Sunday, 15 October 2017

#OctoberFrights Dark Poetry Corner


Welcome to final day of the October Frights Blog Hop!


Today I bring you my annual dark Poetry Corner, and a spotlight on my newly released book, Horror Haiku Pas de Deux. Oh, and a freebie. Enjoy. 


First a poetic teaser...



Second a spotlight...



Horror Haiku Pas de Deux by A. F. Stewart







In the shadows—voices.
Calling, screaming, moaning.
Countless tongues telling tales...
of Hell
of Monsters
and Unnatural Things

Come chase the dark words, fall into the spell of terror and sit with the poetic weaver as you watch the world burn. Horror Haiku Pas de Deux is a volume of poetry mixing horror with haiku and verse to chill your bones.
Poetic beauty lives forever with the undead.


Horror Haiku Pas de Deux is available all October for 99 Cents at


Smashwords  Amazon  Amazon Canada  Kobo  Barnes and Noble  iTunes 




Book Trailer




And now some poems...







He watches, he waits
Do you see him? He sees you.
Soon you will vanish


From Horror Haiku Pas de Deux
© A. F. Stewart
All Rights Reserved




Ever More


Tap, tap, come the raven,
no, it is not him
He flies far above the path
as the light grows ever dim

Flee, flee, into the woods
ignore the raven’s caw
Hear the silent monster march
to the cavern in the maw

Shush, shush, quiet now
the raven circles here
The Faerie Queen calls for you
and all that you hold dear


From Horror Haiku Pas de Deux
© A. F. Stewart
All Rights Reserved








The Sound of Their Breathing

I watch the world inhale, exhale
each fragile breath so slight;
simple to asphyxiate, faces turning pale
I watch the world inhale, exhale
dreaming how to make them quail,
to quiver in fear, to scurry in flight
I watch the world inhale, exhale
each fragile breath so slight



From Horror Haiku and Other Poems
© A. F. Stewart
All Rights Reserved






Play a Tune Nevermore

Eagles fly
from the labyrinth
of darkened halls
chased by ravens
and a mournful dirge.


© A. F. Stewart
All Rights Reserved



And lastly, the freebie... 

You can download my first volume of horror poetry, Horror Haiku and Other Poems from Instafreebie (no strings or conditions).

Horror Haiku and Other Poems





Well that's it for my Dark Poetry Corner and the October Frights Blog Hop. Be sure to enter our great giveaway and visit the other wonderful participants on this last day. Until next year!


October Frights Book Giveaway!

a Rafflecopter giveaway


Saturday, 14 October 2017

#OctoberFrights: Cemeteries and the Ghost of Marie Laveau



Welcome to Day Five of the October Frights Blog Hop!


I have a most delightful treat for you today, with a guest post from author Loren Roads who takes us to New Orleans with a tour of Saint Louis Cemetery #1 and its most famous resident, Marie Laveau. You can also check out her book, 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die, featured at the end of the post. Enjoy!


Marie Laveau’s Ghost by Loren Rhoads




Like the cathedral in Jackson Square, New Orleans’ oldest surviving graveyard is named for Louis IX, the 13th-century king of France. He crusaded to the Holy Land twice and was canonized in 1297.

Despite its historic importance, Saint Louis Cemetery #1 is only a shadow of its former self. The Varney family pyramid, now near the cemetery’s Basin Street gate, once stood at the geographic center of the graveyard. Built around 1810, the pyramid is one of the oldest tombs to survive.

Some of the most unusual aspects of Saint Louis #1 are the so-called oven vaults that line its perimeter. The niches in these tombs can be reused after a year and a day. The extreme heat and humidity in New Orleans reduces a corpse placed in one of these vaults to bones within the span of a year, after which time a second coffin can be pushed inside. The back of the vault opens into a chamber called a caveau, where the bones of everyone buried in that vault reside, jumbled together. In the city’s earliest days, there was no division between black and white in its graveyards or its caveaus. Segregation began only after America made the Louisiana Purchase in 1803.

The most famous resident of Saint Louis #1 is Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen. Marie was a free woman of color born in New Orleans around 1801. In August 1819, she married Jacques Parris in a Roman Catholic ceremony. When he died seven years later, she began a relationship with Christophe Glapion that lasted the rest of her life. Together, Marie and Christophe had 15 children. Marie died on June 15, 1881.

