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Dark Stories Of Yore: The Dark Mind Of Thomas Miller
By Thomas Miller
About the Author:
Thomas Miller is an author from Florida known for his emotionally powerful stories that delve into themes of suffering, pain, and redemption. His evocative prose captures the depth of human despair and the enduring hope that lies beyond.
Why The Forsaken The
By Thomas Miller
It was the best of times, and mostly the worst of times, standing with a hangman's noose in hand, waiting to jump. "Quoth, quoth," I screamed in pain as I saw my life flash before my eyes. My dead Morgana, why have you left me on this hell-sacked earth? You have taken me into an abyss of hell as I take life to see the love and bonds you had for me. But you died, and I lived. Why did you leave as I take my life for thee, so we can be together in widow's past scorched earth?
The rope felt rough and unforgiving in my grasp, its coarse fibers biting into my palm. The gallows loomed above, a stark silhouette against the storm-laden sky. Each creak of the wooden planks beneath my feet echoed the torment in my heart. Morgana, my light, my love, you were the beacon in my darkest nights. Without you, I am but a shadow, a wraith wandering through this barren wasteland.
My mind raced, fragments of memories flooding my senses. The laughter we shared, the whispered secrets in the dead of night, the warmth of your embrace—all gone, like ashes in the wind. I cursed the heavens, cursed the fates that tore you from my side.
"Why, Morgana, why?" I cried out, my voice breaking, raw with grief. "Why did you forsake me?"
In the depths of my despair, I saw her face, serene and haunting, as if she stood before me. Her eyes, once vibrant with life, now reflected the sorrow of our separation. She reached out, her touch ghostly, and I felt a shiver run through my spine.
"Morgana," I whispered, "I cannot bear this agony. I cannot endure this life without you."
The noose tightened around my neck, a final embrace, cold and relentless. I took a deep breath, the last taste of this wretched world, and stepped off the edge. As the ground fell away, a strange calm enveloped me. The pain, the sorrow, the emptiness—all faded into the void.
In that fleeting moment between life and death, I saw her again, her arms open, welcoming me into the beyond. The darkness lifted, and there was only light, only love.
Together, we would roam the widow's past scorched earth, our spirits entwined, free from the shackles of this mortal coil. In death, we found our solace, our reunion, our eternal peace.
Thus ends the tale of a man forsaken by fate, who chose to follow his love into the abyss. For in the end, it was not the noose that claimed him, but the promise of love beyond the veil.
Death Or Life
By Thomas Miller
In the remote, mist-shrouded town of Berming Farms, nestled in the English countryside, there was a man known as Niles Casterson. He was a man of sorrow, a bearer of the town’s collective grief. For years, Niles served as the town’s only doctor, witnessing the relentless march of death as it claimed the lives of his friends, neighbors, and loved ones. The scourge of yellow fever had taken a particular toll, leaving behind a trail of heartache and despair.
Niles had dedicated his life to the people of Berming Farms. He fought tirelessly against the grim reaper, administering remedies, providing comfort, and offering hope where there seemed to be none. But despite his best efforts, the fever was merciless. He watched in anguish as one by one, the townsfolk succumbed to the illness. Some, miraculously, recovered, but others died the most horrific deaths. Niles could never understand why some were spared and others were not. It was a mystery that haunted him, a cruel enigma that gnawed at his soul.
One fateful day, the unthinkable happened. Niles himself fell ill. The fever, which he had battled so valiantly on behalf of others, now claimed him as its next victim. The town rallied to save their beloved doctor, the man who had saved so many of them. They tried every remedy, every prayer, but it was all in vain. Niles Casterson, the pillar of Berming Farms, was lost.
With his passing, the town’s fragile semblance of security crumbled. Strange things began to happen. Ghastly ghouls were seen wandering the streets, spectral figures whose presence sent chills down the spines of those who encountered them. An eerie sickness, different from the yellow fever but just as deadly, started to spread. It was as if the very soul of Berming Farms was being consumed by a malevolent force.
The townspeople soon realized a horrifying truth: Niles had been more than just their doctor. He had been their protector, the force that kept the darkness at bay. Without him, the veil between life and death had thinned, and now the dead walked among the living. Desperation turned to terror as the town descended into chaos.
As the days turned to weeks, Berming Farms became a ghost town in the most literal sense. The few remaining residents either fled or perished. The once-thriving community was wiped off the map, leaving behind nothing but whispers of its existence and the unsettling legend of its demise.
In the end, Niles Casterson’s story was one of tragic irony. He had spent his life saving others, only to become the catalyst for their doom. The question that lingered, the question that would haunt the minds of those who heard his tale, was this: What if death, with all its mystery and finality, was better than the suffering of life? For Niles, a man of sorrow, the line between life and death had blurred, revealing a grim truth—sometimes, the end is only the beginning of the nightmare.
Thus ends the tale of Niles Casterson, the man of sorrow from the ill-fated town of Berming Farms. His life was great in its purpose, but his death unveiled a darkness that forever changed the fate of those he once cared for.
The Sea Is or The Sea Not: Dead Bride to Be
By Thoms Miller
In the windswept coastal town of Greyhaven, where the mournful cries of seabirds mingled with the roar of the surf, lived a man named Ichabod. He was a grave digger by trade, toiling away in the shadow of the sea that had always been both a companion and a tormentor. His small cottage perched precariously on the edge of the cliffs, offering a perpetual view of the vast, restless ocean.
