In the Autumn of 1930, when the nation was enduring the Great Depression, and the city of Port Astor was attempting to survive a severe plague, many tried to stay connected with the wider world through their radios, if not find some mild form of escape from the dread of their lives. In that time of isolation, radio broadcasts was a godsend, and listenership was at an all-time high locally. All of this, by way of the local station, KPA, and its cast and crew. KPA was famous for its wide assortment of programming, including among its offerings was the first of now-common genres; drama, comedy, and talk.     It was a late Fall broadcast of their evening talk show, "Watt in The World?" with host Robert "Dour Bob" Wattson that led the station into perilous grounds. The show started a few minutes late, and with the host delivering the shows introduction and initial read for sponsor, Astor Ginger Ale, through heavy breathing. When Robert went to introduce the gue...

This is the third part and finale of this year's October series! Please go read part two if you have not already!       The golden light of morning shone through to paned window, and in front of you a fine breakfast. Your wife, a reporter for a local newspaper. You look upon your love, and she begins to speak, but her words are a mumble, almost underwater. You look into her eyes, the green eyes you loved so much, searching for her light, but... nothing. Then, like knives through a curtain, words.     " How long did you wait? "     " How long did you really feel that way about me? "     " How long did you pretend to miss me? "     " How long did you pretend to love me? "     You reel, your wife just sits there, beaming the same brilliant smile that she always had, looking up at you, eyes that devoured the light.     It comes back to you now. She disappeared last year, you remember the biting, haunting sorrow for h...

This is part two of the annual October series. Read part one if you haven't already! GHOST SHIP! By Valerie Kimpton     A long-missing vessel, THE EASTERN GLOAM , has resurfaced in Port Astor Harbor. While the city is under quarantine, few but the Coast Guard were able to try and dissuade this revenant from landing here in our plague-stricken city. Our official source, Lt. Boyle, said no one was left aboard after the boarding team explored the derelict from bow to stern. Out of abundant caution, Lt. Boyle said that the ship was to be towed out of the harbor, and eventually scuttled.     When we asked residents near the Astor Docks, however, we learned that there might be more to this story. One resident, under a condition of anonymity and speaking only through a closed window said that she spied a lone soul leaping from the drifting ship, then swimming to shore. Once upon land, our source continued, he simply vanished. Did our "valiant" serviceman lie to us when he c...

      During the lockdown, a ghost ship came into the harbor of Port Astor. With so much of the city in chaos or silence, few at the time even noticed its arrival. More did bother to pay attention, however, when word got out that an entire Coast Guard  boarding team vanished after boarding the vessel. When they sent the second team, no traces of the original crew of the ship, or the first boarding team were found.      The name of the ship was The Eastern Gloam, which was seen over a decade ago leaving for the Far East, with a crew of scholars and academics. And the only trace of anything they found aboard the ship was a carved phrase on a bulkhead: "LOAMY GLOAM".     Fearing another illness, the ship was towed out and eventually scuttled. Since then, however, a number of disappearances have been tied to the return of the ship, with the phrase "RETURN TO REST WITHIN  THE LOAMY GLOAM" showing up again and again over the years, and then us...

    Raquel's old sedan shuddered and shook in protest as she put it in reverse, and slid from her assigned spot at the apartment complex in which she lived. Her car was just as vocal in its seemed displeasure as she put it into drive, and set off. Raquel was on her way to Port Astor State University, to participate in a paid study. She had come up several-hundred dollars short on rent, and had felt saved when she saw the ad in the paper for the study. It was at one of the post-grad schools at the university-- something about philosophy? Religion? She couldn't recall, although it didn't really matter what was what. If she had to sit through several hours of students taking themselves entirely too seriously, and ask her overly vague questions, so be it.     And perhaps, she needed to talk to some of those types. Recently, she had had some problems enter her life, and she had no idea how to address them. Specifically, vivid dreams of church, of all things, and aversion ...