Before her death, Marie worked as a hairdresser in New Orleans. She is credited with drawing the parallels between the Catholic saints and Voodoo loas and combining Voodoo with Catholicism. It’s said that Marie appears in the cemetery in the form of a large black crow or as a phantom hellhound. She grants wishes, sometimes, when it suits her.

Many believe Marie returns to life on Saint John’s Eve, which is celebrated on June 23. In the 1930s, a vagrant decided to spend the night in Saint Louis #1. He scaled a tomb and slept fitfully on its roof for several hours before being awakened by the sound of drums and chanting. As he wandered the labyrinthine cemetery, looking for the way out, he turned a corner to find ectoplasmic bodies writhing before a statuesque nude woman wrapped in a giant snake. Marie, in all her splendor, had come back to lead the dance.

Another evening, three young men who had been partying in the French Quarter dared each other to break into the cemetery and drive an iron spike into Marie Laveau’s tomb. Finally, after $30 had been held up as a reward, one man agreed. He jumped the wall and disappeared into the maze of tombs.

Half an hour passed. An hour. The men left behind began to sober up. They cursed their friend, whom they expected had fallen asleep somewhere inside the graveyard. When dawn came and the gates finally opened, they rushed into the cemetery, ready to rouse their comrade.

Instead, they found his corpse collapsed beside Marie Laveau’s tomb.

The dead man had hammered his iron spike into the tomb — through the tail of his coat. When he rose to collect his winnings, something unseen held him to the grave. He died in a panic.







St. Louis Cemetery #1 is one of the 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die by Loren Rhoads. She is also the author of Wish You Were Here: Adventures in Cemetery Travel and writes about graveyards for the Horror Writers Association. She blogs about cemeteries as vacation destinations at cemeterytravel.com.












199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die by Loren Rhoads



A hauntingly beautiful travel guide to the world's most visited cemeteries, told through spectacular photography and their unique histories and residents.

More than 3.5 million tourists flock to Paris's Père Lachaise cemetery each year. They are lured there, and to many cemeteries around the world, by a combination of natural beauty, ornate tombstones and crypts, notable residents, vivid history, and even wildlife. Many also visit Mount Koya cemetery in Japan, where 10,000 lanterns illuminate the forest setting, or graveside in Oaxaca, Mexico to witness Day of the Dead fiestas. Savannah's Bonaventure Cemetery has gorgeous night tours of the Southern Gothic tombstones under moss-covered trees that is one of the most popular draws of the city.

199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die features these unforgettable cemeteries, along with 196 more, seen in more than 300 photographs. In this bucket list of travel musts, author Loren Rhoads, who hosts the popular Cemetery Travel blog, details the history and features that make each destination unique. Throughout will be profiles of famous people buried there, striking memorials by noted artists, and unusual elements, such as the hand carved wood grave markers in the Merry Cemetery in Romania.


You can find 199 Cemeteries to See Before You Die at:






That's it for day five, be back tomorrow for the final day and my dark poetry corner. And don't forget to enter our giveaway and check out the other hop participants.








Friday, 13 October 2017

#OctoberFrights: The 13: Tales of Illusory


Welcome to Day Four of the October Frights Blog Hop on this wonderful Friday the 13th!


Today, not only do I have October Frights, but the blog has joined the The 13: Tales of Illusory Blog Tour!


As part of that tour I'm spotlighting both book and author, so check out The 13: Tales of Illusory by Stephanie Ayers...




The 13: Tales of Illusory by Stephanie Ayers






Can you survive all 13?

13 enchanted horrors. 13 spine-chilling tales. Down, down in the depths they fell, bodies in the dark of a liquid hell. Can you survive all 13?


You can find The 13: Tales of Illusory at: 







Here's a teaser from one of the book's stories, On the Ninth Day

Four sets of eyes stared at Cassidy through her curtains. They hovered there, in the shade of the tall trees that surrounded her domain. Ever since she found the severed head of Mimir, the last of Odin’s magical artifacts, and unlocked Odin’s 18th song, they’d been there—two ravens and two wolves. The severed head’s prediction of death scared her enough, but now the animals visited her dreams as well and kept her awake at night...


