Not What You Bargained For

📅 Published on July 19, 2021

“Not What You Bargained For”

Written by Chisto Healy
Edited by Craig Groshek and Seth Paul
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available


Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
Please wait...

Wendel pulled at the vines, damp with dew, that were in his way.  He had been trudging through the trees since sundown.  The air held a dampness and a chill, but he still sweated with the exertion of making this journey.  It was not something he ever expected to find himself doing, but fate led him here.

Wendel was too old for this kind of trek, and his body wouldn’t let him forget it, his bones creaking like an old door and his muscles burning in protest.  He knew it was a little crazy, but he also knew that he had to do it.  It was a final act of love.

Wendel was doing this for Elsie.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for Elsie.  After thirty years of marriage, she still mattered more than anything else in the world.  Their children had already grown, left and married someone of their own.  Just like it was when they met, it was just the two of them, alone in their little cottage, passing the days away together, until she got sick.  Watching the love of his life fade from the world was the hardest thing Wendel ever had to do, but as much as each passing day felt like an enormous fist punching away at his heart, he wouldn’t have given up a single moment of it.  Since the first day he had looked into Elsie’s eyes, every moment with her was one that he cherished, even the hard ones.

Now Wendel was here, trying not to trip over roots and rocks as he tugged past vines and branches to navigate the wilderness of what Elsie believed was an enchanted forest.  There were people here that he needed to find.  He didn’t know where they were or how he would find them in this dense underbrush packed with vegetation.  He was kind of just hoping he would know somehow.  The whole trip was a long shot and more than a little bit crazy, but so was love, wasn’t it?

Wendel hadn’t believed in the people of the forest, but Elsie had sworn by them and their magic.  If there was any hope, any inkling of a chance that she was correct, then they could be what he needed to save her.  Wendel had to try.  For her, he had to try.  He would have taken any journey if it meant saving her.  The hardest part of the whole thing was being away from her while she faded away.  He was missing precious moments with her while he was searching these overgrown woods for the magical people she told so many heartfelt stories of.  Elsie held them in high regard and claimed to have seen them herself, even holding one as a child.  He was missing time with her to be here, but the look on her face when he told her where he was going was worth it.  She was so happy, so proud, even as sick as she was.  And that was why he could never give up, never turn back.

The healer had already said he had expended his resources.  There was nothing in modern medicine that was going to fix her and remove the illness that had invaded her body.  He said it was time for Wendel to just keep her comfortable until the lost ones came to claim her and take her to the other side.  That was all that was left for his darling Elsie.

Wendel wasn’t ready to accept such an outcome so easily.  He couldn’t bear even the thought of a life without her.  It took the air from his tired old lungs.  Wendel couldn’t even remember life before Elsie, and he tested it by thinking back.  It was like his life started when he met her, like he himself didn’t exist before their love did.  How was he supposed to go on afterwards?  He was already an old man.  In his mind, as he pushed his bent back through the wild greenery, Wendel recalled Elsie’s sickly pallor as she smiled through it and told him tales of the magical people of the forest.  It brought the light back into her eyes after the sickness had made it dwindle down to almost nothing.  If Elsie was so certain that the people of the forest were real, then as her husband, Wendel owed it to her to find them.  Maybe it was a fool’s errand or a wild goose chase, but if it brought one more smile to her precious face, then he would do it a hundred times over.

Elsie had been talking about the people of the forest the entire time he’d known her.  He tried to remember all the things she had said over the years, the stories she had told him when she returned from picking apples or washing clothes down at the river.  In his mind, he was searching her stories, old and new, for clues to the whereabouts of these magical people she spent her life putting so much stock in, so much faith.

Wendel tried to recall the details of the forest and where she said she went to find the little folk and their brethren.  He was going on faith, taking her details as accurate, believing her every word about something wholly unbelievable, and he laughed at himself for it as he leaned against a tree to catch his breath, moist bark wetting his tunic.  Regarding himself as a little bit ridiculous and possibly a tad bit mad did nothing to deter him.  It only made him think of Elsie when she was healthy and vibrant and the way she would always laugh at him and shake her head, saying, “You’re a silly old man, Mr.  Holloway.”

He would reply, “If it makes you smile, I’m proud to be.”

To which she would say, “See?”  as she shook her head and laughed at him again.

