The leader whimpered, bleeding, as Kelo slammed him to his knees. Jakari crouched, black eyes fixed, and the man flinched under his touch. “Who sent you?” Jakari asked, calm, precise. “Star… a woman,” he stammered. Asia yelled, “Kill him!” Kelo shook his head, but I held up my hand. “No,” I said. “We send a message. He goes back to her.” Jakari brushed the glowing mark on his face. “The second one,” he said. And for the first time, I realized—we weren’t just surviving. We were ready to fight.

This one will run longer than 10 mins, and can be one hell of a scare. this will be interesting to see what directors do with it

oh boy this one will be comical as all heck.. though i would like to see someone take it to the dark side.. the choice is yours

Can you let go? it might be harder than you think. Film this one any way you wish and in any setting you can imagine

what happens when 3 friends continue to play poker after one of them dies?... this might be funny or scary

This one can be filmed as is, or changed to a swimming pool, a field, or old barn. the choice is yours

I write because some truths don’t survive silence. If I don’t put them down, they disappear—and I refuse to let that happen.

Fire tore through the council hall as the floor split open. Souls screamed as Azrathion climbed from the breach, flames crowning his horns. Soldiers fell to their knees, bleeding, laughing, breaking. Chains meant to bind gods wrapped around him—and failed. “I was your executioner,” he roared, fire shaking stone. “Your sin made flesh.” Star did not flinch. “He can bring Jakari alive,” she said. “And if he betrays you—I’ll kill him myself.”

Alice finally fulfills her dream of owning a secluded coastal home on the Vineyard, a “legacy property” with centuries of history. At first, the house charms her with sunlight and creaking floors, but soon she hears strange tapping beneath the cellar. Nightmares of rising water and something pressing from below grow more vivid. The house isn’t just old—it’s alive with secrets, holding something in, waiting. Terrified, Alice flees, realizing some homes are never meant to be lived in.

Daniel Crowe knows the woods, but one night they turn against him. When the forest falls into an unnatural silence, he realizes he is no longer the hunter but the observed. A massive, unknowable creature emerges—unhurried, curious, unstoppable. Gunshots fail, escape is an illusion, and survival is never the point. Days later, officials blame bears, but hunters whisper of places where the air reeks of iron and rot, where footsteps follow patiently. Some things don’t chase. They don’t need to.

Veronica Hale becomes obsessed with a missing-child poster at her local market—because the girl looks exactly like her. Same face. Same scar. Same name. As Veronica uncovers a decades-old cold case, her own past begins to fracture: unanswered questions about her adoption, a father who refuses to explain, and visions of the child following her through reflections and dreams. When the poster changes and Veronica herself is listed as missing, she realizes the truth is not trying to be found—it is trying to come back.

Twenty-five-year-old Lisa Huntington pushes too far into the winter woods of northern Maine when her snowmobile dies and the trail disappears beneath fresh snow. With no signal, failing strength, and daylight fading, she presses on as the forest grows tighter and the silence turns watchful. Tracks appear. Sounds follow. By nightfall, Lisa learns the wilderness is not empty, not forgiving—and once it claims something, it never gives it back.

Born minutes apart in 1843, twins Jacob and Jack Underwood are separated by fate and raised on opposite sides of a divided nation. One grows into a Confederate soldier loyal to home and soil; the other becomes a Union man devoted to preserving the nation. Neither knows the other lives—until Gettysburg. Amid smoke and chaos, they come face to face, identical strangers bound by blood and circumstance. In a war that demands loyalty above all else, the brothers must choose between duty and kinship, proving that survival often leaves the deepest wounds.

Join the twin Witches, Yeta and Yater, as they venture out to find a demon to seed their perfect child. Part of a series of short stories that make up the Anataya Chronicles. Story contains mature subject matter. With that, enjoy.

By his sixth summer on the route, ice cream man Walter Sloan has learned that cruelty, once tolerated, only grows louder. When a group of local children push him too far on his final day in Alton Bay, a quiet, irreversible lesson follows. What happens leaves no sirens, no official answers, and a town permanently altered. As streets are renamed and memories suppressed, Alton Bay relearns silence, restraint, and fear. Temple Street is a dark meditation on patience, vengeance, and the cost of looking away—because some lessons, once learned, never fade.

Kevin Shaw, a veteran diver, believes the ocean is governed by rules he understands—until an anniversary dive in the Florida Keys reveals something that should not exist. Beneath shallow, familiar waters, Kevin and his wife Carroll discover a massive, ancient structure that feels less like a ruin and more like a boundary. When it stirs, the sea itself turns hostile, forcing a desperate escape. They survive, but awareness lingers below. The ocean has noticed them, and it does not forget.

For twenty years, zoo janitor Zane Morales watches animals pace themselves into the dirt, carving grooves of confinement that mirror his own quiet unraveling. As repetition and neglect harden into obsession, Zane begins to believe the animals understand something humans refuse to see. On a crowded summer afternoon, he makes a deliberate choice that turns routine into reckoning. When cages open and order collapses, the zoo becomes a mirror of human cruelty and animal instinct, and Zane finally steps out of the circle—leaving behind silence, blood, and a groove that slowly fills in.

The airport was a graveyard frozen between fire and ash. Smoke twisted into the sky, planes lay melted on the tarmac, bodies scorched and lifeless. No sirens, no help—just silence. I felt them—faint whispers of trapped souls—but I shoved the voices away, hiding my gift. Jakari’s eyes never left me as I sketched shadows and chained figures, symbols I barely understood. “Who are these?” he asked. I swallowed. “I don’t know… I just see them.” Something was coming. Something close. And we weren’t ready.

Smoke and ash curled around Star as she walked the burning town. Her soldiers fell silent behind her. The broken soldier Jakari had thrown to the ground before her. “We failed, my Lady… Posida is gone,” he stammered. Star’s boot struck him, hard. “Take him to the town hall,” she said. Inside, seven towering Masters watched. “What do you offer?” the Leader asked. Star held the black-pulsing heart. “Azrathion’s,” she said. The Last Warrant stirred in chains, eyes locking on her. “You release me… for what?” His voice rolled like thunder. Star’s answer: “Jakari.” And in that moment, the Last Warrant rose. The hunt began.

In this note we dive into the wonder and world of the Stygianus Tribe. The galactic travelers of Mythrendar™️