iiinova — where your digital self keeps evolving

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 23h

With The Smothing of Dunsop Bridge, I wanted to write a piece of folklore that never existed, but might have. Something rooted closely enough in a real place, and old rural warnings that, for a moment at least, you might wonder whether I had made any of it up. LINK IN COMMENTS #Edvane #Folklore

130

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 23h

#vss365 The wizard left his apprentice a single #bequest. Most pages of the book were blank, but each year a new spell appeared. He learned them all. In the twentieth year, a final spell appeared. Beneath it, his master had written, “Now you are ready. You may bring me back.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval fantasy illustration. An apprentice studies an ancient spellbook by candlelight, unaware that his dead wizard master is forming from cold grey smoke behind him and reaching towards his shoulder. A parchment panel tells how twenty years of magical lessons culminate in one final instruction, “Now you are ready. You may bring me back.”

194

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 29/09/2026

#vss365 The headsman lowered his axe. “A royal #reprieve,” he announced. The prisoner sagged with relief as the crowd groaned. Then the castle gates opened. An impossibly tall, antlered creature stepped into the square. “His Majesty has sent a different executioner.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval fantasy illustration. A condemned prisoner stands beside a bloodstained execution block as a hooded headsman unties him. The prisoner looks in horror toward open castle gates, where an impossibly tall, corpse-grey creature with huge branching antlers and elongated limbs enters the muddy square. The surrounding crowd recoils in fear. A parchment panel on the left contains the #vss365 story about a royal reprieve and the arrival of a different executioner.

042

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 28/09/2026

#vss365 She carried the smoking bundle through every room, whispering the words as bitter herbs filled the house. “Smoke will #purify what lives here,” the old woman had promised In the bedroom, the smoke curled around her sleeping husband and turned black. She stared at him... #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A dark folkloric illustration beside a parchment story panel. In a candlelit old bedroom, a tense woman holds a smouldering bundle of herbs over her newly awakened husband. Pale grey smoke twists through the room but becomes thick, oily black around the man in bed, with ambiguous tendrils curling through the shadows. The scene is framed by a thin antiquarian border.

082

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 27/09/2026

#vss365 The witchfinder raised the torch. “#Renounce the Devil, and God may yet forgive you.” She smiled through broken teeth. “I did, a decade ago.” Behind him, the church burst into flames, its bell crashing to the ground. His own men seized him. “Now I work alone,” she said #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark folkloric fantasy scene beside a burning medieval church. A furious witchfinder is seized by two of his own men, whose eyes are completely black under supernatural control. A pale, black-haired witch in dark Gothic clothing stands calmly before them, bruised but composed, as the church burns and its bell falls from the collapsing tower. A parchment panel at left contains the #vss365 story.

183

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 26/09/2026

#vss365 Mother Green took in every orphan girl the village abandoned. “Even the unwanted will flourish with enough #nurture,” she said. Years later, they carried their wands and weapons to the castle gates. Mother Green had never wanted daughters. She wanted an army. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark folkloric fantasy illustration. Mother Green, an elderly woman in a dark green cloak, stands behind a group of grim young women armed with swords, bows, axes, spears and faintly glowing wands. They face the closed gates of a vast medieval castle at dusk, dressed in worn cloaks and mismatched armour with subtle green tokens linking them together. A parchment panel reveals that Mother Green raised abandoned orphan girls not as daughters, but as an army.

182

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

What if the folklore we think of as ancient was simply invented by somebody who made it stick? King Arthur became a chough. Children’s rhymes acquired meanings. Writers filled the gaps. In this post, I say Folklore is up for grabs. It always has been. LINK IN COMMENTS #Edvane #Folklore

120

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 25/09/2026

#vss365 “I #reckon it fled to the caves,” Fredor said. “A beast that size leaves tracks.” Tanner snorted. “No dice, it’s above us.” The mossy boulder beside them exhaled a hot, sulphuric breath, and two yellow eyes opened. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark fantasy illustration of two medieval hunters arguing in a damp, mossy forest. One studies a map while the other points towards the ridge, neither noticing that the huge moss-covered boulder beside them is alive. Two wet yellow reptilian eyes stare from its stony surface as warm breath curls into the cold air. A parchment panel on the left contains the #vss365 story text.