Wendel had always listened to her stories, even though he thought that maybe she had just eaten the wrong mushrooms while she was out there.  She always looked so happy talking about them, the little folk and the people of the forest that they guarded.  Even if it was all in her imagination, or regurgitating stories that her father had told her when she was a child, he could have listened to her all day when she was that happy.  She had a glow to her when she spoke of them, like a little bit of their magic flowed through her.  Tears came to his eyes as he thought about it.  He choked back a sob and put his fist to his mouth.  His heart was breaking inside of him and he swore he could feel it like it was made of so much porcelain.

Elsie had her own magic that hypnotized him immediately and seemed to infect everyone she met over the years they were together.  She was so animated, alive.  She was wonderful.  Wendel ached to see her like that again.  He would have done anything for it, even forfeited his own life, if it meant a few more moments with her feeling good.  He felt like so much of him was dying with her anyway.

Maybe he would see her healthy, see her happy, her contagious smile lighting up the world once more if the people of the forest deemed it so.  She certainly believed in what they could do.  How could he not do the same?  If anything Elsie had told him was true, then Wendel should be close to their domain now.  He had to be.  The darkness was growing in the star-thin sky, a sign of how long he’d been out here already.  He had to be close to finding these people, and once he did, they would have the magical ability to fix everything, to make Elsie brand new.

On the other hand, he could be wandering around these woods searching for something that didn’t even exist.  All he could do is hope, and so hope he did.

Wendel’s eyes widened with excitement when he spied something from Elsie’s tales.  His broken heart accelerated, and he quickened his pace as much as his old body would allow.  The weight of the sack at his back seemed to push him through the ground.  He was in pain, but he trudged on.  The sack contained his offering, and soon, it would be a weight lifted in order to lift one even greater.

Wendel reached the star-shaped clearing Elsie had told him of.  If nothing else, her directions seemed to be real.  Up to this point, everything was just as she told him it would be, as she recalled from her days of youthful vigor.  Just ahead was the cave she mentioned, like a dark toothless mouth yawning.  That was how she had told it, and it was a fitting description he now saw.  He chuckled and thought to himself that he was glad it didn’t come with teeth.

Wendel caught his breath and let his old bones and muscles rest a moment.  Then he headed straight for the dark opening in the rock.  It was almost as if it called to him.  He was so close now.  Wendel didn’t know what was happening to Elsie back home or how much time he had to succeed.  He definitely knew that time was of the essence, and he needed to make haste.

Before he had even left, Elsie had gone past pale to this dull gray tone, like death had already taken her.  She was so thin and frail that he could see her bones protruding more each day like they were soon to burst through her flesh.  She could barely even talk to him anymore.  She struggled for air, and when she found it, she coughed, a cough that ended with blood in a kerchief.  She still managed to smile, to light up when he told her where he was going and why.  Wendel hated leaving her alone, but if it was to save her, to heal her, it was worth it.  But if she died before he could…

He couldn’t think about it.  He just had to keep going.  When he reached the entrance to the cave, Wendel ducked his balding head to fit through the opening of the forest’s yawning mouth.  Something fluttered by his head, and he swatted it away.  Mosquitoes had been harassing him since he first ventured into the trees.  The forest came with bugs.  They were everywhere, though he wasn’t sure what kind lived within the darkness of a cave.  None that he wanted to meet, he was sure.  The more he went forward, the more of the flittering things there were, buzzing all around him.  It was maddening.  “Shoo,”  he said.  “Go on.”

Upon closer inspection, he thought they were probably harmless.  They looked less like bees or wasps and more like moths or butterflies.  Their wings were huge and transparent but scrawled with veiny lines like the underside of the leaves of a tree.  It didn’t make sense to see butterflies in a cave at night, but what about this journey made sense?

At last, Wendel came out the other side and found everything Elsie had said he would find.  There were flowers of every color, nature’s rainbow she had said, and they were blooming with wild abandon, stretching as far as the eyes could see.  The was a magic to the scenery, the brilliant purples and golds that lit the greenery up like lanterns.  He could swear the flowers actually glowed, lights at their center, past the brightly colored petals.  The incredible garden surrounded a pond of clear sparkling water.  The sun seemed to shine here even in the dark of night.  He knew that it was an illusion brought on by the flowers, but it still felt to Wendel like he had just wandered into heaven.  Was this where Elsie was headed once she left him?  If it was, she would be so happy.  That much he knew.

