She was forged to silence the cracks. Now she listens to them. In a desert where petals fall upward and roads ripple with memory, a rogue demon knight kneels beside a forbidden fracture — not to seal it, but to hear what it remembers. The Bloomless Order calls her a traitor. The cracks call her back. When the Blooming Hour begins again, she won’t fight to contain it. She’ll fight to understand it.

The town burned because of me. Explosions split the sky, smoke swallowed everything I loved, and the bridge ahead promised escape—or death. A juggernaut stood in our way, armor unbreakable, laughter shaking the street. When steel shattered and blood hit the ground, I realized this wasn’t survival anymore. It was war.

In the summer of 2004, twin brothers Randall and Russell Adler vanish while hiking the forests of eastern Germany. Their curiosity leads them off-trail to a sealed World War II bunker hidden beneath roots and moss. As the woods grow unnaturally silent, disturbing symbols appear and the bunker reveals signs of rituals far older than the war itself. When Russell enters the final chamber, something awakens. Randall escapes alone, found days later broken and mute, while the forest quietly waits for the next intruder. What survived below was not human, but fed on belief, obedience, and curiosity.

After murdering his wife and children, Jim flees before dawn on a brand-new Harley, chasing speed as a way to outrun guilt. Mile by mile, memories surface—of laughter, ordinary places, and the life he erased. As night falls and the road narrows, the weight he buried catches up to him. A final curve, a moment too late, and the ride ends in silence. Jim’s escape becomes his reckoning, where there is no witness, no forgiveness, and no road left to run.

By day, Travis Lessard is the epitome of success: a rising Wall Street star, polished and precise. By night, he sheds the suit, navigating the city’s shadows with calculated anonymity, exploiting fear and secrecy. His carefully controlled double life begins to fracture as glimpses of his crimes emerge and nightmares haunt him. Pursued by an unseen justice, Travis realizes that discipline can’t shield him forever. After Hours is a tense psychological thriller exploring the dark consequences of living a life in halves.

Marvin takes the overnight shift at the city morgue for extra pay, expecting quiet nights to study. But when the temperature drops and drawers begin to move on their own, he encounters something unnatural—tall, stitched-together, and watching him with empty eyes. Whispers and wet breathing fill the morgue as he realizes the dead are not alone. Trapped, Marvin faces a terrifying truth: the morgue demands a new keeper. By morning, all is in order… except for one drawer, marked with his own name.

Max Shackleford believes suburban life is harmless and predictable—until one quiet night of experimentation fractures reality. A familiar hallway stretches impossibly long, revealing doors glowing with unnatural color. When Max’s friend Jerome opens one, he steps into a vast world hidden beneath the suburb: endless houses, endless half-lived lives. Jerome vanishes, leaving Max trapped in a normal world that no longer feels safe, haunted by the certainty that something vast and watching lies just beyond the walls.

Guy Nevins’ life appears, from the outside, to follow a flawless and inevitable trajectory. A football prodigy in Oklahoma, he becomes a hometown legend before adulthood, the kind of player whose presence alone fills stadiums. At Notre Dame, his reputation deepens; his name is spoken with reverence, weighted by expectation and destiny. When the Minnesota Vikings select him fourth overall in the 1992 NFL Draft, Guy believes his career has unfolded exactly as it was meant to—each triumph a logical step toward professional stardom. That belief fractures the moment he arrives in Minnesota and confronts reality. The Vikings already have a star quarterback entrenched as the starter—efficient, trusted, and beloved. This man embodies stability and success, the very qualities coaches prize and rookies cannot displace easily. For two seasons, Guy languishes on the bench, reduced to holding a clipboard, offering rehearsed smiles, and absorbing commentary about patience and development.

She was forged in ritual, armored in silence, and trained to kill what blooms. > > But now she picks flowers. > > The demon knight walks again.

A crack in the wall widens overnight, exhaling petals and memories that aren’t yours. When something small and hungry slips through, you realize the wall isn’t just breaking — it’s waking up.

Future injuries promised after feelings hurt from losing games like pink elephants where we threw a ball at each others asses and you are out if it hits you as you are posted on the wall, or red Rover when we run through each others arms and break through or break one to get to the other side.

The Deadstream never froze—not in the harshest winters, not when the rest of Morrestown lay silent beneath ice and snow. Its black water slid slowly through the reeds, breathing fog into the trees like a living thing. Locals said the swamp remembered every name ever whispered at its edge. And sometimes, when the mist grew thick and the world went quiet, it whispered those names back

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This book have the following bl,smut,cussing and mention of suicide the main character name is Austin and as you may see his life is a shit hole

Liorah was bred for survival, not belonging. As a scout for a drifting colony ship, she walks worlds before anyone else is allowed to touch them - cataloging life, danger, and the quiet ways planets resist being claimed.

This note offers an exclusive glimpse into the birth of the Celestine Dragons of Mythrendar™️and the darkness from which they were born.

In this note you will find what you can expect from Mythrendar™️and from its creator, Nefarious J.R. Bane

A young man finds himself being chased by a beast. After falling and fearing for what remained of his life, a hunter appears to save the day...or night.

A singed dwarf emerges from the catacombs with news of widening cracks that breathe smoke and flame. Valdis’ cursed sword pulses with hunger. Persephone’s roots twitch with underworld winds. And Medusa’s snakes recoil as the sky darkens unnaturally fast. Something ancient is waking beneath them—older than gods, hungrier than death, and no longer content to stay buried.

If you’re a retail store owner or boutique buyer, you can request our wholesale catalog from The Pirate Dressing, a manufacturer supplying pirate, vintage & steampunk clothing to USA retailers.