0114

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 24/09/2026

#vss365 When famine arrived, the Fear Gorta came begging at each cottage door. Some shared what little they had. Others cursed his #hunger and drove him back into the cold. By spring, the generous houses had full larders. In the others, they were eating the dead. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A dark Irish folklore scene inside a poor stone cottage. In the open doorway, the unnaturally tall, skeletal Fear Gorta stands full-length in pouring rain, one hand extended for food. A father raises a hand to refuse him while his anxious wife and two children watch beside a rough table with a single loaf. A parchment panel tells how generous households survived the famine, while in the others, “they were eating the dead.”

083

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 23/09/2026

#vss365 A sculptor worked by candlelight, carving his dead wife from black marble. Such was his #passion that every vein, lash and wrinkle returned beneath his hands. Eventually, the statue opened its eyes. He wept with joy. Then she whispered, “You buried me alive.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark Gothic illustration of a candlelit Victorian sculptor’s workshop. A dishevelled sculptor joyfully touches the face of a life-sized woman carved entirely from black marble. Her eyes are open and stark, featureless white as she stares accusingly at him. Chisels, marble dust and candles surround them. A parchment panel tells how he carved his supposedly dead wife back to life, only for her to whisper, “You buried me alive.”

082

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 22/09/2026

In Emmie and the Black Orchard, I wanted to use a dark fairy tale to explore the cost of love: sacrificing even the memory of having loved. It created a nasty paradox. Everyone remembers who they love because Emmie agrees to be the one person who cannot. LINK IN COMMENTS #Edvane #FairyTale

110

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 22/09/2026

#vss365 The SS Chimbayo was due to #embark for Alaska with machinery, lamp oil and winter provisions. She departed on time, but never arrived. Decades later, she steamed into harbour through January fog. Every man aboard was dead. All of them were frozen upright at their posts. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark maritime fantasy illustration of the long-lost SS Chimbayo gliding into a frozen Alaskan harbour through dense January fog. The steamship is heavily coated in ice and icicles, with its dead crew frozen upright at their posts, including the helmsman gripping the wheel and a lookout high on the mast. Shocked dockworkers watch from the snowy quay, one holding a mooring line from the ship. A parchment panel tells how the vessel vanished en route to Alaska and returned decades later with every man aboard frozen dead.

095

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 21/09/2026

#vss365 On a #stormy crossing, the crew of a steamer sighted another vessel pacing them through the rain. Its decks were crowded with dancing skeletons and drowned men in rotting evening clothes, glasses raised beneath strings of yellow lamps... #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark fantasy maritime illustration. During a violent night storm, terrified sailors aboard a coastal steamer watch the long-lost SS Cowper steaming alongside through black, heaving seas. Warm yellow lamps illuminate her crowded decks, where skeletons and drowned Victorians in decaying evening clothes dance, drink and celebrate as though at an elegant party, oblivious to the living witnesses. The ship’s name, SS COWPER, is visible on her stern beneath smoke, driving rain and lightning.

0104

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 20/09/2026

#vss365 Baron Ludlow ended the thirty-year #conflict by marrying his daughter to his enemy’s son. The wedding lasted three days, and both houses swore the old hatred was buried. The next morning, the bride was found hanging from the gate. Pinned to her dress was the treaty #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A dark fantasy illustration of a grim medieval castle gate at cold dawn. A dead bride in a pale, tattered wedding gown hangs beneath the Gothic arch, a blood-marked peace treaty pinned prominently to her dress. Guards and servants stare up from a courtyard littered with wilted wedding flowers, torn decorations and abandoned feast debris. Ravens perch on the battlements beneath a bruised grey-blue sky. A parchment panel at left tells how Baron Ludlow ended a thirty-year conflict through his daughter’s marriage, only for her to be found dead the following morning with the treaty signed in her father’s blood.