It was then, as he thought of this, that he noticed the bugs were not bugs at all.  They were tiny winged people, the little folk that Elsie had told him about.  They had every feature of a normal-sized person, arms, legs, hair, distinctly detailed faces – each one unique, and even genitals displayed on their tiny naked forms.  Wendel stared at them in shock now that he could see them clearly in the light.  He couldn’t believe it.  They were real.  If they were real, then the people of the forest were real too; the Fae, Elsie always called them.

“Ha-ha!  They’re real, Elsie, honey!  They’re real, and I found them, darling!  I found them for you!”  he said excitedly.  Then he remembered that he reacted to them with fear and hostility in the darkness of the cave and he felt suddenly ashamed, frowning for them to see.  “I’m sorry about swatting at you,”  he said to the crowd of tiny fluttering people.  “I hope I didn’t hurt you any.  I’m old, and I don’t see well.  I would never intentionally bring harm to any of you.”

Wendel could see their little faces, and he knew that they were talking back, yelling even, it seemed, but they were so small that all he could hear was a high-pitched chirping sound like a hungry bird beckoning him for food.  Their contorted faces and narrowed eyes told him that was not at all what they were trying to convey.  “I’m sorry,”  he said again.

Wendel stepped to the edge of the pond, and a bridge of sparkling gold and diamond suddenly appeared out of nowhere, curving over the water and leading into the center of the pond where a small island stood waiting.  Was he supposed to go there?  Wendel nervously chewed on his finger as he looked at the bridge in awe.  He had obviously angered the little people, and he hadn’t seen the Fae yet.  He didn’t know if he was in any kind of danger.

The bridge definitely hadn’t been there a moment ago when he first arrived in this place, but it was there now, and Wendel didn’t know if he could trust it…if he should.  He wanted to trust, to believe, for Elsie.  Was it something physical, though?  It seemed impossible.  If they were magic, could it not be an illusion meant to trick him into stepping into the water?  Would they laugh and feel vindicated when he plunged past the surface?  What lay under the surface of such a pond?  There could be any manner of creature down there.

Wendel swallowed the lump that rose in his throat as he thought about it.  He touched the edge of the bridge with his toe.  It seemed solid enough.  “I’m looking for the people of the forest,”  he said, “the Fae.  Are they here?  You.  Are you here?”

Wendel frowned.  He felt foolish, out of his element.  To steel himself, he envisioned Elsie shaking her head and laughing at him.  He nodded and took a deep breath then, his eyes fluttering around just like the little folk that buzzed about his head.

Vines sprouted up from the island before him and wrapped around themselves, tying together in loops and knots until they formed what looked to Wendel like an enormous throne of grass.  He couldn’t believe what he was seeing.  It was amazing and equally terrifying.  Had Elsie ever made it this far, witness this?  He wished he had a way to capture the moment and bring it back to show her.  In his mind, he imagined the look of wonder that would blaze in her eyes upon bearing witness to such a spectacle.

“Hello.  Is someone there?”  he said.

The throne remained empty.  Wendel waited anxiously for something to happen, but nothing did, aside from the squeaking cries of the little folk becoming more irate and agitated.  He bit down on his knuckle.  He didn’t know what to do.

Then Wendel remembered something Elsie had told him, something he had forgotten about.  You needed to rub your eyes with Marigold water in order to see the Fae.  He had let it slip his mind.  Wendel had actually brought some with him in preparation for this moment.  It was in a pouch on his hip.  He removed the vial from the pouch and pulled the cork stopper free, and dabbed some on his fingertips, wiping it on his eyes.  He looked at the throne of vines and roots again, hoping to see something different…and he did.  He still couldn’t believe that magic was working and myths were real.  All of this seemed like no more than a strange dream to him.

Someone was there, on the throne, facing him.  There was nothing a moment ago, but maybe there had been, and he was just blind to them without the marigold water.  It looked like a man sitting on the throne of tangled vines.  He was well-built, tall as a tree and shirtless, his bronze flesh sparkling like the flowers that surrounded them.  He had incredibly long white hair parted down the middle, and it fell over his shoulders, draping over the firm musculature of his chest.  Wendel remembered Elsie’s description of the Fae.  She had remarked that they had skin the color of butterscotch.  He smiled at the thought, realizing again that she had been right.

The Fae male’s ears came to sharp points that reached skyward.  He had to be one of them, one of the people of the forest that Elsie had talked about.  What else could he be?  He definitely looked like a person of power, of magic.

“Are…are you Fae?”  Wendel asked.

