The Thirteenth Tale Novels & Stories

The family gathered under the blood moon, the smell of scorched earth in the air, and the memory of an almost-tragedy burned into their bones. Three days later, Thelma sat by the fireplace, a shawl over her shoulders, and Saint in her lap. She opened her leather-bound book. “Tonight, I will tell you the story of the girl who burned and became legend.” Saint looked up. “Is it about you?” She smiled. “It always was.”

he said, lifting it by one corner and showing the cover to me, “is filled with the stories of our people. Every werewolf family has a copy, and all werewolf children grow up hearing the tales.” “So… they’re fairy tales like Cinderella? Or myths like Pandora’s Box?” I asked, taking the book and examining it. It was an old book with a dark green cover, embossed with gold scrolling around the edges and on the binding, with the title “The Goddess’s Tales” right in the center. Despite its age, it was still in wonderful condition, with hardly any deterioration.

She quickly averted her gaze and looked to where Llewellyn was once standing as he walked into the forest. Lucian was still seated calmly behind her with his back against one of the trees and with her seated directly in front of him, her back to his chest. Being unable to bear the silence, Katherine finally spoke, "Tell me a story," "Milord," She quickly added wanting to remain respectful. His already deep voice was low and sounded like a hum, "You have to be more specific than that, do you wish to hear about the tales of the creatures below sea level or the creatures that plague the earth realm,"

On my first night after moving into Building 4 of Hawthorne Lane Apartments, the elevator stopped at the nonexistent thirteenth floor. My younger brother, who had been missing for three months, was kneeling outside the doors. An old apartment-number plaque hung around his neck. It read 1204. I was just about to call out to him when the red light above the elevator doors came on. A building manager in a blue uniform suddenly appeared behind me and pushed a report form into my hand. His lips lifted into a frozen smile. “No talking under the red light. If you want to live, write down a neighbor’s apartment number.” Only later did I learn the truth. The most terrifying thing about this building

Wrapping one arm around its throat and using my free hand to rip the arrow from its leg, causing it to screech in pain. I repeatedly use the arrow to stab its face, specifically focusing on its eye. It’s going crazy and scratching my arm that is holding it in place. My arm burns where it has broken my skin. But if I release the creature, I will lose my advantage, so I bear the pain. Eventually, it stops moving and collapses to the ground. I roll off the top of it, thanking the goddess I survived. I examined my arm, which was burning and coated in blood that didn’t belong to me. I stagger as Anabelle drags me to my feet. It was at that moment when Tala told me she was having to counter some p

He felt resistance. Then— Click. The last tumbler gave way. He froze. Listened. No footsteps in the hall. No voices. Good. Slowly, Tales gripped the handle. The door creaked as he turned it— Once. Twice. Then— It opened. A faint rush of humid air greeted him from the dark hallway beyond. Tales slipped through, silent as a shadow. He closed the door behind him with care, locking it again from the inside. They wouldn’t know he was gone.