About the Author



A published author with a knack for twisted tales, Stephanie Ayers is the Executive Creative Director of OWS Ink, LLC, a community for writers and readers alike. She loves a good thriller, fairies, things that go bump in the night, and sappy stories. When she is not writing, she can be found in Creative Cloud designing book covers and promotional graphics for authors.

Stephanie Ayers is a published speculative fiction author, full-time world-building ninja, and graphic designer from central Virginia crafting her own story and resisting adulthood at all costs. She mothers her children, two cats, and a pitbull; neglects housework as often as possible; loves her husband; and avoids all things zombies.

Stephanie has been a regular contributor and leader for Bloggy Moms and Just Be Enough and currently writes content for Our Write Side.

Bannerwing Books published her debut novella, Til Death Do Us Part, in 2013, and her work appears in several anthologies and collections, most notably The 13: Tales of Illusory, a collection of her short and scary stories. Her poetry has been published in Ambrosia, in magazines and literary journals.

Her favorite quote is: "The blank page is a canvas on which the writer paints a story."-Stephanie Ayers

You can find her on:



A Few of Her Favorite Things:


Favorite Books: The Stand, Divergent, Through the Looking Glass, The Forgotten Garden, and Inkheart.

Favorite Songs: Anyway by Martina McBride, Chasing Cars by Soul Patrol, Dream On by Aerosmith, Nothing Else Matters by Metallica, Shape of You by Ed Sheeran and Maroon 5

Favorite Movies: Hope Floats, Divine Secrets of the Yaya Sisterhood, The Messengers, The Wizard of Oz, Mary Poppins

Favorite Foods: pizza, pasta, ice cream, chips, second breakfasts

Favorite TV Shows: Chicago Fire, Chicago PD, Law & Order SVU, The Voice, This Is Us



Here are a list of the stops for The 13: Tales of Illusory tour:





And now for our October Fright book Giveaway.




For more of the October Frights Blog Hop check out these sites.




Thursday, 12 October 2017

#OctoberFrights: After Death



Welcome to Day Three of the October Frights Blog Hop.


Today I have two flash fiction stories about death, and the consequences about lingering beyond your allotted time. Enjoy...




Leftover

I died yesterday.
A heart attack, I think. I remember a pain in my chest, down my arm, and not much else. I saw a flash of a hospital, maybe an operating room, and a voice saying, “time of death, 11:04 AM”.
That’s when I woke up here.
In my own bed.
Yet… it’s not the same place.
It is so silent here, a vast empty nothing of stillness. And I have no voice. I can’t talk, I can’t cry, I can’t even scream. The world around me is painted in shades of grey, a shrouded space of perpetual twilight. The air is cold and heavy, and it feels like it’s pressing on me.
I can see the other world, the world of the living I suppose, like watching through dirty glass. I can see my husband crying when he’s alone. I think I can reach out and touch him. I know I can, I can feel it. I want to reach out… I need to reach out…
He’s right there.
Waiting.
I need to feed.
I’m so, so hungry.

~*~




  
Eternal

Death hates me.
Why else would I still be here? Waiting.
When I’m finally ready.
Perhaps it’s my own fault, a taste of my own feckless behavior. So many times I smiled at him, made him wait for me, promised I would come to him. Then I slipped by him with a smile, another deal for more years, another life stolen to prolong mine.
How many millennia did I cheat him of what I owed?
I lost count. I’d wager he knows.
I thought forever would never get stale.
I had such hubris.
Youth and beauty for eternity, laughing at Death as he chased me.
Always winning.
Always laughing.
Until it stopped being amusing.
I thought the game would last.
I thought he loved me.
Until he refused to play anymore.
Now I am alone.
Waiting for Death.
Why won’t he come for me?



© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 



Don't forget to enter the giveaway!


October Frights Book Giveaway!





And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.


Wednesday, 11 October 2017

The Return of Drabble Wednesday: #OctoberFrights Edition



Welcome to Day Two of the October Frights Blog Hop!


And the return of my Drabble Wednesday Feature!

Yes, those 100 word stories are back, creeping into your mind like oozing blood. Enjoy my trio of macabre tales, of strange things lurking in the night...




The Hags

The Hags, that’s what the locals called it. The spot on the river where three gnarled trees grew, all bent and twisted like crones, half-dead and barren. An eyesore in the light of day, but in the moonlight the trees held beauty.
They held something else in the moonlight as well.
My two sisters and I.
We’re tied to the trees, you see, and the moon. Our magic bound to the spot where we died.
Where we were murdered.
They buried our bones under the roots, but our spirits...
Well, soon we’ll be returning to the land of the living.