“What have you come here for?”  the man asked in a voice that sounded to Wendel like music, each syllable plucked from a harp.  Wendel was taken aback by the beauty of this creature.  He had never seen a man that had struck him as beautiful before, but there was no other way to describe him.  His high cheekbones and full lips made him look seductively feminine, like a beautiful woman.  If he hadn’t been shirtless, Wendel might have actually thought that he was a woman.  Thinking about it, maybe he still was.  Wendel didn’t know how gender worked with these people.  Maybe he was both a man and a woman, or neither.  Unlike the little folk that were flying around them both, he wore pants, and Wendel wasn’t about to inquire as to what was inside them.  That felt incredibly impolite, rude even, especially as it was this being’s business and had no bearing on why he was there.  He was there for Elsie.  That was what mattered.

“It’s my Elsie,”  Wendel said, starting over the bridge towards the strange man and his throne.

“Don’t come closer,”  the Fae said.  “My fairies are as dangerous as they are small.  Don’t underestimate them.”

Wendel stopped there on the bridge that he still wasn’t confident wouldn’t disappear and take him into the depths of the pond below.  He looked nervously around at the little folk that still fluttered about.  They were dangerous?  He looked back at the Fae then.  “ I…I don’t.  I won’t.  I just…I need your help.”

“What did you bring to bargain with?”

Wendel swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded.  “Gold,”  he said, patting his back.  “I brought you all that I have.  My Elsie is worth more than money.  I have no need for money.”

The man nodded then and waved Wendel forward with long slender fingers.

Wendel hurried across the bridge to the island and then knelt before the throne, his head bowed before this royal creature.  “My Elsie is home, sick.  She is dying.  She is the one that told me about you, about this place.  She said you have magic, great powerful magic.  Please.  I just want to see her healthy again.  I want to be able to dance with her and talk to her like I used to.  I want to see the color in her face again, the light in her eyes.  Please help me if you can.  I beg of you.”

The Fae nodded.  He held his hand out.

Wendel assumed it was for the gold.  He reached to his back and untied the sack that had been there pressing on him for so long.  Bringing it around to his front, he immediately felt the difference of not having that weight on his tired old back.  He handed the sack to the tall being on the throne, who nodded and took it.  Then the Fae waved a hand at Wendel, and he found himself moving back over the bridge.  When his foot touched down on grass again, the golden bridge disappeared as instantly as it had come.  When Wendel looked up, the Fae was gone, too; the throne suddenly empty once again.  Then the roots untangled themselves and retracted back into the earth of the small island, and it seemed like none of it had ever happened.

“That was it?”  Wendel asked, looking around.  “Is it done?  Is Elsie okay?  Did it work?”  The only response he got was the chittering of the little folk that fluttered around him.  It seemed he got what he was going to get from this place.  He just hoped it was enough.  He wouldn’t know until he got back home.  All the gold he owned was gone.  There was nothing else to try after this.  All that there was left to do was hope.  It had gotten him this far.

Wendel made his way back the way he had come.  It was easier to maneuver without the bag of gold on his back, but his old muscles were already sore and screaming at him from pushing them to get him there.  He was exhausted, and it took him until the rise of the sun to make it back home.  He stumbled up to the cottage and fell through the front door, collapsing to his hands and knees on the stained wood floor.  He panted a moment to catch his breath and groaned against the pain of his screaming muscles and aching bones.

“Elsie,”  he called, “I’m so sorry that I was gone so long, my love.  Are you alright?”

“I’m just tired, dear,”  she called back.  “I’m glad you’re home.”

Wendel hadn’t heard her voice so loudly and clearly in so long.  His heart jumped at the sound, and he felt suddenly energized.  He bounded to his feet and hurried to the bedroom where he found Elsie in bed, just as he had left her, except the color had returned to her cheeks, and she was looking at him with that gorgeous contagious smile.  He smiled back and saw the gleam in her eye when he did.  She was as beautiful as ever.  Wendel immediately started weeping.

“You’re okay,”  he said to her through his tears.  “It worked.  The Fae, I found them.  They fixed you.  I can’t believe it.  I just can’t believe it.”

“Oh, it’s okay, sweetheart.  Come over here,”  she said sweetly.  Wendel went to her.  He took her face in his hands, and he kissed her.  She kissed him back, and they held each other.  He trembled as he clutched her to him.  “You’re so beautiful,”  he said.  “You always were.”

Elsie laughed.  “If you say so,”  she said.  “My silly old man.”

“I do,”  he told her.  “I do say so.”  Then he climbed off of the bed and extended his hand to her.  “Dance with me,”  he said.  “Like we used to.  Come on.”