Ichabod's life was a solitary one, defined by the grim tasks of his occupation. He spent his days digging graves and his nights staring out at the sea, searching for a love that had once been promised. That love was Amber, a woman of ethereal beauty and golden hair, who had captured his heart with a single glance. They had met in England, and Amber had vowed to join him in Greyhaven, where they would start a new life together.
The day Amber was to arrive had been the brightest in Ichabod's memory. He had stood on the rocky shore, eyes scanning the horizon for the ship that carried his beloved. But when the vessel finally appeared, it brought with it a curse that would shatter his heart. No one dared to tell Ichabod that Amber had succumbed to scurvy during the voyage. The ship's crew, gaunt and hollow-eyed, avoided his gaze as they disembarked.
Ichabod’s heart raced as he saw the familiar golden locks of Amber's hair cascading over the edge of the ship's railing. "Amber!" he cried, rushing forward, his voice filled with joy and relief. But as he drew closer, the truth revealed itself in the pallor of her skin and the stillness of her form. His beloved Amber was no longer among the living.
The sight of her lifeless body, hair still as radiant as he remembered, drove Ichabod to his knees. "Oh, sweet Amber," he wailed, his voice breaking with grief. "Why did you die? Why not me? You did nothing wrong. Oh, sweet Amber!" His fingers trembled as he reached out to touch her hair, feeling the cold, stiff reality of her death.
In his anguish, Ichabod did the unthinkable. He began to cut the golden locks from Amber’s hair, each snip of the scissors a desperate attempt to hold on to some part of her. Her body, now in the grip of rigor mortis, lay unyielding and silent. As he worked, tears streamed down his face, and his cries echoed across the desolate shore.
With the strands of Amber’s hair clutched tightly in his hands, Ichabod set about digging her grave. He chose a spot at the edge of the cemetery, where her feet would point toward the sea. It was a place where, in his mind, they would one day float together to the heavenly gates, hand in hand, carried by the sea of love.
The burial was a somber affair, witnessed only by the gulls and the waves. Ichabod lowered Amber into the earth, his heart breaking with each shovelful of dirt that covered her. When the grave was filled, he placed the golden locks atop it, a final tribute to the woman who had been his world.
But the sea is a fickle mistress, and in Greyhaven, tales of restless spirits and haunted shores were common. In the days that followed Amber’s burial, strange things began to happen. Ichabod would often find himself drawn to her grave, feeling an inexplicable urge to visit her resting place at odd hours. One moonlit night, as he stood by her grave, he heard a faint, melodic whisper carried on the breeze. It was Amber’s voice, calling to him from the depths of the sea.
Desperate and half-mad with grief, Ichabod followed the voice to the edge of the cliffs. There, bathed in the ghostly light of the moon, he saw her. Amber stood on the shore, her golden hair flowing as if caught in an invisible current, her eyes fixed on him with a mixture of sorrow and longing.
"Amber?" Ichabod whispered, his voice trembling. He took a step forward, and she beckoned him with a delicate hand. "Come to me, Ichabod," she murmured, her voice a haunting melody. "Join me in the sea of love."
Torn between reality and the ethereal vision before him, Ichabod’s heart ached with a longing he could not deny. He stepped closer, feeling the cool spray of the ocean on his face. As he reached out to touch her, she dissolved into mist, her form blending with the waves.
Night after night, the vision of Amber haunted Ichabod, pulling him deeper into a realm where the lines between life and death blurred. He became a shadow of his former self, driven by a single, unrelenting desire to be reunited with his lost love. The townsfolk whispered of his madness, but Ichabod paid them no mind. His world had shrunk to the graveyard and the sea, where he wandered like a wraith, lost in his grief.
One stormy evening, as the wind howled and the waves crashed against the cliffs, Ichabod made his final journey to the shore. The sky was a roiling mass of dark clouds, and the sea seemed to churn with an unnatural fury. Standing at the edge, he heard Amber’s voice once more, clearer than ever before.
"Come to me, Ichabod," she called, her tone both loving and mournful. "Join me, and we will be together forever."
With a heart full of sorrow and a mind clouded by despair, Ichabod stepped off the cliff and into the embrace of the sea. The cold, briny water swallowed him, and for a moment, he felt a strange sense of peace. As he sank beneath the waves, he saw Amber’s face, her eyes filled with a tenderness that transcended the boundaries of life and death.
In the days that followed, Greyhaven mourned the loss of its grave digger, a man who had become as much a part of the town as the sea itself. The legend of Ichabod and Amber grew, a tragic tale of love and loss that was whispered among the townsfolk and passed down through generations.
Some say that on stormy nights, when the wind howls and the waves crash against the cliffs, you can still hear Ichabod’s cries mingling with the roar of the sea. And if you stand at the edge of the shore, you might catch a glimpse of two ghostly figures, hand in hand, walking together into the depths of the ocean. They are the dead brides to be, forever united in the sea of love.
And so, the sea claimed them both, binding their souls in an eternal embrace. The story of Ichabod and Amber became a haunting reminder of the power of love and the depths of sorrow, a tale that echoed through the ages in the windswept town of Greyhaven.
This is the tale of Ichabod, the grave digger by the sea, and his beloved Amber. Their love, forged in life and sealed in death, remains a poignant testament to the enduring power of the human heart. Though their bodies lie beneath the earth, their spirits walk the shores of Greyhaven, forever searching for the sea of love that binds them together.