~*~






The Price of Tranquility

The water of the canal is still, reflecting the pale moonlight and the illuminated clouds. The rows of houses are silent, their inhabitants drifting in dreams and hushed slumber. On the surface all is peaceful.
But only on the surface.
It has been ever so in this city, for a darkness lingers beneath the serene beauty. Under the still calm of the water danger lurks. Creatures old, and hungry, nesting in the depths of the canals, watching the world above.
Waiting.
Until they see what they need. An unwary human, the solitary one, the one who disappears beneath the water. 

~*~





No One Loves A Clown

Are you out there?
Somewhere past the dark?
I can hear you.
It’s so cold here, so cold. I can’t even cry anymore; my tears are frozen.
I’ve been here so long. Trapped in the cold and dark.
I know you can hear me. I know you are out there.
Is it a dream? Maybe. But you can still help me. Come a little closer.
That’s right, let me see you.
No wait, don’t run.
Clowns aren’t scary. Really.
We just want to be loved.
Closer, that’s it.
Aw, don’t scream.
You’ll like it here with me, and the others.


~*~

© A. F. Stewart 2017 All Rights Reserved 



And if you'd like to read more of my horror stories I have a free offering for you. Just sign up to my newsletter on Instafreebie and download the two book box set of my Killers and Demons series.









Or enter the giveaway for a chance to win my books and more!



October Frights Book Giveaway!





And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.


Tuesday, 10 October 2017

Welcome to the #OctoberFrights Blog Hop and Dusk's Warriors!

Today begins the first day of the October Frights Blog Hop!



I have a week of delights for you, as do all the are lovely authors along this dark path known as October Frights. To kick things off, I have a peek at Emerian Rich's new vampire book, Dusk’s Warriors (we are also a stop on her Blog Tour) and an excerpt.

Take it away Emerian...


Since this is a horror crowd, I thought I’d share a particularly horrifying scene from my new novel Dusk’s Warriors.

Would you agree to do the Devil’s bidding if he presented you with a choice?

Pain or compliance?


Excerpt from Dusk’s Warriors



“I see. You’re fed up. You want out. You need some convincing.” Satan smiled, double rows of sharpened teeth gleaming in the dim light. “I can be very convincing.”
Darkness grew in around them and the room spun. When light returned, they were in a different place. A deep pit stretched out before them with hundreds of bodies writhing in razor wire. The victims tried desperately to leave, to sit up, to extricate themselves from the wire, but could not. Bodies—bloodied and raw—undulated in the pit of hopelessness. Those that lay still appeared asleep or dead. Moans and screams echoed in the hot chamber. Ripping skin and puss-filled sores consumed Ridge’s vision as he wondered, could he withstand such pain?
“Convinced yet?”
Ridge couldn’t say a thing. He stood staring at the struggling bodies as they continued to fight their way out.
Something bit him on his right forearm and he moved his jacket sleeve up to see what it was. A rip in his skin ached and bled. Some sort of metal object protruded from the wound. Ridge plucked it from his skin, but it didn’t come free easily. Something was attached to it and seemed to drag along his bone as he pulled. Yanking harder on the piece sent waves of pain throughout his arm and body. An inhuman moan escaped him as the object tore at the inside of his arm. The cord attached, didn’t seem to end.
“Stop this!” Ridge yelled.
“It’s only one piece on one location of your body. Think if you were in it all day and all night, forever. Think of the pain. Think of the agony. Think of the places it…might…creep.”
Sharp prickles shot through Ridge’s groin and backside.
“Stop! Stop!”
“Still want to give up our deal?”
“No, stop!”
“Say it.”
“Say what?”
“Say you’ll do whatever I ask to settle us up.”
Although in immense pain, Ridge hesitated. The statement “whatever I ask” seemed too wide for him. What if it turned into an unending life sentence?
The pain increased, shooting through his right leg, making him fall to one knee.
“Okay, okay!”
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll get you another soul.”
The devil smiled, placing his hand on Ridge’s shoulder. Sharp claws dug into his shoulder blade as the room dimmed. The pit and tortured souls disappeared and the light increased. They were back in Satan’s office. Stepping around Ridge to his desk, the devil sat in his chair, putting his feet up on the desk.
“Now, let’s have a coffee, shall we?”
The pain in Ridge’s limbs subsided, allowing him to stand without further trauma to his nervous system.
“Yeah,” Ridge said as he sat in an office chair, wiping sweat and blood from his brow.