“Oh I don’t know,”  she said.  “I’m tired, Wendel.”

“Elsie, please.  One dance.  That’s all.”

She took his hand then.  Wendel led her out of bed and onto the floor, and together they danced to the music of their hearts, swaying and spinning, dipping and kissing.  Elsie had been right.  She had been right about everything.  She was right about the forest.  She was right about the little folk and the Fae, and she was right about the magic.  She was right about it all.  Wendel truly didn’t care about the money that it took to make this happen.  He would trade all the money in the world for Elsie any day.  There was nothing more worth it, nothing at all.

The next day, while Elsie bathed, and sang, Wendel wrote and sent word to his two sons to let them know that their mother had miraculously recovered from her illness.  He cooked for the two of them, and they took it outdoors for a picnic.  Every moment felt like a celebration.  He found himself singing randomly for no reason, a dance in his step.  Seeing her healthy like this made Wendel feel younger as well.  He was sprier now that she was back to her old self.  He loved seeing her laugh at him for it too.  He loved every moment, all of this.  He had never been so thankful to anyone for anything in his entire life.

The following day, Elsie asked him to run to the market.  He said he couldn’t because they were broke.  He had spent literally all their money to return her health to her.  He laughed about it, not feeling the least bit upset that their life savings was now gone.  Elsie inquired about their gold and his trip to the forest, and he recounted all of it for her.  He delighted at how happy it made her, and he kissed her with a renewed passion they hadn’t experience in many years.

That night they took a walk by the water together.  They sat in the grass and looked at the stars, and they reminisced about old times, going back through their favorite moments of their many years together.  They laughed and cried together and held each other close.  Life was even better now than it was before she had gotten sick.  These were his favorite days of his life thus far because he still remembered what it was like when she was sick, and he took none of this for granted.  Each passing beat of their hearts resonated with him.

On the fifth day since he had returned from the forest, Wendel and Elsie’s son Peter arrived with his wife and daughter.  Wendel ran out to greet them with incredible joy.  He was so happy to see them and for them to see Elsie alive and well.  Peter hadn’t seen his mother since she had first taken ill.  They had been writing letters since in which Wendel had been hopeful but honest about Elsie’s condition.  But now, she had recovered.  She was like brand new.  Wendel hugged them all, welcoming them.

“Your mother’s inside,”  he said to Peter.  “I told her you were coming.  She can’t wait to see you.”

Peter patted his father on the arm and went inside.  He came back to the door as his wife and daughter were coming in, and he physically stopped them, barring the doorway with his arm and keeping them from being able to enter the house.  He leaned by his wife’s ear and whispered for her to take their daughter back to the carriage.  She looked at him with concern, and he just shook his head.  “Please,”  he said.  “Take her and wait for me.”

When she did as she was asked, Peter stormed out of the house and grabbed hold of his father angrily.  He stared into his eyes.  Wendel had never seen his son so angry, and he couldn’t imagine what had gotten into him.  He returned the man’s mother to him when she was all but gone.  He should be happy, not like this.

“Is your brain addled?  What is wrong with you?”  Peter demanded.

Wendel looked at him with genuine confusion.  He shook his head.  “I don’t, I…I don’t understand.”

Peter seized his father’s arm and marched into the house, pulling the old man behind him.  He dragged Wendel into the bedroom.  Wendel’s confusion only increased.  Elsie was looking at them both with a smile in her eyes that matched her lips.  She looked beautiful as ever.  Wendel returned the gesture.

“What are you smiling at?!”  Peter demanded to know.  “Father!  We need to bury her!  This is sick.  It is a horrible thing to keep Mother like this!  It isn’t normal.  Can you not smell her?  Is this some kind of foul attempt at humor?”

“What did you say?”  Wendel asked him, despair setting in like a kick to the heart.  His hands shook at his sides.  “What are you saying?”

“He’s right,”  Elsie said.  “I’m sorry, sweetheart.  I love you.  Don’t be upset with him.”

Wendel shook his head.  Something was wrong.  Maybe the magic was fading.  Maybe they needed more gold.  He ran past his son out of the house and into the woods.  The Fae could fix it.  He would get them whatever they needed.

“Fantastic!  I’ll bury Mother by myself!”  Peter yelled from behind him.  “Thank you for this joyous visit, father!”

Wendel ran and ran and didn’t stop running until he reached the clearing and the cave and the magical land beyond.  He knowingly swatted the fairies away this time.  “Move.  Please.  I’m sorry, but I need to get through.  Please!”