052

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 19/09/2026

#vss365 On Thursday, the miners broke through into a cavern no map recorded. Inside stood a forest of crystal trees. For hours they wandered in #marvel, touching leaves as cold as winter glass. Then one man found his own name carved into a trunk, followed by ‘Friday’. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A dark Victorian-style illustration shows miners exploring a vast underground forest of luminous crystal trees. Cold blue-white branches tower into the cavern while the miners’ lanterns cast small pools of amber light. One miner stands apart, touching a crystal trunk carved with the name “EDWARD” and, beneath it, “FRIDAY”. An aged parchment panel contains the accompanying story.

2186

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 18/09/2026

#vss365 Lettie found the hole beneath the hawthorn where the rabbits ought to have burrowed. It was much too large for them, and someone had cut little steps into the earth. She fetched a candle. She had always wanted to #explore somewhere nobody else had been...

Late-Victorian Gothic storybook illustration in muted sepia and earthy tones. Above ground, a young girl named Lettie descends candlelit steps into a large hole beneath a flowering hawthorn tree. A cutaway reveals an underground chamber tangled with thick roots, where the mole-like Mr Talp waits in an old-fashioned dark coat, calmly tending the roots. Three other young girls are already held among the twisting roots around the chamber. The left third contains the story text on an aged parchment panel bordered with hawthorn.

072

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 17/09/2026

#vss365 At harvest, the villagers left one acre standing for the corn demons. Animals, and sometimes children, strayed into it and vanished. The elders said such losses were the price required to sustain the demons and spare the village. When famine came, they cut every stalk...

A dark folklore illustration of a harvested cornfield beneath a full moon. Tall, skeletal corn demons with bodies of blackened stalks, husks and twisted leaves emerge from a ruined patch of corn and advance towards a small village. Several have already reached the cottages, where warm light spills from open doors and windows. The left parchment panel contains a #vss365 story revealing that the acre of standing corn was not food for the demons, but their cage.

054

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 16/09/2026

#vss365 For a hundred years, a Potioneer kept one brew simmering beneath his tower. On the final night, he took up a silver spoon. “One stir,” his master’s notes promised, “and the work may #commence.” He stirred. Something beneath grasped the spoon and stirred back. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A 16:9 dark fantasy illustration framed by a thin antiquarian border. The left third is a parchment text panel containing a short #vss365 story about a Potioneer who has kept a black brew simmering for a hundred years and, when he finally stirs it, something beneath grasps the spoon and stirs back. The right two-thirds show an underground alchemical chamber of stone arches, shelves of jars, dried herbs and skulls. An elderly, gaunt Potioneer in dark robes leans over a huge iron cauldron, his face lit by firelight and fixed in shock. He grips a long silver spoon, while from the glossy black surface of the potion a black claw-like hand emerges just far enough for its fingertips to seize the spoon. The scene is lit with deep shadows, orange fire beneath the cauldron, and a mood of sudden, intimate horror. “edvane.world” appears at bottom right.

072

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 15/09/2026

#vss365 The woods turned #autumnal as he crossed them, green leaves reddening above him while blackthorn burst from the earth and hooked his coat, his skin, and his hair. When the Cailleach stepped from between the trees, he begged to know why the change had come so soon...

A dark Irish folklore scene at dusk. On a narrow woodland path, a man is trapped in violently sprouting blackthorn as the surrounding leaves shift unnaturally from green to deep autumn reds. Ahead stands the ancient Cailleach, grey-haired and cloaked, holding a staff and looking past him towards a distant cottage with one warmly lit window. Cold mist and frost gather around her, while the unseen threat she warns of remains beyond the image.

0101

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 14/09/2026

#vss365 He was strangely #sanguine about the king’s illness. Each morning the fever worsened. A week later, the king died. As the bells began to toll, the physician slipped the empty poison vial back into his case. “Nothing to fear, Highness,” he said, and bowed to the new king #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval royal bedchamber lit by candles. A dead king lies beneath heavy red curtains while grieving courtiers stand nearby. In the foreground, a black-robed physician bows to the richly dressed new king while discreetly slipping an empty poison vial into an open medical case. A distant bell tower is visible through the window. The left third contains the #vss365 story on parchment, bordered by a thin antiquarian frame.