Dusk’s Warriors by Emerian Rich



Heaven has opened up and welcomed the vampires of Night’s Knights into a new reality. As they struggle to find their place in their new world, trouble brews on Earth.

Demon servant, Ridge, is causing havoc by gathering up all the souls on Earth that have been touched by immortality. When he injures one of the Night’s Knights crew, he launches a war between the vampires of Heaven, the Big Bad in Hell, and a mortal street gang of vigilante misfits.

Will Julien, Markham, and Reidar be able to defeat the evil that’s returned, or will they once again need Jespa’s help?



Praise for Dusk’s Warriors:

“All hail, the queen of Night's Knights has returned! Emerian Rich's unique take on vampires delights my black little heart.” ~Dan Shuarette, Lilith's Love

“A world of horror with realistic characters in a fast paced thriller you won't be able to put down.”
~David Watson, The All Night Library

Praise for Night’s Knights: 
“Fresh, original, and thoroughly entertaining.” ~Mark Eller, Traitor

“Emerian brought the Vampire Novel back from the dead.” ~C. E. Dorsett, Shine Like Thunder


Available now at Amazon.com in print and eBook





Emerian Rich is an artist, horror host, and author of the vampire series, Night’s Knights. She is the hostess of the internationally acclaimed podcast, HorrorAddicts.net. Under the name Emmy Z. Madrigal, she writes the musical romance series, Sweet Dreams and she’s the Editorial Director for the Bay Area magazine, SEARCH. She lives in the San Francisco Bay Area with her husband and son.





Be sure to check out the other stops on the Dusk's Warriors Blog Tour


But first check out our giveaway.


October Frights Book Giveaway




And for more October Frights fun check out the other sites on the hop.




Monday, 9 October 2017

The October Frights Blog Hop Preview



Tomorrow begins the wondrous spookfest that is the October Frights Blog Hop. For the next six days, from the 10th-15th, I'll be posting about horror books, sharing creepy stories and poems, and bringing you a cemetery guest post. This year's theme on my blog is Things That Go Bump In The Night.


Here's the schedule.



Day 1, Oct 10 –A book spotlight on Dusk's Warriors by Emerian Rich

Day 2, Oct 11 –The Return of Drabble Wednesday: October Frights Edition

Day 3, Oct 12 – Two flash fiction stories under the theme, After Death

Day 4, Oct 13 –An author and book spotlight on The 13: Tales of Illusory by Stephanie Ayers

Day 5, Oct 14 –A guest post by Loren Rhoads on cemeteries and the ghost of Marie Laveau. 

Day 6, Oct 15 –My Dark Poetry Corner and a Horror Haiku Pas de Deux book spotlight



There's also a Giveaway.



And on the 10th, here's who will be joining in the fun with me.
So come on back tomorrow and walk the dark path.







Tuesday, 12 September 2017

Cover Reveal: Londinium (P.A.W.S. Saga 4)

Today I have a delightful treat for you, my minions, with the reveal of the brand new book cover for the next book in the P.A.W.S. Saga, Londinium. This book series is paranormal fantasy and is written by the talented author, Debbie Manber Kupfer.

The cover was created by the hugely talented Rachel Bostwick who also made the cover for the new box set of P.A.W.S. books (1 to 3) that is now available on Amazon.


So, without further ado, drum roll please...


londinium


Isn't that a terrific cover?


The P.A.W.S. Saga continues with Londinium.


Here's little snippet from the book.

“The pea soup has spoken,” said Caradog. “You are destined for Londinium.”
“Londinium?” asked Miri.
“It was the ancient city from which London sprang. The P.A.W.S. Institute of Londinium is the oldest in the world. It started before the city of today existed and straddles the old and the new.
Unfortunately, today it is run by a fool.”

Join Miri as she continues her journey through Umbrae and Londinium with the help of werecats, wild warlocks, an old dog, a duck, and a whole lot of pea soup.




Need to catch up?

