Status Updates From The Fiends in the Furrows: ...

At dusk he saw a string of people file down the street, and the occupants of the inn joining from the door below. He watched as they all moved slowly and single-mindedly toward the great hall, its front a darkening plane, only illuminated by a pair of points of light rising from the center.

There was a flash of silver between the trees, and another, and another. High-pitched voices giggled, their music breaking the silence. Imps come to see if they would be given a new playmate—their teeth sharpened especially for the purpose.

This is the twisted tale of Campbell Lot. Said to be haunted by a pair of tormented souls—two lovers who never found a way to be together in life. The ghosts of a woman named Lumina Pietrowsky and a man named Jack.

A layer of yellow-gold dried leaves spreads itself like a blanket outside Ada and Evelyn’s front door. There are no trees anywhere on their property. Ada clenches her jaw and walks through the yard as though every leaf crunching under her foot is a snapping spine.

I went to draw the curtains and paused when I noticed that the rain had stopped and a perfect full moon was shining, dazzling, over the Sleators’ field. And there, at the brow of the hill, I saw a hunched figure with a coil of thick rope slung around his upper body, laboring, head down, towards the barn. He passed into the shadow of some trees and was gone.

“It can’t be done in there,” Wolfric told Croft. “We need space.” “Of course,” Croft said. “We’ve prepared a spot for you in the woods.” Cruelly, he looked at Rosamond. “I’d hate for her screams to disturb the womenfolk.” “Doesn’t look like she speaks or screams,” Wolfric said. “She screams,” Croft remarked.

Hiatus due to health issues. ☹️