#horror short story collection

[flameswallower]

Did you know??? My FIRST FULL LENGTH SHORT STORY COLLECTION is coming in January! You can pre-order it today! (Or do it here, or here, or here, or here.)

The cover art is by Sadia Bies. They also did the cover art for The False Sister!

Anyway, I got so excited about the release of Lupus In Fabula that I made a playlist. Listen for a glimpse into the mood, tone, and thematic content you can expect to discover within these stories!

[lostreverb]

Haiii I love you and your Warren stuff, I absolutely require more but I have no ideas to ask you to write ^^"

-Duckie 💜

please please please (short n' sweet)

(warren lipka x fem!reader) in where you swear you have good taste in lovers, but your new boyfriend makes everyone think otherwise (wc: ~3.2k) (this fic is a part of my short n' sweet collection!)

content: fluff, angst, established relationship, swearing, drugs (weed), nsfw actions implied

note: ILYT THANK YOU for the request!! (so so sorry this took so long!) also using a song about barry keoghan to write about a movie he was in just feels so good to my brain idk. (also ermm... UK is supposed to be the university of kentucky idk if ppl call it that just go with it)

__

the dim light of the living room provided a warm atmosphere for the party you (somewhat) spontaneously decided to attend. your girlfriends had been pestering you to go out recently and you figured coming along this time would get them off your back, at least for a bit. you and your two closest friends lounged on plush couches, drinks in hand. as you sat, listening rather than speaking, your friend marissa’s voice cut through the chatter. the walls seemed to close in when she asked the question you had been dreading:

"so who's this guy you're dating again?"

"uhm... he-" you shifted in your seat, feeling your unease gradually intensify. "he goes to UK.."

another friend, cleo, who sat further down on the couch, leaned forward with a laugh. "come on, girl," she teased. "why is this like pulling teeth with you? stop being so vague and just spit it out."

typically, you'd never be one to hide information about a guy you're dating from the girls but you knew how they were gonna react. you had been avoiding the topic for weeks.

"cause' i know y'all don't like him!" you snapped. "y'all don't like him and i honestly don't want to be lectured-"

"we're not gonna lecture you-" marissa interrupted, her voice softening, trying to reassure you.

"how could we not like him if we don't even know him?" cleo added.

you rolled your eyes. your friends, as sweet as they were, could be very blunt with their opinions on guys. especially ones you dated. sure, your last ex did end up hooking up with his overly flirty biochemistry lab partner, but that wasn’t until after you broke up. a week after, to be exact—but still, it wasn’t like he cheated. and the one before that, the one with a slight drinking problem, couldn't really help it. addiction ran in his family (that's what he told you at least) plus he was irish! who were you to deny him participation in his culture? your friends couldn't be right about everything and you certainly didn't want to entertain the thought they could be right about-

"warren? warren fucking lipka?"

you felt your face heat up at marissa's reaction.

"yes, warren… lipka," you murmured, feeling the air grow heavy as their disapproving stares settled on you. this felt so much worse than how you’d imagined it in your head.

"deals-weed-and-sells-burner-phones-out-of-his-dorm warren?" marissa asked in disbelief.

"didn't he just break the record for most yellow cards in a single season?" cleo added, one eyebrow arched in skepticism.

"he doesn’t deal anymore—and he’s going through some stuff," you huffed, frustration bubbling up as you tried to defend him. warren had never really loved soccer, and after losing all respect for his father following his parents' messy divorce, he’d grown to despise the sport. as for dealing, you’d convinced him to stop after a close call with the cops. besides, he couldn’t stop getting high off his own supply.

"y/n, don’t take this the wrong way… we just don’t want to see you get hurt again," marissa said gently, her voice full of concern.

"or end up as a pothead," cleo chimed in, more bluntly. "you… haven’t smoked with him, have you?"

you didn’t respond, suddenly paralyzed by the sight of a familiar face, standing idly by the drinks table. spencer reinhard. if he was here, then that meant…

a pair of hands covered your eyes, followed by the smell of old spice and a hint of weed. "guess who?"

ah, shit.

"hey…" you said nervously, glancing around the room. of course, he's at the one party you decided to attend.

"you're supposed to guess- whatever- guess what, babe?" warren grinned as he plopped down on your side of the couch, far too comfortably for your liking.

"what?" you asked, trying to keep your voice level.

"got my hands on a couple of pre-rolls," he said, pulling out a small baggy with a smirk. "i told my guy about you, and he threw in some edibles as a gift."

"told him about me?"

"yeah, he couldn't believe it. luckily, i had that polaroid of us—"

you froze, knowing exactly what he was referring to. the first time you had sex high with warren, you came up with the "great" idea to take pictures together afterward. you thought you had hid them, but he must've swiped one without your knowledge.

"you had what?"

"don't worry," warren said quickly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "i covered the lower half with my hand- are these your friends?" he glanced at the others. "you guys look a bit tense. you interested?" he waved the baggy slightly.

"no." marissa said sternly, her eyes narrowing as she shot him a cold look. cleo, sitting beside her, simply ignored him, her expression unreadable.

"jeez, what's their problem?" warren muttered.

"warren, go hang out with spence…" you desperately wanted him to leave.

sensing your discomfort, warren shrugged. "fine," he said, standing up. "we'll be out back. let me know when you wanna go- i’ll give you a ride."

you watched as warren walked away, a pang of guilt settling in for how dismissive you had been. you were only trying to protect him until you could get your friends to understand. yes, warren was incredibly chaotic, but that was part of what drew you to him. he wasn’t just some lazy stoner; he wanted to push boundaries and break rules. he yearned to live a different kind of life, to do something extraordinary, unbothered by what others thought.

but he cared what you thought, and you had just pushed him away.

you rose from the couch, glancing over at your friends. the need to apologize was growing by the second, urging you to make things right. "hey guys, i'll see you around. i think i need to-"

before you could finish, warren was suddenly at your side. "we've gotta go, come on."

"what? why?" you asked, confused.

"LIPKA!" you heard someone roar from an open door. "I'M GONNA FUCKING KILL YOU!"

warren’s strong grip clamped around your wrist, pulling you out of the house. as you stumbled behind him, you took a glance back and saw the angry figure charging toward you, recognizing the unmistakable frat symbol on his shirt.

when you finally reached the car, spencer was already in the driver’s seat, watching behind you. without hesitation, you scrambled into the backseat and warren followed, the frantic moment pushing you into the vehicle.

