Stories Fables Ghostly Tales Podcast

• 950: Seamstress of the Silver Moon 🌚 [Special]

  🕯️ When the Thread Starts to Breathe… There’s a shop on a street that doesn’t appear on any map. Its window glows long after the rest of the town has fallen asleep. Inside, a lone seamstress works by candlelight — needle flashing, thread whispering, her hands moving with a rhythm that sounds far too alive. No one remembers when she arrived. No one remembers when she stopped. Some say the garments she creates can’t be worn by anyone human. Welcome to The Silver Seamstress, a new gothic horror story for the season — eerie, intimate, and stitched from the very fabric of nightmare. If you love haunted atmospheres, tragic mysteries, and stories that feel like whispered confessions in candlelight… this one is for you. 🩸 Exploring the Threads Beneath the Cloth This episode isn’t just about monsters or magic. It’s about creation — the cost of it, the obsession behind it, and what happens when art demands too much of the artist. The Seamstress represents control — the need to craft, to mend, to make sense of chaos by stitching it into form. But the story asks: At what point does creation begin to consume its maker? When does devotion become surrender? Throughout, you’ll hear echoes of loneliness, legacy, and transformation. The idea that beauty — true beauty — might require something terrible in return. It’s horror not through violence, but through inevitability. And yes, the story’s final image lingers long after the last word. ☕ Your Turn — Join the Circle (Chapters I–III) Now that we’ve reached the midpoint, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the journey so far: 🕯️ Which moment from Chapters I–III struck you most — the first glimpse of the workshop, the mannequins’ breath, or the thread that refuses to break? 🧵 Do you feel sympathy for the Seamstress, or fear her? 💭 And do you think the “you” inside the story could ever truly leave that shop behind? Share your theories, your interpretations, your unease — I read them all, and they often shape how future episodes unfold! If you’re new to the Patreon, welcome to the workshop. Here, you’ll find early access, behind-the-scenes notes, and small secrets that didn’t make it into the recording. The candle’s still burning. The hum hasn’t stopped. And the story… is only half-sewn. And the shop… never sleeps. All the love and all the hugs from your Tale Teller... And now for some Seamstress Lore! Lore: The Silver Seamstress No one remembers the seamstress’s first breath, nor the day she took her last — if she ever did. Her name was once Mirelle Anson, a tailor’s daughter in a town that has since slipped out of geography and into rumour. When her mother fell ill, Mirelle discovered that her own blood could mend cloth better than any dye or oil. The first time her needle pierced her fingertip, the thread shimmered silver and refused to break. Her gift became her curse. Each garment she repaired took a fragment of memory, a pulse of warmth, a moment that would never return. Soon the townsfolk whispered that her creations never aged — nor did the dead who wore them. The boundary between fabric and flesh began to blur. When her body failed, her hands did not. They kept moving long after her breath stopped, pulling threads through time itself. The shop became a space between worlds — where creation and decay are the same motion seen from opposite sides. They say her workshop still appears in places where grief lingers too long. The candle never burns out, the thread never tangles, and the air tastes faintly of iron and jasmine. Those who enter her door leave changed. Some find comfort. Others find a seam where their heartbeat used to be. And always, always — the whisper of her working: Through. Pull. Knot. Tighten.

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• 949: 🐺Dungeon of the Black Moon 🐺🌚

