“Samantha?” I heard Rosalyn ask hopefully as she picked up the phone. I was calling her because she had recently come across an anomalous VHS tape of a man burying a premonition he had written down in my cemetery, convinced that it would one day be of great value to me. She had showed it to me, and I had of course agreed to see if I could find it. “Hi, Rose. Yeah, it’s me,” I replied, unable to hide my disappointment. “I dug around in the area where the guy buried his time capsule, and I couldn’t find anything. Whoever picked up and turned off the camera at the end of the video must have taken the time capsule…

“Well girls, which car should we take on our little road trip? Dad’s Chevy Nomad would be practical, but the Chevy Nova’s got a bit more flair to her. Of course, if it’s flair we’re going for, I don’t think anything we have can compete with a classic Cadillac,” James Darling said as he surveyed his automotive fleet with a sense of satisfied pride. The Darlings had acquired many vehicles over their long and nefarious career, more often than not stolen from their victims and repurposed into future instruments of entrapment and torment. James had kept their favourites running flawlessly over the years, modifying them as necessary with his own mechatronic inventions when conventional parts simply wouldn’t do. “That’s a…

I had never had Christmas Carollers in my neighbourhood before. I think it’s one of those bygone traditions that have survived more in pop culture than actual practice. I never doubted that people still do it somewhere, sometimes, but I’ve never seen it happen in person and never really thought much of it. But on the last winter solstice, I finally heard a roving choir outside my window. I don’t think that it was mere happenstance that it was on the winter solstice and not Christmas. You probably know that Yuletide celebrations long predate Christianity, and for that matter, they predate the pagan traditions that Christmas is based on. Regardless of their history or accumulated traditions and associations, all wintertime…

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Brandon? It’s payday!” my veteran colleague Vinson asked as the rusty freight elevator noisily rattled its way up towards the penthouse suite. For the past year or two – I’m honestly not sure how long it’s been, actually – I’ve been under contract for an otherworldly masked Lord who calls himself Ignazio di Incognauta. He’s not a demon, exactly. He’s closer to Fae, I think, but I don’t fully understand what he is. I never sought him out. He came to me. I asked him how he even knew who I was, and he slapped me across the face for my insolence. I still signed up though. That’s how desperate I was.…

I’ve been a security guard at Somatic Self Storage for a few years now. I’d lost my previous job due to the first round of Covid lockdowns, and at the time, getting hired here seemed like a godsend. It pays more than double the average rate for a security guard around here, despite it otherwise being a pretty standard job. The only catch was that I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement regarding exactly what it was we were keeping in storage. Maybe I was naïve to think that nothing nefarious was going on, or maybe I’m just a selfish prick who was persuaded to turn a blind eye for a few extra dollars, but up until recently, I honestly…