"GO, GO, GO!" warren shouted, a hint of laughter in his voice. the engine roared to life, and the car surged forward, its tires screeching against the pavement.

the escape left your heart pounding furiously, and you struggled to process the chaos you had just experienced. the boys erupted in laughter as the car sped away. warren leaned forward, playfully thumping spencer on the shoulder.

“serves that fucking asshole right!” he exclaimed, his grin wide with satisfaction.

“what happened?” you asked, still trying to catch your breath.

warren pulled out a wad of cash, holding it up with a triumphant smirk. “i sold that dumbass jake a baggy of flour.”

you sighed, rolling your eyes slightly, your friend's comments echoing in your mind. warren glanced at you. his mouth opened as if he was about to say something, but he quickly thought better of it. you both stayed quiet the whole ride to your college apartment, avoiding the tension that hung between you like a dark cloud.

when spencer finally pulled up to the curb, you both stepped out of the car, the cool night air doing little to ease the knot in your stomach. you walked ahead, the familiar path to your apartment feeling longer than usual, while warren followed closely behind.

as soon as the door to your place clicked shut, warren got straight to the point.

“what’s going on?” his eyes were fixed on you, searching for answers.

“warren, i’m just tired-"

“that’s bullshit, y/n, and you know it,” he shot back, stepping closer, the intensity in his gaze making it impossible to look away. your relationship was still fairly new and you had never seen him like this. not with you, anyway.

you stayed quiet, biting your lip as you searched for something, anything, to say that wouldn’t make things worse. but the words wouldn’t come, trapped somewhere between your throat and the overwhelming pressure in your chest.

warren ran a hand through his hair, the frustration evident in the sharp tug of his fingers as they glided through the long strands. his voice dropped to a softer tone, almost vulnerable, as if the question he was about to ask took everything out of him. "are- are you embarrassed of me?"

"baby… no-" you began, but your voice faltered as you caught the frown on his face. it was a small, almost imperceptible pouting of his lips, but it spoke volumes. he didn’t believe you. and deep down, in a place you didn’t want to admit even existed, you weren’t sure if you believed yourself either.

warren shook his head, his eyes narrowing as he leaned back against the wall, his arms crossing defensively. "you never even let me come over when you head back home."

you opened your mouth to respond, your mind racing to come up with something that would make this better, make him understand. "that’s because-" you started, but he cut you off.

"you think i’m gonna embarrass you in front of your parents," he said, the words spilling out in a rush. "'our poor perfect daughter is dating a fuck-up.' i’m not a fuck-up! i just have different plans for my life than you boring-ass people!"

"warren, i never-" you tried to interject, but he was on a roll now, the floodgates of his emotions opening wide.

"and i can’t fucking be perfect all the time!" he yelled. "i’m fucking human!" he continued to ramble, his words tumbling over each other, his breaths coming quicker.

"warren-" you tried again, but he didn’t seem to hear you.

"WARREN!" you finally shouted, your voice slicing through his seemingly never-ending rant.

he stopped mid-sentence, his eyes snapping to yours, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back whatever else he was desperate to say. "WHAT?!" he barked.

you took a deep breath, steadying yourself. "fine, next friday, i’m supposed to head back home… it’s my dad’s birthday dinner… you can come and meet my family."

warren’s eyes narrowed suspiciously, and he let out a sharp, bitter laugh. "i don’t need your pity invitation,"

you stepped closer, your eyes locking onto his. "i want you to come!" you insisted. "it’s never been about you. it’s just… my parents can be a bit judgmental," you lied, the words tasting bitter on your tongue, but you couldn’t bear to tell him the truth.

warren studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. finally, he let out a heavy sigh. "you promise?" he asked, stepping closer to you.

you reached out, taking his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "i promise," you said softly, hoping that the warmth in your voice would be enough to convince him, even if you were still trying to convince yourself.

he lazily guided your arms around his back, his touch gentle as he pulled you into a sweet embrace. his warmth enveloped you, and as his arms tightened around you, a familiar sense of safety washed over you. being in his arms never failed to make you feel protected, cherished, as if nothing in the world could touch you.

despite the conflicting feelings that swirled inside you about how others perceived your relationship- their judgments, their whispers-none of it seemed to matter when you were wrapped up in him like this. in the quiet moments, when it was just the two of you, all you felt was the love you had for him, pure and undeniable, drowning out any doubts or fears.

you felt warren shift in your embrace, his body tensing slightly against yours. instinctively, you pulled away, your brows furrowing in confusion as you noticed the sudden change in him.

"babe?" you asked, tilting your head as you looked up at him. "are you… hard?"

warren’s cheeks flushed as he offered a sheepish grin, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "you just look so fuckin' hot right now…" it more had to do with you raising your voice at him for the first time but he would never admit to that.

a surprised laugh escaped your lips. "ohhh my god," you said, shaking your head. "weirdo!" the playful insult held no real bite; if anything, you were relieved that his thoughts had shifted to something less serious, even if it was a bit… unsavory.

"sorrryy," warren drawled out, his grin wide.

you rolled your eyes, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. "alright, come on-" you began to turn around when, without warning, he scooped you up, tossing you over his shoulder with surprising ease.

“warren!” you squealed in surprise, but your protests were ignored as he held you securely, his strong arms wrapping around your legs as he carried you toward your room with a determined stride.

"to the bedroom!" he declared, as he marched forward, your laughter echoing through the hallway.

as he carried you into the room, you could feel the tension of earlier melting away, replaced by the warmth of his affection and the thrill of being so completely swept up in his arms.

--

you’d been worried about how warren would fit into the evening at your parents, thinking to your friends criticisms, but to your surprise, the atmosphere had been light and warm, the conversation flowing easily. it turned out that your dad had been friends with warren’s father during their college days- which served as an easy topic to build off of. although warren wasn’t particularly fond of talking about his dad, he managed during the talk, his jokester personality doing wonders with your parents.

after dinner, the mood was relaxed, everyone contentedly full and in good spirits. the suggestion to watch a movie came up, and it was quickly agreed upon. as you and your mom went to sit on the couch, your dad motioned for warren to join him on the porch. there was a certain seriousness in your dad’s tone that made you pause, a small flicker of worry sparking in the back of your mind. but you brushed it off, telling yourself it was nothing. probably just a typical fatherly chat.

still, as the minutes ticked by and they didn’t return, the worry began to gnaw at you. you exchanged a glance with your mom, who raised an eyebrow, her expression mirroring your own unease. finally, unable to ignore the growing curiosity, you decided to check on them.

you slowly slid the glass door open, stepping out onto the porch, the cool night air brushing against your skin. “hey-” you started, peering around the corner, only to freeze at the sight before you. “oh, what the fuck? dad!”

your dad, looking far too amused for his own good, was holding a joint, a cloud of smoke curling lazily in the air around him. he chuckled at your reaction as passed the joint off to warren, who accepted it with a grin, taking a casual drag as if this were the most normal thing in the world. he would've killed you if he ever caught you smoking but here he is.