Wendel was crying, but he wiped his eyes with marigold water anyway.  “Show yourself,”  he said.  “Please.  Just tell me what I need to do.  How do I save her?  Please.  I’m begging you.  I paid you to save her, to fix her.  I gave you everything.  What else do you need?  Tell me.  I will get it for you.  I don’t know how but I will.  I will do whatever it takes.  Just tell me.  Please.”

Wendel fell to his knees, wracked by sobs, his old chest heaving, his nose running and eyes watering.  When he looked at the small island, the Fae was sitting on his throne of vines once again.  Wendel was so relieved to see this strange being.  He reached a hand towards the island, a plea for help.

“You need to bury your wife,”  the Fae said to him in his usual sing-song way.

“But why?  I thought you fixed her.  She was healed.  Tell me why,”  Wendel begged.  “What did I do wrong?  Why have you forsaken me?”

“You said you wanted to see her healthy and talk to her like you used to.  I gave you exactly what you asked for.”

Wendel wanted to be angry.  He wanted to scream that the strange man of the forest had tricked him.  He wanted to curse him for his deception, but he couldn’t.  He couldn’t because he realized just what a wonderful gift this magical being had given him.  He had five of the most incredible days with Elsie that he had ever had in his life.  He remembered every single moment of those days, and he always would, for as long as he remained alive himself.  He did cherish the fact that he had gotten to see her again in all her beauty, to hear her voice without the coughing, the beautiful melody of it.  It was a much better way to see her off, to remember her.  Wendel was heartbroken that it was over, but it had still been a gift that he would cherish forever.  He nodded in acceptance of the truth then.

Wendel looked at the Fae on his throne.  Tears streamed down his face, but he dried his eyes with his sleeve, and his breathing became more regular, steady.  He got to his feet and waved in a gesture of thanks before he turned his back on the Fae and walked out.  Thinking about the conversation he and Elsie had under the stars brought the tears back as Wendel walked that now familiar path through the woods on his way back home.  He sniffled and wiped away tears as he thought about Elsie seeing him now.  He imagined her shaking her head and saying, “You’re a silly old man, Mr.  Holloway.”

“I guess I am,”  he said as he walked.

Wendel knew that he needed to apologize to his son for such a gruesome misunderstanding, and just the same, he needed to tell him about his mother and the people of the forest, to share her many stories and to let Peter know that magic was in fact real.  His tears returned as he remembered how it felt in that moment, when he had first gotten home and heard her voice, saw her healthy.  As he stepped over the roots and rocks and pushed the foliage out of his way, Wendel recalled dancing with his wife in his arms, spinning and dipping as they had.  Oh, how he loved her.  He loved her with everything he had, which he supposed he had now proven.  He could see her bright eyes and pink cheeks as she smiled at him from behind his tearful eyes.

“My sweet, beautiful Elsie.  My sweet, beautiful, magical, Elsie.”

Rating: 10.00/10. From 1 vote.
Please wait...

🎧 Available Audio Adaptations: None Available

Written by Chisto Healy
Edited by Craig Groshek and Seth Paul
Thumbnail Art by Craig Groshek
Narrated by N/A

🔔 More stories from author: Chisto Healy

Publisher's Notes: N/A

Author's Notes: N/A

More Stories from Author Chisto Healy:

Hypatia’s Snakes
Average Rating:

Hypatia’s Snakes

Blood and Broccoli
Average Rating:

Blood and Broccoli

The Trick is His Treat
Average Rating:

The Trick is His Treat

Related Stories:

No posts found.

You Might Also Enjoy:

Average Rating:


Average Rating:


Her Tongue Too Long
Average Rating:

Her Tongue Too Long

A Form of Malice
Average Rating:

A Form of Malice

Recommended Reading:

Knifepoint Horror: The Transcripts, Volume 4
Too Spooky Tales: Book One: An Overturned Shrub (And Other Horror Icons)
Midnight Men: The Supernatural Adventures of Earl and Dale
City of Demons: The Unseen - Book Two

Copyright Statement: Unless explicitly stated, all stories published on are the property of (and under copyright to) their respective authors, and may not be narrated or performed, adapted to film, television or audio mediums, republished in a print or electronic book, reposted on any other website, blog, or online platform, or otherwise monetized without the express written consent of its author(s).

Notify of

Inline Feedbacks
View all comments
Skip to content