Synopsis
With Rick (now almost fully Yvette) tucked away nicely, our spotlight shifts to the star of the night: our dear Doctor Valentine.

Planters Moon
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I should have thought about it. Crops that grow above ground and lie upon it, like watermelons or pumpkins grow best if you plant on a planter’s moon - on the waxing moon, the night before the full moon. Above ground they grow. I should never have buried Lionel Palin on that night.

Bobby

That Thanksgiving was scary and mortifying. Not to mention the horror it all led to.

“Robert Taylor Smith! Where do you think you are going like that?”

The most scary part really came early, already at Halloween. As every teenager knows, hearing your full name expressed in a severe voice by one of one’s parents is not a good sign. Especially when expressed by a father reading with his back towards you.

Add to that I was trying to sneak out dressed in my sister’s cheerleader uniform …. Yes, I had forgotten about the mirror on the wall. Mirror, mirror on the wall tell me who is the kid most in trouble.

Oh, do I have a tale to tell you….

The final day of my life, at least as I had known it up until that point, was a Sunday, which now
seems appropriate, if not a bit ironic.

Synopsis
Rick Longwood was a man who simply couldn't get enough. A bastard who left a trail of broken women in his wake, he thought he was untouchable. Unfortunately for him, one of his recent victims was Dr. Michelle Valentine, our favorite fiery surgeon. Never cross a woman who spent a year feminizing a man and loved it. especially if she has a bit of magic on her side, even if she doesn't know it. Poor Rick is well and truly fucked!

Life Stolen By Mistake

Weird Science Transformations Part 3

Weird Science Transformations

"What do you mean he took your voice? You're speaking just fine now" the officer asked.

I glanced down at the tape recorder that was recording everything I'd said so far. Good, I wouldn't have to tell this story ever again. I don't think I had it in me to relive this tale one more time.

Constant in All Other Things 2
Interlude II (1/3)
by
Fakeminsk ([email protected])
(Patreon: www.patreon.com/fakeminsk)

“Friendship is constant in all other things
Save in the office and affairs of love:
Therefore all hearts in love use their own tongues;
Let every eye negotiate for itself
And trust no agent.”
Much Ado About Nothing

When a mountain downpour forces Lydia and Thomas Thompson into a cavern's shadowy embrace, Lydia's touch upon ancient runic inscriptions awakens her latent power and identity. As they emerge to find the enigmatic town of Sælicbrook—a nexus of realms and magic—Lydia is transformed into her destiny as its guardian. But as the cosmic entity Nyarlathotep stirs, intent on unraveling the threads of reality, will Lydia's newfound power be enough to stand against an eldritch horror bent on devouring all? The battle for existence looms, and only the guardians of Sælicbrook can safeguard the world from the impending darkness. Will they triumph, or will everything they know be consumed by the infinite appetite of the Crawling Chaos?

When a mountain downpour forces Lydia and Thomas Thompson into a cavern's shadowy embrace, Lydia's touch upon ancient runic inscriptions awakens her latent power and identity. As they emerge to find the enigmatic town of Sælicbrook—a nexus of realms and magic—Lydia is transformed into her destiny as its guardian. But as the cosmic entity Nyarlathotep stirs, intent on unraveling the threads of reality, will Lydia's newfound power be enough to stand against an eldritch horror bent on devouring all? The battle for existence looms, and only the guardians of Sælicbrook can safeguard the world from the impending darkness. Will they triumph, or will everything they know be consumed by the infinite appetite of the Crawling Chaos?

Continuing the tradition I started last year of posting a horror story for Hallowe'en.

The Master of Cuts

by

Rodford Edmiston

The city street was covered in filthy, black snow. In normal times they would have been shovelled clean. Now, no one had the energy for it. Narrow paths of packed snow led from doorways to a main path. A painfully thin body lay barely visible under the snow. The person was face down, an arm stretched out, like they were crawling for safety.

The Witcher Series is copyright by Andrzej Sapkowski. This story is licensed under creative commons and derivative non-commercial fiction.