"what?" your dad replied with a shrug. he glanced at warren, who was now chuckling along with him, clearly enjoying the situation. "it's my birthday! i think i deserve to treat myself"

behind you, your mom appeared in the doorway, having followed you outside when you didn’t return. she took one look at the scene and burst into laughter, the sound infectious and disarming. you found yourself laughing too, the absurdity of it all breaking through your shock.

“i can’t believe this,” you muttered, shaking your head, but unable to wipe the grin from your face as you watched them both continue to banter as if they were old buddies.

--

the car hummed softly as you drove through the dimly lit streets. warren sat in the passenger seat, his arm resting casually on the window ledge as he glanced at you.

"you know," he began, speaking a bit slurred as his hand played with one of your loose curls. "your dad is seriously cool… like, really cool. and, uh, i gotta say it- your mom’s a total milf."

you felt your eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and you glanced over at him, half-laughing, half in disbelief. "warren, please, don’t fuck my mom."

warren's eyes widened, and he quickly waved his hands in front of him as if warding off your words. "whoa, whoa- no, i didn’t mean it like that!" he stammered. "i meant it objectively, you know? respectfully. she’s a milf, sure, but like… it's cool to see where you get all your killer looks from," he added, trying to recover.

you couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head at his desperate attempt to backtrack. "nice save," you replied, your lips curving into a smirk as you focused back on the road.

warren chuckled, visibly relieved that you weren’t upset. "i mean it though," he said more softly, his voice carrying a sincere note that held more layers than he could express in the moment. "you’ve got great genes."

you pulled up in front of warren’s house and parked, turning off the engine, the sudden silence filling the small space between you.

he took a moment before unbuckling his seatbelt, his movements slow as if he was reluctant to leave. he turned to face you, his expression earnest now. "thanks for the ride," he said, hand reaching to scratch the back of his head. "and, you know, for trusting me. i don’t take that lightly."

you met his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at the sincerity in his eyes. "of course," you replied softly. you can't believe you ever doubted him. "i trust you, warren."

there was a brief pause, a moment where the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet cocoon of the car. then, without warning, warren leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, lingering kiss. it was soft, sweet, and filled with unspoken promise (and of course weed).

when he pulled back, a small smile played on his lips, and he reached up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "see you tomorrow?"

"yeah, see you tomorrow."

warren opened the car door and stepped out, turning back to give you one last look. "goodnight,"

"goodnight," you echoed, watching as he walked up the path to his front door. he paused at the entrance, giving you a final wave before disappearing inside.

you sat there for a moment, the smile on your face widening as you replayed the evening’s events in your mind. the earlier worries and doubts that had clouded your thoughts now seemed distant, almost silly. maybe, just maybe, you didn’t need to be so worried after all.

[haveyoureadthisbook-poll]

[bumblepuppy]

Dramatical Murder jumpscare

[libraryspectre]

I got the bookshelf organized today (easily the most fun part of unpacking so far) and my favorite part of the bookshelf is how I transitioned from sci fi -> nonfiction about space -> cosmic horror

[sunlighthroughthe-ashes]

book of the week: su cuerpo y otras fiestas by carmen mariá machado ~~

notes on the text: the female body as a site of conflict. death, hunger, desire. men in unwanted places; the brunt of belonging to someone else's fantasy. madness as cool and sharp as frozen candlesticks. the blunt edges of longing, beaten down. true horror is looking at one's own unvarnished self. abuse is one breath away from all bonds. skin is just another surface wound. women's stories weave between this world and the next.

favorite quote: "i believe in a world where impossible things happen. where love can outstrip brutality, can neutralize it, as though it never was, or transform it into something new and more beautiful. where love can outdo nature."

[hexxlibris]

Haunted Ecologies, by Corey Farrenkopf

the number of men who prefer to horde bones rather than protect life is alarming

[ladzwriting]

Get The Short Story Bundle Here

If you're a fan of horror, fantasy, or some mix in between, here is a collection of my six stories available on itch. For just $3, you can get them through Tuesday.

Read below the cut to get a preview of all the stories and find a new favorite

[psygull]

visiting my local library specifically to go gaze longingly at the Memento dvd and leaving without checking it out

[afanofmanyhats]

The air was suffocatingly thick with despair. Lesovikk tightened his grip on the cliffside as he slowly shimmied across the stone. Below him a group of Manas rumbled as they swung fierce blows at each other. Whether it was a genuine fight to the death or simply a way to pass the time, Lesovikk couldn't tell. He simply thanked Mata Nui that his Faxon gave him the lizard-like camouflage and climbing ability to make it past them. The last time he had tried to infiltrate Karzahni had ended with several bruises and a crushed pauldron due to bad tactics on his part.

What else is new, he thought darkly. It wouldn't be the first time my plans got someone killed.

His foot caught onto a loose stone. His weight shifted, and he managed to grab a better foothold just as the shale fell down to the roiling mass of Rahi below. He held his breath as the rocks pattered against a monster's shell. It didn't bother to look up as a different Manas had just slammed a claw into its treads. Lesovikk let out his breath and continued, even more careful this time.

It was slow going. The mountains that ringed Karzahni were blackened from soot, and the ash-choked wind made it hard to breathe. At the same time he was chilled to the bone; no warmth would be found here. Yet he kept climbing, his mind burning as he made further progress into the domain of the damned.

When the Manas were beyond hearing, he finally lowered himself to the canyon floor. He sat for a moment and caught his breath. The air was colder, but clearer. The pain in his throat somehow revived him, and he soon stood back up.

I won't turn back this time. Sarda, Idris, Piruk- everyone, I won't leave without you.

