March 30, 2026 · 4:37 am

Giving on Purpose How 30 Days of Conscious Giving can Chang Your Life with Pamela Thibodeaux

Please help me welcome today’s guest, friend and fellow author Pamela Thibodeaux…

Giving on Purpose How 30 Days of Conscious Giving can Chang Your Life.

Here’s the Blurb: What if the key to abundance isn’t giving more—but giving in balance?

We’ve been taught that it’s more blessed to give than to receive. But what if receiving is just as sacred as giving? And what if the two were never meant to exist apart?

The Giving on Purpose journal invites you to explore the powerful, often misunderstood connection between giving and receiving. If you’ve ever felt like you give endlessly—your time, love, energy, or resources—yet struggle to receive in return, this journal was created for you.

Through guided reflection and intentional prompts, Giving on Purpose gently opens your heart and mind to conscious giving—helping you recognize where imbalance may be blocking blessings and how aligning giving with receiving can transform your spiritual and emotional well-being.

✨ Inside, you’ll discover how to:

•           Release guilt around receiving

•           Recognize your worthiness to receive from God

•           Cultivate deeper gratitude in everyday life

•           Restore balance between generosity and abundance

By the final page, readers experience a renewed sense of self-worth, a deeper belief in their God-given worthiness to receive, and a lasting attitude of gratitude.

Give freely. Receive boldly. Live abundantly.

Giving on Purpose: How 30 Days of Conscious Giving can Change Your Life is your invitation to do all three—without guilt, fear, or limitation.

Why I Wrote Giving on Purpose How 30 Days of Conscious Giving can Chang Your Life: Many people give automatically, it’s just part of our nature. But then, at some point, some folks get frustrated or resentful because you feel like you’re giving and giving and getting nothing in return. But the truth is we are always receiving! Scripture and the Universal Law of Divine Compensation tell us that when we give, it shall be given unto us good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over! I really believe this project will revolutionize the way we think about giving and receiving / sowing and reaping.

Giving on Purpose is available now in Paperback, Hardcover and for Kindle (FREE in KU!)

BIO: Pamela S. Thibodeaux grew up in the town of Iowa, Louisiana. She is a mother, grandmother, award-winning author, life coach and spiritual mentor. Her tagline, “Inspirational with an Edge!” ™ defines her life, writing, and coaching style. 

Find and Follow Pam via her Website and Social Media links found via Linktree: https://linktr.ee/pamelasthibodeauxauthor

EXCERPT:

There is Always Something to Give

Before I received the revelation that inspired this journal, I, like many, feared giving. Especially money. For much of my life, my intentions to obey and/or give were overruled by all the reasons why I couldn’t. Not always, but when there was more month at the end of my money or when I felt prompted to give but questioned whether that was truly God or guilt or just me. But as I’ve grown and matured and come to realize the truth of how powerful giving is, I do my best to act immediately when the urge hits.

Another misconception we have around giving is that money is the only commodity that truly counts. Not so!

Do you own a garden and give fruit and vegetables to your family, friends, and neighbors? Are you a hunter who shares the meat you harvest with food banks or needy families?

When he was alive, my husband loved satsumas, so we planted two trees in our yard. Every year he’d gather bags and bags of these sweet citrus fruits and give them away.

Once he went to get a haircut and a lady was talking about her husband’s diabetes and how much he loved satsumas but how expensive a small bag was. My husband went home and brought back two plastic bags full for her! He didn’t know this woman or her husband. He just enjoyed giving whatever and whenever he could.

He also loved to make jelly…you guessed it, to give away. No matter the cost, time or energy that went into making pint jars of gooey goodness, he was always willing to share the joy he experienced in doing this.

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March 26, 2026 · 5:12 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Please Look at Me by Jon Minton ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Please Look at Me by Jon Minton

Fun Fact:

The characters in Please Look At Me discuss creating a church to establish Autophagia as a religious practice to protect themselves from people who are trying to ban it. This was inspired by the Church of Body Modification, which was founded in 1999 by Steve Haworth, an influential body modification artist. It grew quickly because of support from several other influential voices in the body modification community, such as Shannon Larratt, Philip Barbosa, Beki Buelow, and Shawn Porter, and currently lists members from 24 different countries. 

The CoBM was created, in part, to protect members from dress codes that banned visible piercings and tattoos, and to establish body modification and body manipulation as forms of spiritual expression and self-empowerment protected under religious freedom laws. It also works to protect and raise awareness about more controversial modifications, practices, and rituals, such as scarification, branding, suspension, corsetry, and fire-walking. While the church has been successful in spreading awareness of the spiritual side of modification, it hasn’t been able to create the overarching legal changes they’d hoped to enact. 

