Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 40: Haunted

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

A skeptical paranormal investigator enters an abandoned house, oblivious to the dark secret hidden within.

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Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

The Mirrors of Kathos

The mirrors of Kathos do not show us as we are. They may show who we were or who we will be, glimpses of the future or visions of the past, or maybe nothing at all. Today I was a young boy, peering curiously through the glass. I had come hoping to see into my future, to say what lay beyond the immutable veil of time, but the tall mirror, stretching from the bare stone floor up to the vaulted ceiling, showed only what I had been years ago.

                The noise of the bustling streets, crowded and vibrant, hot under the glaring sun, was muffled by the many steps and heavy wooden doors that led into the Hall of Mirrors. It was cool within. An occasional shout from a street vendor floated through, rendered soft and wordless by the placid stone.

                “Do you remember what you saw?” a voice asked, and I turned to see Aybar, keeper of the mirrors, watching me.

                “I don’t know what you mean.”

                “On that day, when you came to look,” he said.

                I turned back to the mirror and now saw that Aybar stood in the room behind the young boy. A lean figure in dark robes, only his pointed chin and thin-lipped mouth showed beneath his hood. Gaunt hands emerged white from the black folds, clasped in front of him.

                “Is this a specific day?” I asked, watching myself with renewed fascination. “I have no memory of it. What did I see?”

                Aybar sighed. “You were such a lonely child, Kalem. Always looking, always yearning.”

               He took a gauzy white cloth from his robes and knelt by the mirror. When I stepped aside, the young boy vanished. There was only Aybar, and in the mirror, he also knelt. Two dark figures, palms moving in perfect unison across the glass with the cloth between.

                “Look,” I said in wonder. “It shows you as you are.”

                Aybar’s hand paused, and his reflection’s did the same. “Does it? I’ve never looked into the mirror.”

                “Never?” I was astounded. This hall was as good as his home; he was here each day tending to the mirrors. His presence filled every memory I had of the place, since I first came here as a child, running up the steps to stare with awe at the mysteries contained within. “Why have you never looked?”

                He straightened up and moved to the next mirror in the row lining the hall. When he began his washing again, his reflection followed. “Make the choice because you see it in the mirror or make the choice and it will appear. It makes no difference. I’ve never looked, so there is nothing to see.”

                As if in reflex, he reached up and tugged the dark hood further over his eyes. He may have meant to dissuade me, but he had told me the secret of the Hall. I wasn’t just seeing visions of my future but my own face looking back at me. If I came here, as I knew I would, in ten, twenty, fifty years, then I could find myself and see what lay before me. There were more mirrors beyond this hall, twisting hallways and echoing chambers.

                “Maybe another,” I said, turning away.

                Aybar’s hand reached out to grab me, tendons straining against his papery skin. “Leave it, Kalem. You will only leave more of yourself behind.”

                I shrugged him off and crossed the hall to where it narrowed to a thin hallway. Aybar was watching me, for once the dark hood lifted, and his eyes, still in shadow, were sorrowful. Other halls branched out, stairs climbing up or spiraling down, doorways opening into great rooms, every surface lined with mirrors. Some had sharp, naked edges; others were fitted in elaborate gilt or wooden frames. I went to the heart of the place, further than I had ever gone before, straight onward until I came to a heavy wooden door. It creaked open to reveal a dingier chamber. Dust slithered across the floor, disturbed by my entry; the light was thin and still. I slid inside.

                Mirrors crowded the walls and crept onto the ceiling. I walked through a crystal. The edges of the world distorted, repeated, stretched and diminished, disorienting in its constant repetitions. The motes in the air stirred by my feet were multiplied infinitely, like dull stars. My steps echoed against the glass. I was there in each mirror that I looked to. Endless variations of myself flitted before my eyes, but none showed what I searched for.

                Something flickered at the edge of my sight. When I turned, it vanished. When I began to walk, it was there again. A shimmer in my peripheries, darting away and dancing between the mirrors as I tried to catch a glimpse of it.

                “Aybar?” My voice shuddered through the chamber.

                There was no answer. I walked on, thinking myself disoriented. What light there was danced and leapt wildly, and I ignored the sensation of something there, behind me, shifting from mirror to mirror. I walked, and it walked with me.

                At the far end of the chamber, there was a wall of mirror; the end of the place. A single mirror stood in a solid frame, not mounted on the wall but sitting in a stand, infinite wooden legs spreading out from where it touched the mirrored floor.

                I turned to look back at the hall, vast in its endless reflections. Infinite, yet empty. Full of only itself, reflection upon reflection of nothingness. But when I turned back, the mirror in front of me on its stand was not empty. It had shattered, black veins running away from a pitted wound. It was bleeding drops of scarlet. A dark figure was crumpled on the floor, motionless.

                I reached a hand to touch the shards. They were warm, and though I hadn’t been cut, I drew my fingertips away bloody. Through the broken glass, I saw now that my own face stared up at me from within, pale and lifeless, eyes wide. The figure twitched, a violent spasm, and gathered itself. A hand, fingertips bloodied, surged through the mirror.

                My hand.

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 39: Rosemary

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

Rosemary, a little old lady with a dark secret, decides to get a pet cat. Her attempt to get one goes spectacularly awry.

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Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 38: The Honest Half

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

Vari discovers the dark secret locked away behind the heavy wooden door in the smoke-stained kitchens.

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Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 37: Unintended Consequences

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

Humanity’s attempts to manufacture a better world have some unintended consequences.

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Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 36: What Happened That Night

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

Clarence encounters a terrified young woman on the road and is swept into her bloody tale.

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Narration by James Barnett from The Night’s End podcast. Visit nightsendpodcast.com or follow on Instagram @nightsendpodcast & Facebook @nightsendpod

Other Voices in Order of Appearance:
R. E. Rule (rerulewrites.com)
Frank Nawrot (franknawrot.com)
Dutcher Snedeker (dutchersnedeker.com)
Gretchen Pille (gretchenpille.com)

Music by Frank Nawrot and Amy Beach
featuring James Alexander on cello

Production by Frank Nawrot

Production Assistants:

Matthew Ferrandino
John C. L. Jansen (johnjansenmusic.com)

What Happened That Night was written by R. E. Rule


Join Tiny Tales on Facebook @thetinytalespodcast & Twitter @TinyTalesShow

Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 35: Nisus III

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

A group of researchers have found a foothold in space and settle there under the watchful eyes of the native species. 

Find more platforms on our website: www.tinytalespodcast.com

Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 34: The Faces of Ardune

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

A traveler seeks to defy the shadow of the mountain and discovers that may not be as easy as it seems.

Find more platforms on our website: www.tinytalespodcast.com

Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 33: Eternity

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

Past eternity lie wonders beyond comprehension, but none shall pass empty handed.

Music for today’s episode was written by Matthew Ferrandino.

Find more platforms on our website: www.tinytalespodcast.com

Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule

Tiny Tales Podcast Ep. 32: Little Red

Tiny Tales is a weekly podcast of short stories spanning horror, fantasy, comedy, and everything in between. Written and narrated by R. E. Rule. Music and production by Frank Nawrot (www.franknawrot.com).


This Week’s Episode:

Through the dark mouth of the forest, down the winding path, the wolf is waiting.

Find more platforms on our website: www.tinytalespodcast.com

Support us on Patreon: www.patreon.com/rerule

More soon!

~ R. E. Rule