He kept his camouflage, his armor blending into the rough grey and cold black of the rocks. He followed the canyon's passage until he finally saw an opening into a wider space. At the edges of the wall he spotted two figures on either side. He moved to duck out of sight until he realized they were too small to be Manas. Matoran, maybe?

He crept forward, cautious of any traps Karzahni or his minions may have set down. He detected nothing. As he drew closer, his caution turned to curiosity, then to confusion. They were statues. Rather than depicting guards, as he would have expected, they were Matoran. Bizarrely shaped, gangly Matoran, but Matoran all the same. They sat on rocks, one holding a pickaxe and the other a chisel. Their expressions seemed weary beyond all belief.

They must be a warning to what awaits the Matoran who come here. Toil without reward.

As he passed, Lesovikk got the uncanny feeling they were watching him.

Lesovikk felt his heartlight dim as he surveyed the land before him. The sky was black with soot, illuminated only by the red glows of flames scattered throughout the region. Far in the distance he could see a twisted black metal citadel. Smoke billowed from countless chimneys, and the light glowing from the windows made it seem like a many-eyed monster was staring back at him. A giant gate opened its maw, and he could see tiny figures scurrying in and out of it.

Closer to him, the land was dry with pale sand, only broken up by rock spires, more statues resembling the ones he had just encountered, and twisted plants that didn't seem living. Further away, a collection of huts haphazardly grouped together were centered on a gloomy lake. They were Matoran-sized.

Could it be...? They look like the huts back home!

His pulse rising, Lesovikk began to hurry. If his hunch was right, then his journey would soon be over. Maybe he would be able to start his redemption properly. Even if he couldn't bring his team back, surely he could rescue his Matoran from the bowels of this hell.

One of the statues suddenly jerked up. Lesovikk stumbled in surprise and drew his blade. He leveled it as the figure creaked its joints, its mask turning to face him.

Lesovikk felt his blood freeze.

"Turaga Vrikol?"

He could hardly believe what he was seeing. The Turaga's limbs were crooked and thin, their movements jagged from lack of muscles. His hands were curled in, weakly grasping at air. His purple armor was pitted and rusted. What was most horrifying to the Toa of Air were the dull black pits where his eyes and heartlight were supposed to be.

"You... what are you doing here?" Lesovikk felt anger replacing his horror. The last he had seen this corpse, Turaga Vrikol had been babbling about how all the Matoran under his guidance - under Lesovikk's protection - had been flawed. Had been lazy, wasting their time with music and talking. Lesovikk had left him alone to wallow in an empty village.

The Turaga's head jerked up at Lesovikk's words. Lesovikk swallowed his disgust. He had never seen a Mask of Undeath working before. He never wanted to see it again.

The Turaga's voice was a husky, flat whisper, grating from an empty throat like a dull dagger drawn from its sheath. It was miles away from the soothing rich tones Lesovikk had once loved and respected.

"Gone. Sent away... I sent them away. And they were gone..."

"The Matoran? I'm getting them out of here. Do you know where they are?"

"Gone... I was gone. I was lost. I was sent away to seek the lost... I was lost... I was gone..."

"Turaga!" Lesovikk snapped. "Don't waste my time. What time you have is borrowed as it is. Tell me where they are!"

"Gone... Lost... Sent away... Gone... Lost... Sent away... Gone. Lost. Sent away."

Turaga Vrikol's voice began to change. It grew louder and deeper with each repetition. Lesovikk wanted to walk away, but he felt rooted in place like one of the statues. The Turaga began slowly stepping towards him, the pick that had once been his badge of office trailing in the sand behind him.

"Gone. Lost. Sent away. Gone! Lost! Sent away! Gone! Lost! Sent away! GONE! LOST! SENT AWAY!"

Vrikol's broken hand grabbed Lesovikk's arm as the sightless eyes turned up. Lesovikk saw a flare of green light in them as the Turaga screeched, "THEY'RE GONE! THEY'RE LOST TO ME! I CAN'T SEND THEM BACK!"

The words echoed into the cavernous valley. The flash faded from Vrikol's eyes and heartlight. The pick fell from his hand, and with a long, guttural sigh, the Turaga rolled onto his back.

Lesovikk stood there for a long while, dread gripping him in a vice.

Did he come here looking for them? Did... did he mean they're gone from here, or gone like he was? What did Karzahni do to my people?

He looked back at the citadel. Somehow he knew he would find no answers there. He looked back at the Turaga's body only to startle. There was a grey pallor creeping over the armor. The same shade of grey as the statues.

Those aren't statues.

Lesovikk choked back a scream. He took the pick and placed it into the Turaga's hand. He wouldn't be coming back here. There was nothing here for the Toa. He certainly wouldn't find the Matoran in these statues. But if there was a chance they were elsewhere in the universe, he would scour every last island for them.

We've failed you, my friends. But I won't stop searching.

He turned back to the canyon and walked away.

Behind him, Turaga Vrikol's eyes turned grey.

[indie-bard-maiden]

~The Haunted Manor~

(the witches/ghost story, apart of my short story collection 'The Ballad of Hollowfaye' also available to read on wattpad)

Three witches (two Vespers and a Depraysier) and a mortal unite over a Ouija board in the Vespers' haunted house and try to commune with the spirits of their brutally murdered and dearly departed family.

Genre: YA Fantasy

Word Count: (to be determined)

(Pt 6)

Wind is an omen in nearly every culture. Considering it's the windiest day of the year, I hope it's a good one. It's off to a bad start considering I was caught between being upset that Fives had invited a stranger to tag along on our Halloween plans—and being stupid quiet because she'd stripped into the costume she hadn't worn to school. They wouldn't allow her to wear it. Not without the tights or the jacket or the long-sleeved shirt under it.

My eyes were glued to her legs. They followed her as she paced around her bedroom.

"What if she canceled? What if she's too scared?" She turned to me abruptly, her almond eyes frantic.

And for a second, we stared at each other. Because my mouth wouldn't open. And if I could find my words, they would've been along the lines of,  'Why couldn't you see that I wanted to be alone with you? Was it you who couldn't take the hint or is it me?'

She sucked in a deep breath, blinking rapidly all the while as if I'd actually asked the stupid question. Her hands straightened the bottom of her skirt, pulling it down slightly.

"Sorry..." And then her eyes widened.

Mine would've too if I weren't used to her already. Sometimes I think she can read my mind--the way she just knows things sometimes--but I know this is all my fault. I have an expressive face, and right now it's saying, 'I can't stop looking at your legs, and I feel really guilty about it.'