052

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 13/09/2026

#vss365 The people feared the old woman’s #esoteric rituals. Once a year, she buried thirteen black candles around the village and warned them never to dig them up. When she died, the priest ordered every candle burned... #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark Gothic historical illustration of a medieval chapel at night. A dead priest lies across a stone altar with thirteen black candles burning low directly upon his body, wax spilling over his dark vestments. Frightened villagers watch from the shadowed doorway by lantern light. A parchment panel at left contains the #vss365 story about an old woman’s esoteric ritual and the thirteen candles.

071

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 12/09/2026

#vss365 The condemned witch was spared because of her #eloquence. The king freed every prisoner in the dungeons and opened the city gates. The prisoners armed themselves. His enemies marched in. “I only had to teach you mercy, Majesty. They already knew what to do with it.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval illustration of a castle courtyard after a violent uprising. An attractive dark-haired witch bows calmly as armed rebels drag a dishevelled, richly dressed king towards a wooden scaffold and waiting executioner. Behind them, prisoners and enemy soldiers pour through the open gates amid smoke, fire, fallen banners and bodies. A parchment panel on the left contains the #vss365 story about the witch’s eloquence turning the king’s mercy against him.

042

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 11/09/2026

#vss365 A girl left a bowl of milk outside each night for the terror in the woods, and they mocked her #naivete. Her father laughed hardest. A year later, every house but theirs stood empty. He asked why they had been spared. “It said you had to be last, Father.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Alt text: Dark antiquarian folklore illustration. A pale, emotionally drained young girl stands with her increasingly terrified father immediately outside their lamplit cottage, beside a bowl of milk at the forest’s edge. Beyond them, the abandoned village lies dark and empty. Among the trees, an impossibly tall presence is almost indistinguishable from trunks and shadows, with only two faint eyes visible high in the branches. A parchment panel carries the #vss365 story about the girl’s naivete and the revelation that her father has been saved for last.

021

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 10/09/2026

Back in early August, when @bethcgreenberg.com hosted #vss365, I posted this, and Beth and I had a brief exchange about it on Bluesky. She declared, 'I would read that story!' and so I present 'An Old Family Recipe' here today. LINK IN COMMENTS #Edvane

220

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 10/09/2026

#vss365 They found it beneath the old apothecary, a #melange of man, beast and devils, stitched together by twisted hands. It opened six different eyes. The priest called it an abomination. The mayor called it impossible. Then its mouths opened too. “Wrong, sirs. We are hungry.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A 16:9 Gothic horror illustration styled like a richly coloured 19th-century engraving. A parchment panel on the left contains the #vss365 story. On the right, beneath an ancient apothecary, a grotesque stitched creature looms from a cluttered candlelit chamber. Its impossible body combines human flesh, scales, hide, horns and demonic tissue, with mismatched limbs, six different eyes and several ravenous mouths opening across its body. A terrified priest and mayor recoil before it amid cloudy specimen jars, hanging herbs, surgical instruments and bloodstained equipment. The whole image is enclosed by a thin antiquarian border.

0112

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 10/09/2026

*How to let an object tell its own story*. The object as narrator is rarely used well in fantasy. When it works, the thing remembers everything, stripping away the consolation of human perspective and leaving no escape from the moment. #Edvane #DarkFantasy LINK IN COMMENTS

100

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 09/09/2026

#vss365 The witchfinder claimed #intuition told him which women served the Devil, without evidence. The midwife burned first. Then the widow. Then the miller’s daughter. At his fourth trial, the accused woman smiled. “Of course you can recognise us,” she said. “You created us.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark historical-fantasy illustration of a late-17th-century witch trial. A calm, restrained woman gives the uneasy witchfinder a faint knowing smile inside a timber courtroom. Outside, three burned stakes still smoke, with three ghostly female shapes barely visible in the drifting haze. The left panel contains the #vss365 story about “intuition” and ends: “You created us.”

