Is The Song Of Death Based On A Real Folktale?

The Horror Game invaded the world. Real players entered the game, and their every move would be broadcast live. My adopted son shoved me—an eighty-eight-year-old woman—straight into a deadly dungeon to save his own skin. One of the comments in the live stream predicted: [What? They’re tossing in such an elderly woman? No way she’s gonna survive the first night!] On the first night, a frost-bitten ghost exhaled icy breath in my face. I shrugged off my thick floral coat, feeling sorry for her. “You poor thing! You must be freezing. Listen to me and bundle up quickly!” The second night, a starving ghost lunged at me with blood dripping down his chin. I sniffed the air, then found a jar of pickled cabbage. “Look at how skinny you are! Come on, let me get you something hot to eat.” On the final day, the last surviving players tied me up, desperate to steal the one ticket to escape. However, before they could touch me, every ghost in the dungeon came storming out, cleavers and rolling pins in hand. “Touch her, and you’re dead meat!”

The forest within the quiet village of Gashea is a dangerous place. Within the trees lies something dark, cursed, and wicked. For centuries, a demon with malevolent power terrorizes the villagers of the small valley home. He had brought droughts, disease, and famine. To ensure that he will keep his powers at bay, the village of Gashea offers a bride to the demon every night. And by dawn, without fail, they would see the corpse of the offered brides floating along their bright, shining river. With the next choosing fast approaching, the head villagers made a shocking decision. They had chosen Fyn. A man. When Fyn starts to slowly fall in love with the demon within the forest, secrets of the past unravel. The truth makes them wonder whether it’s the right monster Gashea fears.

A priest has shown up at my first birthday party. He claims that I'm a cursed soul—that my presence will bring doom to those close to me, and my existence itself can snatch everyone's luck. The only way to counter this is to give me up to an orphanage and let me live a life of poverty and suffering. Without a family, I'll be able to overcome my fate as a cursed soul. Daddy has the priest cast out of our home immediately. Meanwhile, Mommy hugs me tightly. "My son is the luckiest boy in the whole wide world!" But everything has changed when my younger brother, Andy Lawson, has fallen off the 20th floor. His body is completely shattered from the fall. I can only stand by the window uneasily. Fear is evident in my eyes as I wave my hands with all my might. "It wasn't me! It really wasn't me!" The wind that day is very strong, but it can never drown out Mommy's cries. Daddy hoists me up and stuffs me into Andy's coffin. I keep latching onto the sides of the coffin to the point my fingers are all bloodied and trampled over. At the same time, I keep screaming for Mommy. Mommy stares at me blankly at first. But her hollow gaze is soon filled with hatred. "Why aren't you the one dead? That priest told us that you'll have to stay in the coffin for seven whole days and nights just to atone for your sins! Only then can Andy's soul rest in peace! "This is your fate and your sin, Adam!" The heavy lid slowly covers the coffin, soon sealing my hoarse cries and screams away. A long time later, a few voices ring out amid the sorrowful melody played by the organ. "Why is there a tiny gap in the coffin? Hurry up and nail it shut! We can't afford to have misfortune spread to us!" When the final nail is bolted onto the lid, I close my eyes. Mommy, Daddy, I'm no longer a cursed soul.

In the middle of a lively night, can you guess what's about to come? In the middle of the busy street, do you realize there is something in the dump? Shane Hoseinzade was peacefully sleeping on the floor when three conservative, loud knocks echoed inside. Would he open the door? On the other side, someone wearing a black cloak and holding a giant scythe is standing on the doorstep. With head bowed down, a pair of mismatched eyes glowed while staring at the door. Patiently waiting for the target to open the door. If you hear three violent knocks on your door at exactly midnight, would you dare to open the door? But what if those violent knocks are the knocks of the person you promised to marry in the future? Death? A grim reaper? A demon? Whoever it is, are you ready to face your fears?

Behind velvet curtains and gilded balconies, the opera is more than a performance. It's a hunting ground, a court of monsters disguised as patrons and benefactors. When a masked nobleman claims her talent as his own, Lyria is drawn into a world where music is power, restraint is survival, and desire is the most dangerous temptation of all. The longer Lyria remains under his protection, the more she awakens. Her body responds to hungers she does not yet understand and her are dreams invaded by a silver-eyed predator who promises freedom instead of restraint. As the opera's beauty curdles into something predatory, Lyria must decide what she is willing to become to survive it. The stage is watching. The city is listening. And once the blood sings, it cannot be silenced. TRIGGER/CONTENT WARNING: This story contains mature themes and content intended for adult audiences (18+) Reader discretion is advised. It includes moments of violence, sexual content and dark erotic elements, manipulation, obsession, and emotional power dynamics.

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.