"Look, maybe we should talk about last night?" She pulled the fabric down further, as if she's had just about enough of my gaze, as if she's seen my thoughts and is disgusted by them. And I knew exactly where this is going:

'Abbotticus, I love you too. As a friend. Can you like please stop staring at me now?'

I bolted to my feet and finally, my mouth worked and my eyes found hers, and whatever words my lips couldn't form before, I tried to send her telepathically. And she flinched... My heart pounded in my chest. I was ruining this. I couldn't believe I was ruining this.

"I'm sorry, Sadbh," I would sayand I wouldn't use her nickname, something I always do, because I would want her to know that I'm sorry and I'm serious, and ruining this is the last thing I wanted to do, "I can make these stupid feelings go away. I promise."

But instead, I said nothing.

Because a deep, hollow knock came from the front door. Someone was using the actual real knocker, the Pentagram that traps evil within the segments and vertices. I never used it. Nobody ever used it. This stranger was a fearless fool.

The echo rumbled through the entire house, shaking the walls, vibrating the floors, clattering the windows. Fives' eyes widened, full of glee and I froze. She looked genuinely happy for a second, like the girl she was before everything.

"She's here!" She clapped her hands together and sped through the door, "Come on, Abbott! The spirit board is down here!"

My heart thrilled in my chest. A spirit board? She wasn't seriously expecting me to exist in the same room with something like that? It wasn't even like I believed in it, but I didn't want to go out of my way to prove myself wrong. Not in this house--which even Fernezra has said was haunted--not on Halloween night either. If anything out of the ordinary happened, it would be because we were asking for it...

I followed her anyway.

She didn't even bother to check the peephole before she opened the door! She was even more fearless than the fool!

"You came!" She shrieked. I flinched at the high pitch as she pulled Malin inside. And it was the craziest thing--I flinched even harder at her appearance. Her bone-white skin, sunken cheeks, almost-luminescent gray eyes... Who the hell was this girl?

Her eyes found me and jolted a shock down my spine. She didn't smile--didn't react at all-- when she greeted me, "Abotticus Jinx."

She knew my name... My full name...

"May-lin." A smirk found my lips. I wasn't even the smirking type. It brought me great joy though, pretending to have power over her the way she did over me.

"It's Malin." Fives cut in. My eyes snapped to hers and she was frowning at me.

I wanted to ask why she was protecting her. This girl didn't need protecting, her appearance did that well enough for her. I wanted to ask why she'd invited someone she'd barely known a day into her house. Something held me back. Something was always holding me back in that house.

"The dining room is through there--" she pointed through the archway, "--now where is-- FERN!" Malin passed through the door just as Fernezra's laugh answered from the kitchen.

"Coming, coming, I have treats."

I was about to follow them inside, but Fives grabbed my wrist. An electric warmth cascaded in waves all the way down my arm, all over my body, and then I turned and met her eyes, and the waves turned to ice in my stomach.

"I know you're upset--" she murmured. It was like she was scared she'd break me.

"I'm not upset."

"You're hurt." My mouth snapped shut. "And I'm sorry. I promise there will be time for us tonight, but right now, this is important to me... I need you to give her a chance." Her voice cracked and she turned back toward the archway, wiping her eyes, "If that's not enough for you then you can leave."

She was cold and tense. The old vulnerable Fives left, and I wanted the right to miss her, but I understood too well why she had to go. I nodded even though she couldn't see me, and I tried to free the tension all over my body. It was no use.

My instincts were telling me there was something wrong here and they hadn't shut up about it since Malin arrived. Wouldn't that make her the problem? Isn't she who they're trying to warn me about?

I went against them and followed Fives. Malin had already made herself at home, sitting at the head of the table, picking up the ancient wooden planchet, and peeking through the glass hole. The corner of her mouth pulled up.

"You were right. There are many haunts here tonight." Her pupil dilated inside her magnified eye. It was such a metallic silver it was almost purple, and she smiled, "They seem to be intrigued with your mortal."

A cold chill slapped me hard on the neck and it didn't leave. Her smile widened, and I was sure it was the cause of the floor swaying beneath me. My brain was melting, just something else I was sure of. The floor groaned as their chairs slid against it. Fernezra's voice cut through the fog.

"Jinx, you look pale. Try some of these," Her footsteps rattled my melted brain, her sharp nails cut into my palm as she pressed something soggy into it.

"What—"

"It's a cupcake. Perfectly moist too."

It dripped through my fingers, splattering into a thousand puddles on the rotted floor. I slurped what was left off of my fingers, and the shaking in my thighs ceased. I stood tall and strong when I sat down at Malin's left, beside Fives.

Neither noticed me, both watched as she traced a finger along the vines carved along the edges of the board. Fernezra was the only other person not trapped within her spell.

"It's been in our family for generations." Fives explained nervously. Her green eyes watched Malin for a reaction.

She only nodded, and her fingers followed the vines down to the words 'Hello' and 'Farewell'. Then they stopped. Suddenly. Coldly. She was still as a corpse.

"Our grandmother used it every day. She said she needed to commune with her mother before she made any decision."

Fern but in with a, "Yes! I remember that. She used to ask her everything! 'Ma, what should I make for dinner? Ma, does this perfume make me smell like a harlot?'"

Fives nodded, her smile fell somberly, "I always thought she smelled nice. Like a nice old lady."

"Mhm," Malin spoke cooly like mist, "Agatha?" Fern and Fives stared at her. Malin stared back. Then she blinked and her eyes focused on something behind Fern.

"Oh. My apologies." She blinked again and her eyes immediately found Fives. "She says you knew her as meemaw." Fern and I gasped, but Fives just clapped her hands in excitement. "She says the perfume did make her smell like a harlot and you'd do well to dispose of yours too."

Fives gasped and I rolled my eyes, "She does NOT smell like a harlot."

The second her eyes found me, I froze.

"Your family has their concerns about continuing this conversation in front of a mortal. They've asked me to inquire if Salem 1692 means anything to you?"

Fives grasped my arm, and it was like the spell broke. My lungs were working again. Those silver eyes had no effect on me. I was free! Her murder attempt failed! She must've been devastated.

"Abbott Jinx isn't like those mortals. He's my bodyguard. He protects us from any harm this way comes."