041

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 08/09/2026

#vss365 The fishermen laughed when Old Meg stepped onto the #moonglade and walked out across the sea. Drunk and daring, they rowed after her silver path. Their boat drifted back empty. Meg was waiting near the shore. “Fools,” she said. “The moon only shows you where to drown.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A 16:9 antiquarian maritime illustration. On the left, a weathered parchment panel contains a dark #vss365 tale about Gloucester fishermen following the witch Old Meg onto a moonlit path across the sea and never returning. On the right, an elderly woman in dark, windblown New England clothing stands calmly on the rocky Gloucester shore beneath heavy clouds. An empty wooden fishing boat, with a loose oar trailing beside it, drifts back along a brilliant silver moonglade beneath the full moon. Dark water, sea spray, distant harbour buildings and a lighthouse create an ominous 19th-century folklore atmosphere.

052

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 07/09/2026

In The Children of Bradfield Wood, I wanted to reimagine the Green Children of Woolpit: not as monsters, nor as victims of a monstrous forest, but as children put there by the real monster. Their father. Some adult, somewhere, knew the truth. LINK IN COMMENT #Edvane #Folklore

141

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 07/09/2026

#vss365 The monk found a #palimpsest beneath the monastery’s oldest Bible. He scraped away the holy text and read the words hidden underneath. They described his birth. His childhood. His taking of vows. Then his hand stopped. The next line read: He has found us #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval illustration of a monk studying a scraped palimpsest by candlelight in a cramped monastic scriptorium. He stares grimly at the manuscript while several pale, almost invisible human faces watch from the deep shadows behind him. A parchment panel tells the story, ending: “He has found us.”

073

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 06/09/2026

#vss365 The thief was #adroit enough to lift rings from sleeping bishops. So when he saw the old librarian dozing beside a chained, jewel-bound book, he almost laughed. The librarian opened one eye. “Careful,” he murmured. The thief looked down. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval fantasy illustration of a candlelit monastic library. A shocked thief recoils from a chained, jewel-bound manuscript, his severed hand still gripping the book while his wrist ends in a bloody stump. Beside him, an elderly spectacled librarian remains seated, looking bored and barely disturbed. The #vss365 story appears on a parchment panel to the left.

0111

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 05/09/2026

#vss365 The captain sent six men to #reconnoitre the sorcerer’s tower. He watched blue fire take the first, stone hands drag down the second, and something winged carry off the rest. His lieutenant swallowed. “You knew?” “Of course, now we know what spells he's used up. ” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval fantasy illustration. A horrified lieutenant and a calm, calculating captain watch from a rocky ridge as six raiders are destroyed approaching a sinister sorcerer’s tower. One burns in blue fire, another is seized by stone hands, and a winged creature carries a man away. The story text and #Edvane #vss365 #reconnoitre appear on the left.

072

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 04/09/2026

#vss365 Every evening, Enoch admired the fashionable #silhouette works above his fireplace. Tonight, though, his wife’s portrait had changed. It stood behind him, holding a knife. He laughed and reached for the bell. Behind him, the floorboard creaked. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark Victorian parlour lit by fire and candles. Enoch sits smiling in an armchair, reaching for a servant bell while studying four framed silhouette portraits above the fireplace. One has changed to show his wife standing behind him with a raised knife. In the room itself, his real wife approaches silently from the shadows, holding a blade at her side. A text panel on the left contains the #vss365 story.

081

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 03/09/2026

#vss365 The merchant watched the hag grind bone, dried blood and strips of human flesh into her steaming #elixir. “You swear this will extend my life?” “Oh, certainly,” she said, handing him the cup. “Every man I’ve made it from has been dead for centuries.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark seventeenth-century apothecary scene. A richly dressed merchant cautiously sips a steaming elixir while eyeing a filthy, eager hag beside him. The table and shelves are crowded with powdered bone, jars of dried blood and flesh, teeth, a skull and hanging human remains. Left panel contains the #vss365 story text; #Edvane #vss365 #elixir.

1152

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 02/09/2026

Happy to reveal that one of my witchy short stories will appear in Curses and Crystals, an R-Rated anthology from Dragon Soul Press at the end of November Print and eBook will be available. Subscribe to my newsletter for updates (link in bio) #Edvane #Witches

020

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 02/09/2026

#vss365 The old #console table had stood in the hall for decades. Every owner complained that it was ugly, warped and far too heavy. When Thomas finally took an axe to its legs, the table screamed, became a huge black ox, trampled him to death and ran away. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

dark seventeenth-century manor hall where a huge black ox with glowing ember-red eyes bursts violently from a shattered console table. Carved wood and a drawer front remain embedded in its body as it tramples Thomas, who lies on the flagstones beside his fallen axe. Candlelight catches flying splinters and the ox’s massive horns. A text panel on the left contains the #vss365 story.

