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Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx. “Guys, it’s open!” Robert inspected the door and called them. When they turned their heads, they saw him standing right next to the opened door of the dead tree. “I’m not getting inside that creepy thing,” said Marcela. “But we don’t have a choice. These crows are crazy. With that large number, we’ll be brutally torn to pieces if they attack us. Come on,” said Regan. He grabbed Marcela’s hand and walked back to the old tree. “Wait!” their guide Freddie suddenly yelled".

Big BiIl’s voice was getting louder and louder. I was pretty sure that it was reaching the restaurant and was starting to feel a bit embarrassed since I didn’t want to be a part of the scene he was causing. However, I didn’t not hear anything from inside as I walked toward the hallway. Another crew member came from inside the restaurant and walked past me.

All of a sudden, the light in the room went out, then came back on again. The girls froze in their tracks. They all stared at each other, their eyes regarding one another. Then they began to laugh again. A sickening one that rang through the walls. Then the light went out again. The room was shrouded in a stiffening darkness. The girls waited, but this time, the light never came back on. Fear like the slow thrust of an injection begin to enter their body.

He lifted his head and froze with shock. Standing over him, more than six feet tall, was a monstrous goliath of a beast. It had hairs all over its body, staring like an overfed, violent, half-man, half-gorilla. His hair was locked, thick, and long to its waistline. It had red eyes, an enormous nose, crushed ears, and an ugly, twisted mouth. His fingers were long, sharp, and dirty. In his hand were two long blades dripping with blood. A foul smell emanated from every part of him.

“So? It’s not like it’s going to kill her or anything. She might just have to go to the hospital for a couple of hours,” Cody said, rolling his eyes. “Anyway, after everything she’s done to us, who cares if she gets sick? She shouldn’t be a teacher if she can’t handle it.” Derek couldn’t think of a counter argument to that nonsense. Telling Cody they could get in big trouble would have sailed right over his head, because Cody didn’t care about being sent home. He lived in the moment and treated the future as something he had no control over. “There!”

Amari was just right behind me, and I saw with my own eyes how the beast sunk its claws on his shoulders as he caught him. Amari’s scream of agony only lasted for a second. This freak of nature snapped his neck and tore him apart like a ragdoll. I made a sharp turn in hopes that I could escape from its line of sight, but the forest was unending.

The line on the map, where they had permission to go, brought them very close to the place where Andrew had to go. So they started out, leaving their Jeep at a secure place in the village, and taking all essential gear with them into the jungle. They didn’t take their cell phones, because they were out of cell range, even before they entered the jungle. But Andrew had his satellite phone. And the moment Andrew entered the jungle, he knew they were going in the right direction.

At a town meeting it was suggested that the border point be better enforced. That by allowing the others across, we were somehow allowing wolves in sheep’s clothing to enter into our town. That amongst those fleeing bullets and bombs, were a few who hid weapons of their own and who meant to feed on the local population. A few stood to oppose such a view but were shouted down by two men screaming about how the "others" had brought the curse with them, that while they themselves might not be vampires, they had carried the smell of death with them and the creatures had followed it.

In reality, in real actual life, that kind of magic doesn’t belong to one group and the object doesn’t have to look like them at all. It doesn't even have to look like a person. As long as you wish, dream, and know hard enough, it can be anything. A stick, a leaf, a piece of fruit, a candle. My grandmother used to do with an egg. She would write the name of the person onto the surface of a hen’s egg and then...picking up a rock, she would smash - Smash! Smash! - the top, so that it fractured and dented, yolk spilling and oozing out everywhere!