Malin raised an eyebrow at me. I smiled back. "This boy is your familiar?"

We turned to each other. It took all of two seconds for us to start howling with laughter. It couldn't be real. This girl couldn't be serious. Only the heat of the flickering candles and the smell of the raw pumpkin spice cupcakes reminded me this was reality.

"You laugh in the face of your responsibilities, Mortal? You think protecting the life of a witch is an easy task? Especially the lives of witches that have been cursed and doomed for ages?"

We stopped laughing.

Her eyes were unforgiving, "If this is all a joke to you, perhaps my agreeing to help was a mistake."

Fives jumped up from her seat, knocking it backward. "NO! No, please! This means the entire world to me, please. We're sorry, very very incredibly sorry." I almost thought she was going to fall to her knees and beg for this stranger's forgiveness.

Malin stared her down.

Fives stared back, unwavering.

"Please."

There was a pause. A lull. That is until the sound of Fern slurping her cupcakes shattered the silence. She was barely paying us any mind. Her eyes closed in ecstasy, her fingers dripping batter.

Malin cleared her throat, "It would help if you'd tell me a little bit more about how they died, and when."

"Really?" Fern snorted, "You can't find that out by asking them with your little ghost board?"

Fives ignored her, "It was last winter... They were driving home after a Yule Ritual in the wildwood. Cops said they must've been drunk when they hit a patch of black ice, lost control, wrecked, and animals pulled them from the wreckage and attempted to hide their bodies."

"Animals?"

Fives nodded sarcastically, annoyed at the entire idea, at the incompetency of the force on her parents' case, "Animals."

Fern was more serious when she spoke now, "Okay, look, I get it doesn't sound that plausible when you say it out loud. But this is even more crazy, Sadbh. You're trying to find the person who allegedly murdered your parents through a goddamn spirit board. That sounds less crazy than, I don't know, a bear killing your parents when they wrecked their car in a literal forest?"

Fives waved her off, "Just admit you've never heard of hibernation, Fern. NO BEARS were out at that time."

Fern rolled her eyes, "Okay how about you admit you've never heard of global warming? Bears ARE out at that time nowadays because of overfishing and they haven't enough food TO hibernate, not to mention it doesn't get cold enough. They probably don't even realize it's WINTER anymore."

I regretted being stuck in the middle of this. I was glad when Fives' hand went back to my arm though. Her hands tightened around me. Almost cutting into my skin.

"If you don't want to be here, you can leave. Go gawk over Quinby Digby at the library before it closes or something." She growled.

Malin went to say something, but Fern snapped, "First of all, I gawk over Zaskia, NOT Quinby. Second of all, I'm staying, so when she pulls some rubbish out of her ass, I can say 'See this why we don't listen to scam artists who believe they can communicate with corpses through a plank of wood.'"

I tried to jump in, to maybe bring some peace to the mix, but they cut me off as soon as I got my mouth to work. Malin and I met each other's eyes and it seemed like we were sharing the same thought: This is going to be a long night.

Sadbh crossed her arms sarcastically, "How nice, well I want you to stay so you can find out who killed YOUR family too."

"Sadbh, come on. This is so obviously not real. Right, Abbott? You agree with me?" She looked between her cousin and me. Fives look at me too. And then Malin. Three pairs of eyes were on me and they were all hungry.

I'm no fearless fool, so I hesitated..., "Look, I don't claim to know how your parents died, and I'll admit it does sound suspicious. Maybe if the police did their jobs we'd have more answers..." I licked my lips; none of them looked satisfied, "But using a spirit board? I mean, they're bad luck. And they hold evil or something? And I understand you want to know what happened so you can get some kind of closure... And we will get that for you! Whether it was a bear or a murderer or whatever, we'll get to the bottom of this, I promise."

I was rambling and it was obvious. What could I have said that would've made it matter for anyone? Malin rescued me with answers, "Actually..." her eyes focused, as if she were coming out of a foggy haze, "Have you ever heard of divine retribution?"

"No?" Fives and I echoed together, and her hand squeezed me tighter.

Fern groaned, "Please don't tell me you're saying my Aunt and Uncle were killed because God had a bone to pick with them."

"No. Of course not. Your Aunt and Uncle were killed because A god had a bone to pick with your original ancestor and cursed his entire bloodline hundreds of years ago."

I laughed, "You're joking..."

Malin sighed, "I'm afraid not. Gods can hold quite the grudge."

"So, you're saying A GOD killed my parents." Fives' hesitated.

Malin was getting tired of the questions, tired of us not understanding, tired of us not taking witchy voodoo seriously, "No, I'm saying A GOD is why your parents met their untimely end, just like your aunt, and your family before them and you two will after them. It'll go on and on and on."

Fern threw her cupcake paper at the spirit board, "SEE! It's bullshit, Sadbh! She's just taking advantage of the knowledge that our family has all died young to come to some bullshit conclusion. Cursed by the gods, are you genuinely serious? Which god then, huh?"

I cleared my throat, "And which ancestor? Can't you talk to him? Ask him what he did? Maybe we can fix it? Reverse his mistake or something?" My heart was pounding in my chest. They couldn't all die young. Not because of one guy nobody remembered. Not when it's been so long.

Sadbh growled, her fingers cutting into me, "None of that matters! I still don't know who or what killed my parents! That's why we're here right now!"

I had to yank myself free. I couldn't bear her knife-like claws anymore, "No offense, Fives, I think preserving your life and getting rid of a curse that could kill you matters at least a little."

"Malin. Please. I need to know. I can't move on if I don't know."

Malin cleared her throat, "You ever notice how things change with the breeze? How new paths form, how you make choices you wouldn't have made otherwise, how a new you is born and the old you is remade?"

The omen. My eyes flash. I don't even realize I'm speaking, "What the fu--"

Fives interrupts, "What does this have to do with anything?"

Fern rolled her eyes, "Yeah, and why do you have to say it so pretentiously? You're literally talking about the wind."

It was all becoming less real by the second. Even the cold slap on my neck had disappeared. Malin's effect on me was nothing more than annoyance.

And it was almost like she'd felt my shock. Her eyes locked with mine, and they held an air of righteousness, "The Goddess of Destiny has everything to do with everything, and I wouldn't disregard the wind so easily. How do you think Mistraldaire was cursed in the first place? Arrogance and hubris--thinking you're better than the gods."

Fern cackled, "Mistraldaire? MISTRALDAIRE? That's not even a real name."

