehouse, reaching for the exit and… “THERE YOU ARE!”  shouted The Rot, charging at a speed I didn’t know was possible. I was barely able to shut the door as The Rot slammed into it, each time stronger than the…

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 moved forwards, moving closer to the tent. but then I stopped. Looking closely, lying on top of one of the crates, was a rusted, old…