  🦉Alright my night-owls, candle-huffers, and certified spooky folk — gather ‘round, because tonight’s story is a weird one. We’re talking sentient dungeon weird. We’re talking werewolf-therapy-session-from-hell weird. We’re talking, “if IKEA designed its own haunted house, and the instructions were written in blood,” weird. In The Dungeon of Black Moon, a poor, hairy soul wakes up in a maze that’s alive, hungry, and uncomfortably self-aware. There are rooms that sing, mirrors that have opinions, and an HR department run entirely by hooks. As he claws his way through the traps, our wolfish protagonist learns that the biggest monster in the building… might actually be on the payroll. It’s six chapters of dark fantasy, gruesome atmosphere, and emotional damage — the kind you can’t just walk off with a silver bullet and a hug. This one’s equal parts nightmare fuel, cosmic bureaucracy, and moonlit existential crisis. So grab your favourite beverage (preferably not something with a pulse), get cozy, and prepare to question every basement you’ve ever trusted. This is The Dungeon of Black Moon — where the walls watch, the floors bite, and your therapist might be a god.🕯️ SHORT EXTRA WEREWOLF STORY - Because I love werewolves! ---------------------------- THE MOON’S APPRENTICE 🐺 They used to send hunters after me with silver and sermons, but that was before the moon changed its hiring policy. The bite wasn’t a curse anymore; it was a promotion. I didn’t catch it from some snarling beast in the woods—I got it by invitation. A letter on my doorstep, sealed with wax that shimmered like frostbite, reading: “We’ve been watching your nights.” I thought it was a joke until the moonlight arrived early, spilling through the walls like liquid metal and asking questions in my own voice. It taught me to shift not by rage, but by rhythm—by the tempo of the city’s heartbeat, by the hum of streetlights. I don’t hunt flesh now; I collect moments. Every howl is a recording of something about to vanish—a memory, a secret, a name whispered in sleep. When I change, I’m not fur and fang; I’m reflection. The moon watches through me, cataloguing humanity before it goes extinct. I’m its archivist, its intern, its favorite pet project. On full nights, when the sky hums like old film, I feel it smile through me, proud of its work. The wolves were never predators. We were librarians. And tonight, the moon’s shelves are getting full. ----------------------------

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• BLACKSTONE | The Magic Detective 🕵️🕵️‍♂️🕵️‍♀️[Set of 3 Fully Repaired]

  G'DAAAY LEGENDS!!! 💜💜💜 **UPDATE** Currently in Germany at the moment but I wanted to the love your way through a remastered set of three episodes from Blackstone: The Magic Detective! 🕵️ Gather ‘round, legends — it’s time to step back into the golden age of mystery, suspense, and a touch of the supernatural. This week, we’ve unlocked three thrilling Old Time Radio episodes from Blakestone the Magic Detective for you to enjoy. Each story blends classic detective work with a flair for the bizarre — the kind of tales that keep you guessing until the very last line. 🔮 Featured Episodes: The Riddle of the Other Eight Ball A sinister puzzle begins with a simple pool hall game… but every shot hides a darker mystery. Can Blakestone untangle the deadly riddle before someone pays the ultimate price? The Deathless Shot A gunman who cannot miss. A bullet that never fails. And a trail of bodies left behind. Is this uncanny marksman blessed by skill alone, or cursed by something far stranger? The Knife from the Dark Murder lurks in the shadows, where a blade finds its victims before anyone can see the killer. Blakestone steps into the gloom, risking everything to reveal the unseen hand behind the terror. 🎧 Crystal Clear Restoration: These episodes have been carefully polished and restored. I went in with the Spectral Repair Tool to strip away distracting pops, hisses, and audio blemishes, enhancing the clarity so you can hear every whispered clue and every sharp note of tension. The result? A listening experience as close as possible to how it would’ve sounded when it first aired. The vocals in particular are what I've really repaired and I hope you love it! 💛 Thank you for keeping these stories alive — your support makes it possible for me to dig up and restore these gems from the past, and to share them with our community of mystery lovers. So brew yourself a cuppa, dim the lights, and let Blakestone the Magic Detective lead you into a world of danger, illusion, and razor-sharp intrigue. ✨ Enjoy the magic, — Tale Teller

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• The Nameless Offspring 🧐👹 [FINALE]

