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Alacarian the Succubus wandered through the city streets in disguise looking for something new and engaging to provide her entertainment. It was not until late afternoon that she found a target worthy of her attention: an attractive young woman sitting alone on a park bench reading a book. With a wicked grin the Demoness approached the unsuspecting girl. She took careful note as to where the lone woman sat; somewhere far enough away from other people to avoid being seen by others while she had her fun at this poor woman’s expense. Then came the moment of truth…the perfect opportunity had finally arrived. With a smirk Alacarian quietly took a seat beside the innocent young lady. “I don’t wish to interrupt,” said the veiled Succubus, trying not to let her excitement show too much, “but I have been wondering what you were reading.” Completely engrossed in the small paperback, the woman jumped at the unexpected intrusion. “Oh!” exclaimed the startled woman. “It’s nothing

Emily had always been the free-spirited type with a light-hearted sense of humor and an inherent streak of creativity. She loved Halloween and every year since she was a little kid, her costumes were often as elaborate and outlandish as she could make them. She didn’t care whether she looked silly or preposterous, as long as she had a good time. So, when she stumbled upon the giant inflatable pumpkin in the home improvement store the year before, an absurd idea sparked her imagination. The lawn decoration was easily five-foot wide and just as tall, bright orange and almost perfectly round, with the quintessential pumpkin face emblazoned across the front. As she stood there looking at the display decoration, her curiosity got the better of her and she reached out, placing her palm flat upon the surface. The blown-up pumpkin was surprisingly firm with very little give as the internal air pressure pushed back against Emily’s touch. The built-in fan situated on the back underside

“…you awaken in a darkened room. The floors and walls are carved from the cold stone common to most dungeons in this region, and wavering light from a couple of wall-mounted candles barely pushes back the shadows. In the center of the room rests a low table, on which sits a swirling blue potion, a short sword, a small wooden shield, an empty waterskin and a length of spider-silk rope. One sturdy door is set in the south wall and another door with a hefty padlock blocks your way to the north. What do you do?” The rogue known as Finnegan Lockhart awoke with a start, shaking his head as he tried to get his bearings. The dimly lit room came into focus, and he recognized enough of the design and architecture to know where he was immediately… the InflaTrap Dungeon, a sprawling labyrinth of corridors, chambers, and hidden passages filled with deadly pitfalls, monstrous creatures, and puzzles designed to test an adventurer’s wit and courage. Finn had never before found himself within these

“…I don’t want to do this, but Dr. Carmichael insists. He’s been my therapist for years, and has been suggesting I document the events that transpired during that fateful visit to Willy Wonka’s factory, a singular task that has proven to be both challenging and unsettling. Reliving the details of my… ordeal… as if laying bare my vulnerability on these pages, fills me with a mixture of dread and apprehension. Only recently, after a lot of prodding on his part, have I agreed to finally give it a try, journaling the details of my experience. The memories come rushing back, vivid and disorienting. The moment I bit into that extraordinary gum, a wave of sensations washed over me like an unstoppable tide. I thought it was going to be the best thing ever, so much so that I blocked out everyone else’s nagging voices and relished my grand act of defiance. As I approached the final course of Wonka’s amazing gum, a tantalizing aroma enveloped my senses, teasing me with the promise of a

Aikumi turned her hands over again and again as she looked down at the form-fitting neoprene bodysuit she wore. The pliable material encased her entirely, hugging her curves snugly with the closures terminating at her wrists, ankles and neck. In the small of her back, built into the design of the suit was a miniaturized bundle perhaps the same dimensions as your average-size paperback novel; the modestly-sized pack nestled at the base of her spine incorporated a compact battery bank, a tiny but powerful air pump, and an RF transceiver/controller. When activated, the rig would slowly but steadily fill the yielding enclosure of her outfit with air. The design itself was simple yet elegant. Unable to glean anymore from self-examination, she looked over at the other four competitors. Similarly attired, they all knew what the bodysuits did, and each had a vague idea the challenge that faced them but until the game was officially announced, none would know exactly what lay ahead. The

Insofar as family curses go, his was, in his own mind, the most quirky. The word that often came to mind was ‘inconvenient’. Sure, he could’ve been stricken with Vampirism, as horrific as that seemed. His family could’ve been plagued by some supernatural entity, one that occasionally reared its malevolent head to inflict relentless torment every few years. Even a series of tragic events and an endless string of bad luck, while equally appalling, still held a certain poetic allure to the outside observer. Regrettably, his affliction manifested itself as a form of Lycanthropy, and had beset his family for nearly two centuries, passing itself on from generation to generation like some inherited ancestral trait. While that alone might sound vaguely romantic, for Ethan Dahl, the resultant change wasn’t anything so primal or powerful as a Werewolf; rather, at the height of the full moon every month (and on the night of Halloween this year, not surprisingly) the unfortunate heir found

Once upon a time, in a kingdom far, far away, there lived a beautiful princess who was the youngest of three daughters. She was blessed with golden hair and sparkling blue eyes, and her allure was renowned throughout the land. However, the Princess had a terrible habit that marred her otherwise perfect image. She had a tendency to tell lies about others and exaggerate the truth about herself, in order to puff up her ego and to always be the center of attention. Her vanity was so great that it blinded her to the harm that her words caused, and she continued to weave her web of lies and deceit, heedless of the consequences. The Princess’ vanity was evident in every aspect of her life. She would spend hours getting ready each day, fussing over her hair and makeup until she looked absolutely perfect. And when she emerged from her chambers, she would make sure that everyone took notice of her. She would walk with her head held high, and her chin would be tilted just so, so that she looked