While the image of Boris Karloff slowly shuffling across the screen with wraps of what looked like toilet paper wound around him may not have frightened me. The less well lit corners of esoteric magic did. As a scholar of history and particularly folklore, I had occasion to research the origins and uses of ritual magic within the Middle Ages. I was stunned by how much of what we think of as "medieval" magic actually finds its roots with the Ancient Egyptians.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx: "Still, despite my mother’s warnings and the strange feelings that her less specific warnings gave me. I didn’t want to look like a coward in front of Andy and Mike, so instead of protesting or sharing what my mom had said. I instead clambered up the iron ladder, plonked myself down cross legged on the roof and prepared myself for the process by cracking open a preparatory beer. Andy, as always, was marvelously melodramatic".

Especially when they were exposed to more people when they started schooling. Their fellow kindergarteners did not become an issue since they were all too young to judge. But the parents and a few teachers had thought of the twins as freaks of nature. They began to get harassed by the local tabloids and fanatics of bizarre scopes, until it became overwhelming and intolerable. Before their home could turn into a circus, they were forced to move out for the sake of their children.

Standing against the trunk of the oak tree was a man. His hair was silver, but not in a way that made him look old - it glinted faintly in the patches of light that punch through the crown of branches above. For a moment, Tansy wondered if maybe her eyes were playing tricks on her. That often happened when she was tired; she’d see something out of the corner of her eye and think it was something entirely different. When she blinked, though, he was still standing there, with a concerned look on his face.

He counted out the money for the payment of their order and handed it to me. And then, he pulled out another 200 bucks and showed it to me. He told me that he would give me a couple of hundred bucks if I deliver a package for them. If I do, the receiving end would also give me another 200 when I arrive.

Enjoy this short story by Mace Styx: "Standing in a room filled with sharp and heavy objects I had seen some form of I don’t know what, an apparition? A ghost? Yet, I had not been harmed. Standing stock still, I considered. In those stories, those urban legends and public warnings about the dangers of discarded appliances there was no malevolent element, no wicked long toothed demon emerging through the wires. Shaking my head and sure that I would probably regret the decision, I did possibly the bravest and possibly the stupidest thing I have ever done. I went back into the room".

I called for Archie then, shouting at the top of my lungs and hoping that perhaps she had escaped to the outside, or was on her way to my house. I lifted my phone to call her and saw a video clip she had sent. Feeling the tension drain from my body as relief washed over me like a wave, I sighed, assuming that this message would tell me exactly where she was, that she was safe and that the worst I would then be faced with was an embarrassing conversation with the police. As it turned out, only the last of these was true.

I had to admit it to myself. I am lost. ''What should I do now?'', I said. I did the only thing I could think of at the moment. I started yelling. ''Daaaaad. Dad where are you?'' No response. Just a sound of the wind and cracking branches. I had a choice to make. I can keep going, or turn around and get back to my car. The second choice sounded better, but how can I leave my father. He is probably in pain, still waiting for me, and probably worrying sick about me.

"The light from the fire against the tent cast some strange shadows, but nothing out of the ordinary, as Tony whispered that it was probably Bumi going to pee in the foliage. Leaning slowly to one side I raised the flap of the tent and stared out. Panic gripped me when I suddenly realized that the tent opposite, Bumi’s tent, was empty. Not only that, but his backpack was missing. Why would he take his stuff if he’s just going to pee? I asked myself and then Tony, out loud. In response he told me not to panic. Surely wherever Bumi had gone he would be back by morning".

Upon the occasion of her own demise, Mary Seacomb was buried, as was her wish, between the roots of the tree - despite the malevolent elements of her work and the fact that she was expressly forbidden from entering any of the church buildings within the surrounding areas. Accounts and parish records from the time reveal that she was regarded as something of an asset to the local area. This was particularly on account of her apparent ability to shield the town and a number of local villages from the effects of the black death.

Well, this beginning of my new life did not start as I thought it was going to. I was here for less than two hours, and I already managed to have a panic attack. What should I expect next. I was in a foreign country, in a car with two people I do not know, going to a clinic where I should have a meeting that could determine my whole future. I had no idea how to do it, but apparently, I had four and a half hours to bring my A-game and impress my future boss.