  💜 G’day you legends! 💜 This week we descend into the crumbling crypts of Clark Ashton Smith’s The Nameless Offspring—a tale drenched in gothic decay, cursed inheritances, and unspeakable horrors clawing their way back into the present! Smith, one of the great weird fiction masters of the early 20th century, gives us a story that feels part ghost tale, part nightmare folklore, and part grotesque family tragedy. It begins with whispers—the hushed voices of villagers, old retainers, and nameless folk who never dare speak too loudly of the Tremoth bloodline. That family carries a legacy not of pride, but of doom. The story unfolds with chilling inevitability: a decayed manor, an old crypt marked with the weight of centuries, and the whispered suggestion that the dead do not always rest. The offspring of the Tremoth line—the child that should never have been—waits within, a living curse that embodies everything vile and unnatural in their name. What makes this tale worth your ears isn’t just the monster—it’s the atmosphere. Smith’s prose drips like candle wax, sealing you into a world where: Legacy becomes a curse. Bloodlines hold more than wealth—they can chain you to horrors you cannot escape. The past refuses to die. A tomb is never just stone—it’s a womb for what should never return. The monstrous is inherited. Sometimes the real terror isn’t what you meet in the dark, but what was always waiting in your blood. If Maupassant’s The Horla was horror of the unseen—the slow suffocation of an invisible parasite—then Smith gives us its opposite: horror made flesh. This time the terror is not subtle, not spectral. It breaks stone, screams in the dark, and demands to be seen. So dim the lights, lean close, and join me in the Tremoth crypt. The stones are old, the silence is heavy, and inside… something nameless is waiting. Thank you, as always, for supporting me and keeping these tales alive. You are the torchbearers in the tomb. Without you, the stories would stay buried. – Your Tale Teller 💜💜💜

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• The Horla [Finale] & The Nameless Offspring

  G’day you legends!!!! 🥰🥰🥰🥰 Tonight we close the chapter on Guy de Maupassant’s The Horla—a story that began with unease, spiralled into possession, and ended in fire and despair. Our poor narrator, crushed beneath the weight of an invisible parasite, finds his final act of rebellion is not survival, but destruction. And yet, the question lingers: did he truly defeat the creature, or did madness itself light the match? What makes this ending so haunting is its tragic inevitability. Maupassant, battling his own demons and hallucinations at the time, poured his unravelling mind into these pages. The Horla is both a tale of horror and a personal cry from the abyss—an author writing about possession while being devoured by his own illness. That makes the story not just scary, but heart-breaking. But as one tale closes, another door creaks open. We move now into the twisted imagination of Clark Ashton Smith—a master of the macabre, a contemporary of Lovecraft, and a poet who wielded horror like a blade. Our next descent takes us to The Nameless Offspring—a story of family curses, ancient crypts, and something unspeakable lurking in the dark vaults of inheritance. So steel yourself, dear listeners. We have left the invisible predator of The Horla… only to descend into the tomb where bloodlines curdle, and things best left buried are clawing to rise. Information about the Traditional Horla: The Creature Description: The Horla is an unseen presence—never fully visible, yet undeniably real. It lingers in rooms, shifting curtains, pressing against its victim in the night, draining vitality sip by sip. Unlike folkloric vampires, it consumes life force rather than blood, leaving its host hollowed, sleepless, and hopeless. It is described as foreign, alien, and superior—suggesting an otherworldly predator feeding on humankind like cattle. Horla's Abilities: Invisibility: Cannot be directly perceived by human eyes, only through indirect signs (shadows, disturbances, breath, water consumption). Vitality Drain: Slowly drains life energy, causing fatigue, hallucinations, paranoia, and eventual madness. Possession Influence: Compels its victim into irrational acts, bending the will until they can no longer resist. Heightened Fear: Victims report overwhelming dread and paranoia in its presence, amplifying its control. 🔮 Weaknesses Unclear Defenses: Traditional protections (holy symbols, medicine, reason) fail against it. Fire: In the tale, the victim attempts to destroy it through burning—though whether it works remains ambiguous. Awareness: Recognizing its existence is both a curse and a potential defense—those ignorant of it may fall more easily. Thank you leeegends, all of you are SPECTACULAR and thank you so much for your ongoing support 💜💜💜💜

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