"Your name is literally Fernezra," I whispered.

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, shut up. Whose side are you even on?"

"Well--"

"But thinking the decision to curse an entire bloodline is a little dramatic means we're disrespecting the gods?" Fives murmured, "My parents are dead because this Goddess of Destiny was offended by something a man who lived hundreds of years ago said. Maybe I don't want to respect a goddess who thinks murder is a fair punishment for an entire family."

Malin nodded, "Fair enough, but murder wasn't the punishment."

Fives shook her head, "I don't understand. If it wasn't, then why do we keep dying?"

"It's not so much death so much as the way it's orchestrated. And the first curse wasn't death, it was BECAUSE of death."

"Can you stop speaking in riddles for five seconds and just answer her questions?" Fern groaned.

Malin spoke reminiscently, "I recognize the name. Mistraldaire... A Veteran of the War of the Schools."

"Schools... Like a high school...?" I raised an eyebrow.

She shook her head as if it were obvious, "The Schools of Witchcraft. Every clan belongs to one of the three: Mind, Body, or Soul. Mistraldaire's were masters of the body."

"How do you even know this?"

Fives shushed her cousin, and Malin continued, "He's all over our history books of that period. He wasn't so much a veteran as much as he was a disgrace in the eyes of witches and gods everywhere."

Sadbh gasped, "Why? What did he do?"

Fern shushed her back.

Malin looked between them both and waited for silence. Once they gave in, she cleared her throat, "It's a long story but to summarize, in the early days of the war, thousands were lost every day. Undertakers couldn't keep up with the bodies, the land couldn't keep up with the graves, and ghosts from the dead buried carelessly would return and haunt both sides. Then the School of the Body joined and healers from all over Iyael were summoned to await their divine duty--to help the wounded and the fallen warriors."

Her silver eyes began to glow violet as she spoke passionately, "Mistraldaire was one of those called upon. He was one of the best healers. He could heal those on the brink of death, could bring back those just barely over the cusp. When other healers would attempt it, those brought back were different. They weren't the same that were lost. But Mistraldaire was skilled at his craft, a master. He could bring back the soul as well as the body."

"That's good then, right? So why was he punished? He was a hero." I wondered aloud.

Her eyes met mine again, but their power was no more over me, "It wasn't enough for him to be praised, to see the product of his divinity. He wanted to prove his valor. He wanted to show the schools he wasn't just the most powerful healer, he could be a warrior too. He could take life just as he could give it back. So one day, he decided to do just that. He abandoned his post. Took the sword of a warrior he didn't heal and joined the other warriors on the battleground..."

Fern leaned forward on her elbows and blushed, "Okay... Not that I believe any of this... But... What happened then...?"

Malin leaned back, "It was the bloodiest day the war had seen. More died not by the stolen sword but by the rejection of his duty. By taking his fate into his own hands, by deciding he knew his destiny best, by rejecting the blessing and the glory the goddess had given him, the witches that died on the battlefield weren't healed. Those that were killed weren't brought back. More ghosts haunted than warriors fought. He'd decided death was more important than life. For this decision, he was exiled by his fellow witch, and cursed by the gods who'd blessed him."

"So why not just punish him," Fives yelled exasperated, "Why punish us too? We had nothing to do with that!"

Malin looked as though she couldn't understand the question, "Thousands were lost because of him. Mothers lost sons, sons lost fathers, entire clans gone forever. Maybe they didn't think one man's blood would suffice. Maybe they wanted the entire Vespers' bloodline to fall."

Fern narrowed her eyes, "So you can ask the ghosts what our original ancestor was named, but you can't ask them why they deemed all this necessary."

Malin sighed, "Only your family is here at the moment. I can't ask them what every clan from every school thought when they cursed yours."

"I just think it's fuc--

Sadbh jumped, "Did you just say our family is here?"

Malin nodded.

"My parents???" Her voice reached that high pitch again, but I didn't flinch. I understood her need, her desperation.

Malin tilted her head, "Your father."

Fives' eyes were frantic, her hand reaching for mine again. I interlocked our fingers, though it didn't help much. "My dad is here right now? Can he hear me? Where's my mom? Why aren't they together?"

"He can hear you. and he says your mother was mortal. She wasn't cursed the way he was. She doesn't suffer the same fate as he." She spoke softly as if she was trying to soothe her.

Sadbh shook her head, "Suffer? He's suffering? Where is he? What happened? Why can't I hear him? Tell him I want to speak to him!"

I squeezed her hand gently, "Hey, hey, relax. Take a deep breath."

Malin spoke cooly, "I've already told you. Your clan are masters of the body. Your powers stem from there. Us Depraysiers are masters of the soul, and so I can commune with the dead."

Fives' voice was cracking. She was gone. I was losing her all over again. Just like last year. Just like when this was still new. She was beside herself with pain and sorrow and yearning for answers, "Then I should be able to feel him. He knows I can feel. I can feel things, emotions from other people. Why can't I feel his?"

I froze. She didn't notice. I didn't expect her to.

Malin sighed, "Because he isn't a body. He is a soul, an essence trapped here."

"Hey, can you shut the hell up for a second?" For a second, I thought Fern was talking to me. Me and my racing thoughts and my racing heart, but she was scowling Malin down, "Can't you see she's having a panic attack? You're not helping."

"And what do you mean you can feel people's emotions?" I muttered.

Fern eyed me then, "You too. Just shut up. Sadbh, relax, okay? Get your feelings under control and she'll answer more questions, okay? You're going to make yourself sick."

Five's voice was small, barely above a whisper, her eyes distant, "She said he's suffering, Nez. He's suffering and my mom isn't there with him. He's all alone."

Malin shook her head. She clasped her fingers together with a hum, "He isn't alone. Iris is there. He says she's been helping him since he arrived. She's been trying to help him contact Yuna... Yuna is your mother, yes?"

"Is he in pain? Just tell me that." Her voice cracked.

Malin cleared her throat, as if she was attempting to clear Fives' as well, "He says he's alright. He feels no pain. He suffers only because of his punishment."

Her voice only shook more. "Punishment? What punishment."

Malin goes quiet and pale. It's the first time she's looked remorseful. Probably the first time in her entire life. "He doesn't wish for me to say."

