These are not stories. They are echoes. Stories born from neighborhoods, myths, memories, and the things we refuse to name until it’s too late.
Browse carefully. Some of these worlds are still watching.
Urban Horror
Myth & Folklore
Found Documents
Part II The Heir of Iron & Ash
The Thing Beneath the Threshold The first nosebleed happened at breakfast. Not a dramatic one. Not horror-movie red flooding the table. Just a slow, steady drip from Glen’s brother’s face into a bowl of Frosted Flakes while the milk turned…
The Heir of Iron & Ash
The Freak Accident It started the week after Granddaddy died. They called it a freak accident. That’s what grown folks say when something ugly refuses to fit inside a clean sentence. They said a junkie got too heated over a…
The Second-Hand Son
The coffee in Park Trails tastes like battery acid and broken dreams. It’s the kind of suburb where the silence doesn’t feel peaceful; it feels like a collective holding of breath. Usually, the biggest scandal around here is a dispute…
The Story Monster 