061

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 01/09/2026

#vss365 Lariel was famously #empathetic. She felt every grief brought to her door. People left lighter. She grew quieter. When they found her hanging in the chapel, the whole village wept. Then, one by one, they began remembering what she had taken from them. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Alt text: Dark medieval folkloric illustration split between a parchment story panel and a candlelit stone chapel. Lariel, a village healer, hangs peacefully from a roof beam above grieving villagers. Several mourners react with sudden horror as forgotten grief, betrayal and guilt return to them. Fine black-grey smoky threads descend from Lariel towards the villagers, subtly revealing the supernatural connection.

032

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 31/08/2026

#vss365 Aberysh the Healer poured hot #wax across the poor woman’s chest, chanting as she screamed. “Hold still. I’m drawing the sickness out.” Her cries ceased. She was dead. Then the wax dripping from the bed began crawling together. He had certainly drawn something out. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval folkloric illustration. In a cramped candlelit healer’s cottage, a dead woman lies on a rough bed with cooling yellow wax across her chest. Wax drips to the floor and gathers into a malformed, half-formed creature with long limbs and a hollow head. Aberysh the Healer recoils in horror, still holding the pouring vessel. A parchment panel at left contains the #vss365 story, with #Edvane #vss365 #wax and edvane.world.

072

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 31/08/2026

I wrote the bulk of Night of the Broken Oath in 1989 at the age of 21. Editing it in my fifties was a way to finish, but also to work alongside younger me without tutting and wagging my finger at the effort. It has become my most-read short story this year. LINK IN COMMENT #Edvane #Tolkien

110

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 30/08/2026

#vss365 The mob closed around Mina’s cottage. “Come down and face your fate, witch!” She climbed onto the roof, smiling, and rubbed nightshade along the handle of her broom. Then she rose into the dark. “I’ve seen every face below me. Sleep well, fools.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval illustration. An angry torchlit mob surrounds a crooked cottage at night, their faces exposed as they stare upward. On the roof, Mina stands calmly beneath a full moon, holding a simple broom as if about to take flight. A text panel tells how she marks the broom with nightshade before warning the villagers: “I’ve seen every face below me. Sleep well, fools.”

072

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 29/08/2026

#vss365 The executioner always wore one black #glove, even when he was off duty. Children whispered that the hand beneath it was cursed. When he died, the priest removed the glove. There was no hand. Just five small fingers gripping his wrist from inside. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A dark antiquarian-style illustration split into a parchment text panel and a medieval death chamber. A dead executioner lies on a narrow bed while a priest stands beside him holding an empty black glove. The corpse’s exposed forearm ends in a healed stump, with a tiny black shrivelled hand clinging around the wrist from beneath. Three children peer through the open doorway from a cold grey village street, watching in horror.

0102

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 28/08/2026

#vss365 A surgeon kept every scrap of #tissue he cut from his patients, sealed in little jars beneath his floorboards. Once discovered, officials ordered them incinerated. The same day, every patient he had ever saved was gone. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A dark Victorian medical-gothic illustration. Two sombre officials search a surgeon’s study, discovering rows of small stoppered specimen jars hidden beneath lifted floorboards. One examines the jars while the other compares a labelled specimen with an open patient ledger. Faded portraits and thank-you notes from former patients cover the wall behind them, suggesting a personal connection to each jar. A small orange furnace glows through a distant doorway. The left panel contains the #vss365 story about the surgeon preserving tissue from every patient he saved.

094

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 27/08/2026

#vss365 Every night, an old woman left a #pillow beside her own for her husband, though he had been dead for twenty years. Her children thought it a harmless grief. After she died, they stripped the bed. Beneath the second pillow was a hollow in the mattress, warm and breathing. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark Victorian bedroom. Three adult children stare in horror at their late mother’s bed as one holds a removed pillow. Beneath it, the old mattress shows a faint, sleeper-like impression, subtly rising as though breathing. Ornate border and #vss365 story text at left.

