Mother's Dress
A police officer knocks on a door and is greeted by a man wearing his mother’s dress, a man who has never felt more alive.
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A police officer knocks on a door and is greeted by a man wearing his mother’s dress, a man who has never felt more alive.
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A widower keeps his yearly appointment with a government-issued resurrection of his late husband: one night a year, in the barn where they were married
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For the past nine years, Zayan has spent Furlough’s Eve with his dead husband. The face isn’t quite right, but everything else is exactly Jaxel. Their tenth night of Furlough will be just like the others. Won’t it?
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Something wicked is afoot-foot-footing where no one seeking daylight is a-looking. Has apocalypse forsook me? How does a soul bloom a single—or even sometimes two—of the thorny wicked rose? Isn’t it, though, particularly peculiar, looking down from up below?
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A grieving man desperate to speak with the dead sets out in search of an orchard that exists only in local legend.
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A woman receives an unmarked package containing the face she’s always wanted.
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A boy wakes in a dark sewer. He’s disoriented, alone, and shin-deep in a black, viscous current beneath a city he doesn’t remember.
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After the end of everything, the boy stayed hidden from the light. Something waited in the dark—a voice, calm and close, that never asked for anything but quiet. Each night, it returned. Each night, it whispered. And in time, the dark no longer felt empty.
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“Where would you like them left?” I ask, keeping my voice steady. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t even turn to me. I shift my grip, the weight of them suddenly unbearable as the silence between us stretches, heavy. Suffocating.
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Void Echoes S01E09: Desperate to quench my thirst, I drink from a strange puddle near a peculiar, talkative tree.
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It's too late to wake...The Voidspire has you now.
You've joined a cult. Yes, this is a cult. Oh what a nightmare!
You! Of all people! What would your mother say?
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You may think this happened against your will, but I assure you, it didn’t. You agreed when I lured you in with my charm, a gift or your own curiosity. Whatever. Who keeps track? What's important is you're stuck here. This tale is endless and you're part of my story now.Â
You're about to find yourself where every Unboundling begins: an entry-level Lürkmire with dark aspirations of rising through the ranks. Feel free to complete your profile or leave it blank, we've no profile completion expectation---actually, there's two rules here...the first is, don't get overwhelmed. I will be around to answer all of your questions along the way. You're in my netherscape now but I won't let any harm come to you...probably...the second rule is: keep Him everdreaming, placid, coiled and always endless sleeping.
Welcome to the Voidspire Consortium
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Don’t care to be immortalized as the protagonist in one of my wicked tales?
...well, I assume I don’t have to explain how to close a browser window. Run along if that's the case.