 You can do that all in one place with a brand new box set of books 1 to 3.


box set


Thursday, 7 September 2017

Horror Bites: Alice's Scars

Today I bring you a featured book spotlight from HorrorAddicts.net with an Alice-inspired story by Adam L. Bealby. Enjoy...



HorrorAddicts.net launches its Horror Bites series!



Horror Bites: Alice’s Scars by Adam L. Bealby




When he met Alice, he wasn't prepared to go down the rabbit hole. His love for her pushes him into the uncomfortable realization she might be mad. He wants to keep her safe, but what if that’s not what Alice wants?


“Adam Bealby has written a mini masterpiece that explores mental illness, drug addiction, and real life horror.”



~David Watson, The All-Night Library




Horror Bites: Alice’s Scars




******************************************************

A look inside…

Alice’s Scars

BY ADAM L. BEALBY

When I first met her she was Katie, soon to be Alice. It was her first day at Uni, my second, and her scars intrigued me. They lined her cheeks like tribal markings and the way she caked her face in foundation, you could tell they were forever on her mind. It helped, of course, that she was a beautiful Goth girl. I wanted to save her, share her pain, kiss her, and fuck her, too. I asked her what she kept in the drawstring purse around her neck.
“Money,” she said dismissively, turning away to talk to someone else at the bar.
She disappeared soon after. I only found out later how drunk she got, how she spent the rest of the night over a toilet bowl with Jackie holding her hair clear of her mouth. Her first and last run-in with alcohol. Alice had too much else going on in her life to get any more screwed up.
I dogged her all through freshers’ week. Instead of dorms, she’d been accommodated in a little house just off campus. A new friend I met lived there too, so it was an easy thing to fall in with her motley crew, drawn together by circumstance as we were. I became a regular in their kitchen, smoking weed and trying too hard—as we all did—to be quirky and cool.
We struck up conversation over a jar of pesto. I didn’t know what it was and she couldn’t believe it. I strung it out, made it appear I was more ignorant than I actually was, and I got her laughing. When I said her pesto looked like rabbit food she blushed, right through all that paint and powder.
“You don’t know the first thing about rabbits,” she said, and she showed me what was in her drawstring purse. It was a tiny white rabbit’s foot. It freaked me out and yet I felt even more attracted to her. It was my in, a secret shared. Looking at the severed foot I felt myself getting hard and I had to sit down for fear she’d notice.
She ran away that evening. We were all stoned and a bit drunk, talking about our parents, being glib, critical, or overly generous. She burst into tears and ran out of the kitchen and into the night, not even bothering to put her shoes on. We made an extravagant show of hunting for her, shouting her name up and down the street. Pete the Poet, as we later christened him, came out to help from next door. The way John shouted Katie’s name in his Irish accent, Pete thought we’d lost a cat. We had a good laugh about that.
But it wasn’t funny when we found Katie. She was hunkered down by the bushes on a bit of common area at the end of the row.
“Katie? What are you looking for?” I asked as we gathered round in a concerned hub.
“He was here,” she muttered. She’d been pawing at the dirt. Her fingers were black. “I saw him, but he got away from me.”
“Who was here, Katie?”
She looked up. The glare from a passing car lent her eyes a lustrous sheen.
“Alice. Call me Alice from now on, okay? Do you know what time it is? The days all seem to blur into one.”


******************************************************




Adam L. Bealby writes fantasy, horror and weird fiction for both adults and children. His short stories and comic work have been published in numerous anthologies, including Spooked (Bridge House Publishing), Pagan (Zimbell House Publishing), Darkness Abound (Migla Press), Once Upon a Scream (HorrorAddicts.net), Sirens (World Weaver Press), World Unknown Review Vol. 2, rEvolution (MiFiWriters) and Murky Depths magazine. He lives in Worcestershire, UK with his wife and three children, and a harried imagination. 

Catch up with his latest ravings at @adamskilad.


Once Upon a Scream…there was a tradition of telling tales with elements of the fantastic along with the frightful. Adults and children alike took heed not to go into the deep, dark woods, treat a stranger poorly, or make a deal with someone-or something-without regard for the consequences. Be careful of what you wish for, you just might get it. From wish-granting trolls, to plague curses, and evil enchantresses, these tales will have you hiding under the covers in hopes they don’t find you. So lock your doors, shutter your windows, and get ready to SCREAM.



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