Dreamtales Comics -

In the distance, a carnival waited. But it was a carnival of bones. The Ferris wheel was made of rib cages. The calliope played a single, warped note over and over. The ticket booth was a grinning skull.

He looked at his grandmother. “The Ringmaster,” he said. “It’s not a story. It’s a door. And I left it open.”

Elara’s hand shot out, faster than a woman her age should move. “No. These aren’t games, Leo. A DreamTale of regret makes you sad. A DreamTale of loss makes you weep. But a hungry DreamTale? It can keep you. It can trade your waking soul for a better character in its own eternal fiction.” dreamtales comics

“You found the hungry one,” she whispered.

Elara slowly closed the drawer on the iron ring. For the first time, she looked afraid. “No, Leo,” she said, her voice barely a breath. “You didn’t leave it open. You brought a piece of it back with you.” In the distance, a carnival waited

“The DreamTales,” she said, her voice a dry rustle like turning pages, “are not stories you read. They are stories you wear .”

He had to write a new story. Fast.

For a month, he sampled the library. “The Clockwork Gardener” taught him patience. “The Silent Dirigible” gave him a fear of heights he’d never had before. He became a connoisseur of borrowed dreams.