      Hello Dr. Zann,     I hope that this missive reaches you in good health in these trying times. It has come to my attention that you still fully intend to commit to your planned procedure regarding certain properties of physical translocationality, despite our spirited conversation held previously in happier times.      I implore to once again: reconsider .     As was covered in that conversation, and repeated again here for emphasis, what you plan to do will react poorly with at least several other goings-on, which will in turn affect certain aspects of material resonance of our vaunted Stone Hall. As such, we cannot know or even pretend to know what would come of your sundering of the local environs, no matter how "mitigated " or " contained ".  To put in even more stark terms; should you do this, we would have no idea where you would even go, and there would be no rescue. Just as well, this is to say nothing of the suspect...

      Port Astor State University is the premier higher education facility in the State of Jefferson, and every year, tens of thousands flock to the City of Secrets to "begin their futures". Most prestigious of all is the post-graduate program, the Doctorate of Applied Metaphysics & Philosophy, which is by invitation only. While many openly desire to enter the program, few could even begin to explain what the exact criteria of admittance are, let alone what is actually taught within.     The program itself traces its lineage back to the university founders, who ran a small college out of the original university building, The Old Stone Hall. It began as an almost chapel-like structure of rustic cobble, but over its life grew into a bizarre and sprawling web of eclectic neo-gothic stonework, contemporary wood and cement, and other, harder to describe styles not seen before by any of its students.     This was the heart of Port Astor Academia, until t...

 This is part three, and the finale, of this year's mini series! You can read part two here .                Anton dropped his bag down the shaft. After jimmying the outside doors, evading city employees and security, and going in a general downward direction, he had found it; the Plague Tunnels of Port Astor. He then dropped down himself, kicking up dust that hasn’t seen the light of day in nearly a century. Anton turned on his headlamp, which only stubbornly obliged. It revealed where he was; in the alley way between two buildings. As he stepped out into the forgotten street, he could make out one of the ancient signs; “ARTHUR’S IMPORTS & RARE BOOKS”. He cleared some of the dust from the window, which hung in the heavy air.                 He shined a light into the store, and as he did, an immense clamor was heard from within. Anton jumped back, and would have...

  This is part 2 of this year's 3 part mini series! You can read part 1 here if you missed it. October 10 th , 1929 It’s with great resignation that I begin this diary, in the hopes that I can one day look back upon it in happier times. I have lost my employment as an accountant, as the clients I oversaw have themselves gone out of business. With fewer and fewer accounts, the firm of Fuchs & Royce chose to let me go, as I am was a junior member. Tomorrow, with great vigor, I will begin hunting for new work.   November 29 th , 1929 I went to my cousin Edith’s this holiday, out in Fields across the Channel. I thought that perhaps some time out in the country with family would do me some good, and perhaps it did. I had a wonderful series of conversations with her, about family history no less! It was curious as the topic had never garnered such interest from me before, but with so little else in my life at this moment, I suppose that it just struck the right nerve at...

                      In 1930, a mysterious disease overtook the western city of Port Astor, in the state of Jefferson. During its run, it killed one in five; nearly one-hundred thousand. Where it came from and how it started are hotly debated topics by local historians, but the official story is that it came via ship from the Far East. During that time, however, there were no similar outbreaks in the ports of East Asia. The situation garnered national attention when federal forces, sent to the city to enforce a quarantine, opened fire, and shelled the John Astor Bridge, killing dozens and maiming hundreds, when they tried to flee the city.                 The most affected area was the neighborhood of John’s Landing. One of the oldest parts of the city, it featured tight, narrow and twisting streets. After the plague, much of the neighborhood was...

  Hello everyone! Welcome to spooky season! We made it back here again, after a surprisingly mild Summer here in the Pacific Northwest. I know that a good chunk of the country cannot say the same, but I hope that it has mostly passed by now. I wanted to do something a little different this year, since I was still fairly new at this last Autumn, still getting my legs wet with running a blog, and so I didn’t have much material for this season; pretty silly for someone who calls themselves a horror writer. That’s why I’m happy to announce that for this Spooktober that I’ll be starting what I hope to be a regular tradition of The Plague of ’30; in 1930, Port Astor was ravaged by a mysterious disease that force the entire city into quarantine. No one knows where it came from, at least officially. In that year, and the follow years to some extent, Port Astor was a scene of unspeakable dread and terror as people struggled to survive, mortal and supernatural alike. Each year will foc...