Twisted Tales: Of Myth and Monstrosity is a collection of twelve tales from twelve different authors who used their creative talents to reach back into the lore of times gone by and put their own twist on the tales we’ve all heard. Think you know them all?
A soul for a soul, but what of the cost? A found treasure, but what would you sacrifice to keep it? What lurks in the enchanted woods, coming for the thing you treasure most? Recognize them, do you? You may recognize the fable, but you’ve yet to hear the tale told through the mind’s eye of the twelve authors in this collection – they are not what you would necessarily expect them to be!
Myth or reality…
Explore the twelve tales of horror and intrigue in Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity and ask yourself, what would you consider a fair price to pay for life immortal… or the chance of life at all?
Would a young woman pass up a shiny bauble if she believed it to be nothing more than a harmless trinket? What transpires once a year in a peaceful and remote village that no one will ever speak of? What better way for a broken man to honor a crippled existence than with a memorial of blood and vengeance? How could a disfigured woman ever dream of chancing across an object that would restore her beauty – and at what cost?
Follow the twists and turns of each writer as they delve into the legends of days gone by, as well as the consequences that are wrought when myths and monstrosities collide with our world.
Contributing Authors include:
Thomas James Brown, Nina D’Arcangela, K. Trap Jones, Amber Keller, Lisamarie Lamb, Edward Lorn, Alexa Muir, Kate Monroe, Joseph A. Pinto, J. Marie Ravenshaw, Julianne Snow, and Jonathan Templar
Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity is available in print and digital forms from these find retailers:
Excerpts from three of the twelve magnificent stories contained within Twisted Realities: Of Myth and Monstrosity. For a preview of all 12 stories, please go to SirensCallPublications.com
The Plight of Phaylen Ponsford – Julianne Snow
Each thin layer of dirt removed had the potential to reveal a relic of a lost time; perhaps a treasure of incalculable value. Phaylen had wanted to be an archaeologist for as long as she could remember. The desire stemmed from the continual playback of a childhood favourite that still held her spellbound; good old Indy never let her down. With all of the bad things that had befallen Phaylen, Indy always remained a constant source of inspiration. Even after the fire.
It happened when Phaylen was nine. An electrical short in one of the wires connecting her favourite pink lamp with the frilly nightshade to the wall. It could have picked any point in its life to short out, but instead it chose a moment when a young Phaylen was sleeping next to it. Within that instant her life changed – in the worst possible way.
Gone were her frilly pink lamp, her bed that had once been covered in a pink and purple polka dotted bedspread, and all her toys. In their stead was just pain; both physical and emotional.
Phaylen had always been a heavy sleeper; a trait that her alcoholic mother had once considered a Godsend. In the wake of the devastation and the mounting medical bills, she began to consider it a curse.
It wasn’t long before she considered Phaylen cursed as well.
The Silver Comb – J. Marie Ravenshaw
Aisling pulled up close to the garage – knowing that both stalls would be in use – and turned off the car. She grabbed the groceries and her purse. Deciding to leave her books in the car -she didn’t need to crack them until Sunday anyway- she slid out and slammed the door behind her.
Aisling glanced toward the front door, mapping out the path she would take in the utter darkness. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a shadow flit by at the edge of the woods. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned toward the area. Narrowing her eyes, she yelled, “Who’s there?” No answer. Chills ran up her spine, making her shiver in response.
A thought crossed her mind, making her smile and immediately staving off her fear. She yelled again. “Cal? You messin’ with me again? ‘Cause if you are …” She shook her head and continued toward the front door.
As she stepped onto the bottom step, the porch light came on, illuminating the front yard and temporarily blinding her. She raised her arm to shield her face from the bright light. Her eyes widened as the front door opened to reveal…
Drakul – K. Trap Jones
My name is Drakul and I have become a lost cause, a faded shadow of my former self. I was once a loyal follower of Dionysus, the God of grape harvest and wine, until the others discovered my weakness. Immortality flows through my veins along with the wine, but only one of them actually helps me to erase the memories of my past. I turn to my friendly liquid for acceptance and for denial of what I have become. I am a satyr; half-goat, half-man, but a full drunkard. I am immortal, but death can greet me from the hands of any God.
The wine has become my only friend, for it is that within the goblet that I truly consider my companion; but alas, even he is not above betraying me on occasion. I had an unfortunate event that pushed me away from the glory of the Gods to where I find myself today. Before I wallow too deep in the present, allow me to reflect upon the past. For it is within the sands of time that my prosperity truly reigns supreme. It was within the protection of the Gods where I truly became gifted, but it was within the winery orchards where I found my betrayers.