Sexy Deads

In a small, isolated town, people talked about a strange phenomenon that happened every few years. Known as the "Sexy Deads," spirits of alluring figures would appear, drawing people into the woods with seductive whispers, only for the person to disappear, never to return.

Eli heard the stories growing up, but he never believed them—until one night when he found himself alone on the dark edge of the forest, feeling an overwhelming pull to go in. He could hear soft laughter and saw shadowy figures flickering between the trees, their shapes graceful, almost hypnotic.

Suddenly, one of the figures stepped forward: a beautiful woman with pale skin, eyes like polished glass, and a red dress that seemed to flow around her like mist. She beckoned him closer, her smile inviting yet unsettling.

Unable to resist, Eli took a step forward, then another, the sound of her laughter echoing around him. As he moved deeper into the woods, other figures began to appear—handsome men and stunning women, all with eyes that glowed faintly in the dark, their faces frozen in hauntingly beautiful smiles.

"Stay with us," they whispered in unison, their voices like a sweet melody. "Forever."

When he tried to turn back, cold hands gripped his shoulders. The figures’ faces transformed, revealing hollow eyes and twisted grins, their once-beautiful features decayed and rotten. They pressed closer, their touch freezing his skin as they whispered, “Join us… feel what it’s like to be beautifully dead.”

The next morning, the townspeople found only Eli’s footsteps leading to the woods—no sign of him remained, except for a faint, lingering laugh in the air.

We Killed the Dead

In a remote village plagued by strange events, the townspeople began to report sightings of their deceased loved ones—figures they had buried long ago, now wandering the streets at night. Pale and expressionless, these figures roamed without purpose, leaving a trail of frost wherever they went.

Terrified, the villagers formed a plan. “We’ll stop them for good,” they said, gathering torches and pitchforks. That night, as the dead returned, the villagers surrounded them and set the torches ablaze, chanting, "We’ll kill the dead!"

But as the flames consumed the figures, an ear-splitting scream filled the air, and the villagers watched in horror as the figures turned to ash—only for the ash to swirl back together, forming monstrous shadows with hollow eyes and twisted faces, far more terrifying than before.

One by one, the villagers felt a chill as those they thought they had destroyed whispered in voices that echoed from the grave, “You tried to kill us twice. Now, we’ll live in you forever.”

From that night on, the villagers were haunted by the faces of the dead in every reflection, every shadow. They never saw peace again, as the spirits of those they had tried to kill twice took over their minds, filling their lives with endless fear.

Blood Moon

In the quiet village of Eldermoor, there was a legend of the Blood Moon—a night when the moon turned red, casting an eerie glow over the land. On this night, it was said that the spirits of the restless dead would rise, thirsting for revenge.

One autumn, as villagers prepared for the Blood Moon, strange things began to happen. Animals disappeared, crops wilted overnight, and eerie howls echoed through the hills. The villagers whispered in fear, wondering if this Blood Moon would be different.

When night fell, the moon rose, glowing deep crimson, illuminating the village with an unnatural light. Shadows stretched and danced across the ground, and a thick, cold mist rolled in, carrying the scent of decay. Then, the dead appeared.

They rose silently from their graves, their faces pale and eyes hollow, with a thirst for vengeance that could not be quenched. One by one, they crept through the village, silently entering the homes of those who had wronged them in life. Some villagers saw loved ones they had betrayed; others saw the faces of strangers with burning, accusing eyes.

In his home, the blacksmith Aaron heard soft footsteps and turned to find his long-dead brother, his skin rotting, his eyes glowing red in the moonlight. “You left me to die,” his brother’s hollow voice whispered. Aaron tried to scream, but his brother’s icy grip choked the breath from his lungs.

By morning, the village lay empty, save for a trail of blood-red mist that lingered in the streets. The Blood Moon had claimed its toll, and the restless spirits had returned to their graves, their vengeance satisfied… for now.

Many are the afflictions of the righteous but God delivered them all

"Life is like a coin. You can spend it any way you wish, but you only spend it once." – Lillian Dickinson

"Life is about making an impact, not making an income." – Kevin Kruse

"There are no regrets in life, just lessons." – Jennifer Aniston