I tried to join in for Spooktober last year in 2021, but I quickly ran out of "spoons" and had to scrap it in favor of prepping for WorldEmber. This year, I'm going to take it easy and not try to overcommit myself! I'm planning short articles, maybe some smashed together art, some poetry, and a few little horror stories!
I already have a few thoughts banging together in my head, so let's see where this takes us!
A gallery of portraits of famous singers throughout the years. These sirens burned brightly on the stage. They all died at twenty-seven.
That Shatter the Pit filled with teeth and tentacles and one unblinking eye. Wails of anguish rose in the Zone as the parents realized that every child had vanished.
The largest most beautiful home in the city stands silent and abandoned. No one has entered or left in decades, but the lights still turn on at night.
The low seismic song rumbles your guts. The swamp lights call out. They enchant those fools who travel alone.
Some poor children just get lost. They go through the wrong door at the wrong time. How will they find their way home?
The starkly lit Gray Chasm rises into infinity and descends into nothingness. To escape, you must find the light, but it always retreats around the next bend.
They say that blood berries are the sweetest, but their thorns are also the sharpest.
The vertex lycans fractured howl bleeds in from other dimensions than ours. We only see some of the beast, we cannot comprehend it's totality.
The lost children sometimes appear in the mirrors, their backs turned to the unfortunate. No one has seen them turn around.
On the third day of the week, the mists of the Shadowfell push against the Pit Wall. They long to enter our world, but by Treaty, they cannot.
Our Shattered Moon no longer shines alone in the night. It's siblings finally rise from the depths of myth.
The locks on the Kirinal River can hold back almost anything. A river of fire, a tsunami of blood, a plague of oozes; the elves are always prepared.
A gate in space locks away our little system of worlds. Elder evils lurk outside, pressing against the door, waiting to enter.
When the light hits the wall just so, you can see them reaching out. Their hunger is unending. But we still have lives to lead.
There is a painting of shadows and light that demands your attention. It wants you to own it. It wants to possess you back.
The hunters of House Lapin ride motorcycles in pursuit of their prey.
Night or day, a beam of Verti-cal Light always illuminates the spot where he drowned.