The Right Hand of the Devil, Part 3 of 3?
By Melanie E.

Du Bist Sehr Schön

A collection of 12 short, short stories from 12 different voices in TG fiction. Hit play and let them transport you from the world as it is now to fairy castles and dystopian futures and back again, and introduce you to gods, daemons, cross-dressers and criminals and much more.

I was accosted last night while in a hospital by an employee. I thought I would be safe there. These are my feelings.

An old story of mine from 1997, Are We Not Men? is an obvious homage to H.G.Wells The Island of Dr. Moreau - with a TG twist, of course. As with Embers, this is submitted in it's original form, warts and all. Please enjoy this Halloween treat.

WayZim.
October 31, 2013

Stepping towards the phantom as it enveloped him, he swung in a motion that would have split any physical entity into three pieces - yet he hit nothing but air. 'Twas not air that clawed through his cloak, however; deep gashes appeared on his chest, and he was thrown ten paces from where he stood.

This is an adaptation of the Robert E. Howard short story, Skulls In The Stars. The adaptation has a TG twist. Please check out Howard's original story (to see the story told by the master!) at en.wikisource.org.

Ah, hello there. 'Moan' here again. I'm the keeper of the House of Sighs, the place for Sigh's eerie/spooky/weird tales. Boy, do we have tale for you today. A fantasy story, set sometime in the early 1700's, at a mythical place. Ladies, you've heard to watch out for strange men when you're out alone at night? Well, this yarn turns the tables on the guys ... heh heh heh...

“Wwhatt’ss hhappennedd to uuusss?” gurgled Marjorie. “Iiimmm a mmonnssterrr!”

“You’re lucky, Hayden. At least you’re still completely human,” moaned goatboy Jocko.

“Yeah. A weak, cold, naked, female human. My life just rocks,” I spat.

	The House of Sighs Demon's Deception by **Sigh** Copyright © 2013 plaintivesigh All Rights Reserved.

Hello and Welcome to the House of Sighs. Sigh couldn’t be here, so she left me in charge. You can call me … Moan. The House is the new repository for any and all stories by Sigh that are creepy … or eerie … or horrific. No romance here, nor humor. See, Sigh used to read comic anthologies like the “House of Mystery” and “The Witching Hour”, and she loved the stories. This one, for example, is a TG adaptation of one of those stories — a “fanfeast”, if you will. I mean, “fanfiction”. Sorry, I’m getting a little hungry. So please read the story, and afterwards, I’d love to have you for dinner … heh heh heh …

Rights reserved by author

Rights reserved by author

Rights reserved by author

Rights reserved by author, permission granted to Big Closet

When They Came ....

Author’s note. This one is pretty dark. Read with care ....

We live in a world where emotions can lift people from their sorrows as easily as drown them within. They cause you to strive for something better or hold you back, wielding control both unmeasurable and unmistakable. But what if, for some, emotions held a tangible power, if they could use the emotions of the world for their own benefit? What is the chance that someone would abuse that gift?

We live in a world where emotions can lift people from their sorrows as easily as drown them within. They cause you to strive for something better or hold you back, wielding control both unmeasurable and unmistakable. But what if, for some, emotions held a tangible power, if they could use the emotions of the world for their own benefit? What is the chance that someone would abuse that gift?

We live in a world where emotions can lift people from their sorrows as easily as drown them within. They cause you to strive for something better or hold you back, wielding control both unmeasurable and unmistakable. But what if, for some, emotions held a tangible power, if they could use the emotions of the world for their own benefit? What is the chance that someone would abuse that gift?

This Is Exile

Just how exactly does a house become haunted?

A sort of prequel to 'There Was A Wizard In My Room', 'Haunt These Halls' & 'id'.

Do not read this expecting a nice short telling. Notice the genre and the CAUTION!

A Bride’s head, visited

Author's note: This is what happens when you visit the more strange parts of my brain. You have been warned ...

Caution: The following story from my muse is bent in a really bad way. Just never and I repeat never wonder what would happen IF..

It was the dead of night as the young catholic schoolgirl skipped across the parking lot. The old asphalt with its many cracks was still giving off heat from the long hot summers day. She carried nothing but what looked to be a small fashionable purse with her. It was very late to see such a schoolgirl out on a Wednesday night. There was not to be a holiday the next day nor on the Friday following. For the few older teen boys hanging out behind the old abandoned theater she was a tempting piece of meat.

My name is Bob Samson it has been that way since the day I was born contrary to what certain other people might think.

The Midnight Society were a group of friends who met in the woods to tell stories around a campfire, but after three generations, no one was left to carry the torch. They fell into urban legend, until Kristina decided to resurrect the traditions with a story of her own.

Life was hard for Kristina ever since her return to school as a girl. She was ready to try anything, but would a scary story really be enough to win over her peers?