Sadbh shakes from beside me. She's restless now. I grab her hand, trying to still her and her racing heart. She doesn't notice any of us are there. She barely notices Malin anymore. Her eyes dance around the room, searching for her father's spirit. "Tell me! Please. Please I need to know."

Malin shakes her head, "He says it'll bring you no comfort."

She launches to her feet, nearly knocking over her chair if I hadn't grabbed it with my knight-like reflexes, "Well then remind him that he's dead. That my mom is dead. Remind him that I feel no comfort anyway because they were both taken from me and nobody will tell me the truth about what really happened."

Fern begs on her behalf, "Uncle Dillon... She's right. If you're really there and this isn't just some scam. I've seen it. I've seen her suffering. Answers could only help. There's no way she could be more lost than she already is."

I narrowed my eyes at her. Not because it wasn't true. Of course it was true. Sadbh wasn't the same and she would never be. How do you go back to the way you used to be before something like this happened? You couldn't; she couldn't. There was an innocence lost, a naivety, an ignorant bliss. No, I wasn't staring angrily at Fern because she was wrong. I was staring at her with an edge because she was right.

Malin pauses. Hesitates. "He hears her screams the night she died. Over and over again. Screaming for him to help, begging for the pain to leave. He tries to run to her, to reach her, and to help her, but she's too far away. As soon as he reaches the Maple Tree in your backyard, she goes quiet. He falls to his knees because he knows it's not because the pain is gone but because she is. He knows Yuna was killed because of him, because of HIS curse."

Sadbh falls back down in her chair, "Oh..."

Fern sighs theatrically, "So I was wrong, then... Maybe you didn't need to know that. Nice going, Uncle Dillon. You should've said your punishment was that morbid."

Malin picks at her fingernails, somehow uninterested, somehow uncaring, "He didn't say it. Mistraldaire did. He says your parents died a death of valor."

I try to bite my tongue, but I can't anymore. I just can't. "Like he'd know anything about valor, he sounds like a coward."

The walls rattle and collectible dishes fly off shelves. The planchette zooms from one side of the board to the other, and Malin just smiles at it.

"You can throw dishes at me all you want, it's true! You're the reason they died ~a death of valor~ in the first place. You're the reason her father is being punished like that. You're the reason her mother was in pain when she died. You're the reason the gods hate the Vespers." My voice doesn't crack, nor waver.

Fives grabs my arm, but I shake her off, "Abbotticus--"

I frown down at her, "No, it's true! If you die tomorrow or next month, when you DIE, it'll be all because of him. Because he couldn't handle healing people even though that was his entire power. he wanted to kill people instead. The gods were right to punish him, but to punish you? To punish your parents? To let your father suffer in death like that and your mother who had nothing to do with it? That's fucked up, and more than that, it's not fair. Because he went against the Goddess of Destiny now it's your destiny to pay for a crime you didn't commit?"

Malin smirks scoldingly, I didn't even know that was possible, "Easy, mortal. Don't tempt her. On Halloween of all nights."

"He has a point. but the fact is... None of this is real... It can't be... And even if it is, we're getting out of here. You and me... we won't have their fate, I promise..."

Fern doesn't even sound sure, doesn't even sound like she believes herself or her words. Maybe because she's said it so many times before. Maybe it was a lie she was trying to convince herself was true, only it's not working anymore, maybe it never worked.

"Malin, please. Ask them what happened that night. Ask them who did it. I don't care if I die, if the curse reaches me too. I need to get justice for them, I need to know what happened."

Fern reaches for her across the table but they're too far, "Are you sure?"

I grab her hand for her, "Yeah, Fives. This doesn't seem like it's helping."

Sadbh nods, resolutely. It's what she invited Malin here for after all. "I need to know. It won't help but nothing will. I won't rest until I know."

Malin clears her throat, stares off into the distance, and communicates with those lost, "Well..... He says........ There was a woman... A woman in the road and your mother didn't see her through all the snow..."

A cold wintry air overcomes the room. Frost blossoms on the dishware, snowflakes dance slowly from the ceiling, the walls blur around us, the lights dim until there's only a glow resembling a pale moonlight. My lungs burn at having to adjust to the dramatic dip in temperature. Just as my fingers start trembling with frostbite, Sadbh grabs my fingers and interlocks them. If I wasn't so sure this was all a dream that surely couldn't be real, I would've realized that she must've felt my chill. That's why she wrapped my fingers in her warmth. It had to be.

I'm too busy staring in awe at the shifting reality to notice Malin's mouth falling open, slowly, slowly. Fern screams. I flinch and look at her, only to see her horrified at something happening beside me. That's when I see it; her. Malin frozen in pain, mouth wide open stretching wider and wider, jaw creaking and cracking, eyes bulging. A squeak of pain exits her throat, but she struggles to let it out. Like there's a pressure on her lungs we can't see.

And then, all at once, in the time it takes me to blink, there is no more Malin. Not the Malin as I'd come to know her. '

NEXT PART AVAILABLE╰┈➤ˎˊ˗ HERE

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Thanks for reading! Don't forget to like, reblog, and/or comment if you liked or hated it. Spill the tea. Share your thoughts directly with the source (me.)

[flameswallower]

HEY I HAVE A SHORT STORY COLLECTION COMING OUT IN JANUARY!!!

This will be my first full-length collection of short fiction! It includes a brand new story, several stories that have been previously published but are difficult to find/that I don't think many people have read, and a few stories that you might already know and love from anthologies like The Book Of Queer Saints.

Right now, the publisher is on the lookout for reviewers who might like to receive an ARC! If you're interested, please fill out this form.

[stephenkingporn]

One story deep into You Like It Darker. I just love the way he writes and I love short stories 💛 this was just what I needed this week.

[magnusmadness]

hi TMA/TMAGP fans. if you want to read a book that gives similar vibes to our beloved podcast(s), i recommend Eliza Clark’s She’s Always Hungry, a short story collection in the horror genre that focuses on female desire/hunger.

at the time of posting this i have not yet finished the book (71 pages remaining), but i’ve enjoyed it quite a bit so far and it reminds me very much of certain TMA/TMAGP episodes! as such, i recommend.

let me know if you read!!

[dandelion-wine-in-autumn]

Alan Ryan, Vampires: Two Centuries of Great Vampire Stories

Illustrated by my love, Edward Gorey 🖤

[discoidal]

do u guys have book recs 🧍‍♂️ finally getting out of my reading slump but still mostly rereading.. would love to crack a fresh book open