1162

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 26/08/2026

#vss365 The #poster nailed to the church door named a fugitive hiding in the forest and ordered every able man to join the hue and cry. By evening, the whole village was beating through the trees. They found no fugitive. The thing that had written the poster found them. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark medieval fantasy illustration. Villagers armed with spears, axes, staffs and lanterns search an ancient forest at dusk after a proclamation orders a hue and cry for a fugitive. An aged parchment notice bears a crude woodcut portrait. Among the trees behind the searchers, an enormous long-limbed creature lurks almost invisibly in the shadows, revealing that the supposed fugitive created the notice to lure the villagers into the forest.

1103

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 25/08/2026

#vss365 Sailors found an island where no chart showed land. Its cliffs were pale and soft beneath the knife. Fresh water seeped from them when squeezed, so the crew filled every barrel. Beneath the shredded #sponge, the Kraken stirred and rose to reclaim its pillow. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark maritime fantasy illustration. Sailors aboard a small old sailing ship cut chunks from a vast pale sea sponge they have mistaken for an island, carrying dripping pieces back to barrels. Beneath the sponge, visible through the dark water, an enormous Kraken begins to wake, with tentacles uncoiling and one huge eye opening below its shredded covering. A text panel on the left contains the #vss365 story.

192

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 24/08/2026

#vss365 Every winter solstice, the villagers tied a red #cord around the oldest oak. It was said to keep a spirit chained. One year, a boy cut it, and nothing happened. The villagers laughed at their ancestors’ superstition. In spring no crops grew. The Blight Mother had awoken #Edvane #DarkFantasy

A vast ancient oak stands over fields blighted black and brown beneath an oppressive summer sky. A severed red cord trails from its trunk across the dead earth. A small boy stares at the ruined landscape while villagers gather in the distance. Beneath the exposed roots, the gaunt face and hands of the Blight Mother are almost hidden in the darkness.

0103

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 23/08/2026

Published Today. In Vermilion Cinders, Issue 2 of Gnome and Bone Magazine, my short story, The Red Lesson. #Edvane #DarkFantasy LINK IN COMMENT

240

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 23/08/2026

#vss365 The shipwrecked gambler clung to a plank for three days, with nothing left but his #dice. At last, certain he would die, he tossed them into the sea. A starfish surfaced beneath them and laid them back upon the plank. “Never throw away your last chance.”Beyond the waves, he saw land. #Edvane

Dark folkloric illustration of an exhausted shipwrecked gambler clinging to a broken wooden plank in a stormy sea. A large natural-looking starfish rises beside him, returning two bone dice on one raised arm. The astonished gambler stares at the dice while, beyond the dark waves, a distant island appears beneath a narrow break of dawn light. The left panel contains the #vss365 story, enclosed with the scene by a thin antiquarian border.

0113

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 22/08/2026

#vss365 Every night, Jenny's children helped her to leave out a bowl of clean water, a cake of soap and a fresh #towel beside the hearth for the Good Folk. #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark folkloric illustration of a mother and frightened child in a cold, dawn-lit cottage. An empty linen cupboard stands beside a stone hearth, black water fills a bowl on the floor, tiny wet footprints cross the flagstones, and a pair of small, pale fairy feet dangle ominously from the darkness high inside the chimney.

062

Jonathan B. Edvane @edvane.bsky.social · 21/08/2026

#vss365 The prison barber kept a #razor reserved for condemned men. He shaved each throat clean before the hanging, saying it was kinder that way. After thirty years, the prison was closed. He took the razor home. That night, it unfolded itself on the bedside table. “Your turn.” #Edvane #DarkFantasy

Dark folkloric illustration in a bordered 16:9 layout. On the left, text tells of a retired prison barber whose old razor unfolds itself and says, “Your turn.” On the right, an elderly man sits anxiously in bed, staring at the smaller upright razor on his bedside table. A faint human face appears in the blade. Warm sepia-brown lighting, antique storybook atmosphere, shaving mug and brush nearby. #Edvane #vss365 #razor

082