This Body Is Mine: An Act of Reclamation

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Steve_Haworth

https://wiki.bme.com/index.php/Steve_Haworth

Are We a “Real” Church? On Faith, Law, and the Body

https://www.facebook.com/stevehaworthmod

Click to access openingup.pdf


About Please Look at Me:

Brittany Varon is an Autophagian, part of a controversial movement blending biology and spirituality to achieve radical self-renewal. When a documentary exposes the movement’s founder as a fraud, public backlash fractures the faithful—and devotion curdles into extremism under the influence of the zealous Tatyana Brigam. As belief hardens into persecution and violence, Brittany must confront what her faith is becoming—and whether it can still be saved.

Excerpt:

Time always slowed when the cutting began.

Brittany Varon concentrated on maintaining her breathing, counting her inhales and exhales to keep them steady.

“You’re doing great, honey.” Ian cut through the fat and into muscle, sending white-hot pain through her nerves.

A faintly sweet aroma underscored the metallic scent of blood. Brittany didn’t scream or cry as she had the first time when Ian took just ten grams, only going an eighth of an inch deep, not even getting all the way through skin and fat. Today he would take three ounces and cut a half-inch into her thigh. Those first few sessions had been long and messy, but his practiced hands made quick work of it now.

She sat up and looked at what he’d taken from her, allowing a few tears to trickle down her cheek as she smiled for the cameras. He moved briskly, placing her flesh into the waiting cooler before tending to her leg. The ointment and bandages he applied did little to stop the familiar burning sensation. They had fried up that first session’s bounty like a pork rind, barely a nibble for each of them, but now they had full meals to share with each other…and their audience, of course. Sure, it wasn’t something you’d order from a restaurant, but they would season the tiny flank steak and then flash-sear it.

“We have to edit this.” Ian’s touch soothed as he ran his fingers through her hair.

“I need to meditate first.” She shivered, cool air covering her skin in goosebumps. “And I need a blanket.”

The knitted blanket Ian draped over her calmed her almost as much as his touch. She lay back and closed her eyes. Her heartbeat slowed, and the adrenaline that had flooded her brain dissipated into the mellow afterglow of endorphins. The pain in her leg was there, but distant.

Brittany tossed off the blanket and allowed Ian to help her to her feet, a little shaky, but not bad. Together they walked to their office. He sat at his desk, the editing software already up on his laptop. She sat down next to him in ‌matching office chairs and watched four simultaneous angles of the Leveling Session.

About the Author:

Jon Minton is an American speculative fiction writer based in Oklahoma City. He is a software developer but has always been passionate about a great story. He is the president of the Central Region Oklahoma Writers. Find more of his books at jonmintonbooks.com

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March 25, 2026 · 5:15 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ A Hundred Black Sunrises by Tamela Miles ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: A Hundred Black Sunrises by Tamela Miles

At the edge of Altadena, the so-called “Enchanted Forest” near the Cobb Estate feels magical…but only sometimes. At other times, it’s more like something is quietly watching and waiting in the shadows of the trees.

I grew up in Altadena, down the hill about seven minutes, and this quiet place never quite lost its eerie for me. There’s a special kind of uncomfortable there during the Santa Ana winds season.  Hikers often speak of hearing distant screams or of footsteps right beside them as they tread.  Others insist they’ve caught glimpses of eerie lights or felt a lingering presence trailing behind them, only to turn and find no one there – no one visible, anyway.

My story, A Hundred Black Sunrises, features the “Enchanted Forest” in my beloved Altadena, with Finn and Sienna choosing to spend an afternoon there for a picnic. Hm. It’s obvious they’re not Altadena natives, as that’s probably the last place to choose for a delightful day of fun. And that would be during the daylight hours. We don’t speak about the disturbing possibilities after dusk…

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March 24, 2026 · 5:11 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Lammech Ra’ah by Steven E. Wedel ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Lammech Ra’ah by Steven E. Wedel

Fun Fact:

I’ve always been interested in psychic vampires. Unlike the bloodsucking kind, I think we all know someone who seems to drain our energy, and someone who seems to come alive in a crowd. There’s a certain individual who comes to a dog park I frequent and is one of the biggest narcissists I’ve ever met. One day, while listening to him explain how he knows everything about everything and is better than anyone at whatever he’s doing, my mind drifted to imagining being stuck on an airplane with him. Being who I am, it was a short step to the idea of how a psychic vampire would absolutely feast on this person. That’s how the story was born.

Find it here: https://books2read.com/u/4AqkpK

About Lammech Ra’ah:

At 30,000 feet above earth, something is feeding on the passengers of Flight 447 to New York. Meanwhile, an unlikely hunter stalks the entity responsible for destroying his family and a flight attendant prays they’ll land before everyone is dead.

Excerpt:

Adam Greenspan clutched the iron medallion so tightly that its rough edges cut into his palm, drawing blood. The metallic smell mingled with the recycled air of the airplane cabin, but it was the only thing keeping him anchored to consciousness as waves of supernatural drowsiness crashed over him like a tide.

The pressure in his mind had been building for the past hour, growing stronger as more passengers around him succumbed to whatever force was draining their lives away. It felt like invisible fingers made of ice water, probing at the edges of his thoughts, searching for cracks in his mental defenses. Each time the presence touched his mind, the iron medallion grew warm against his chest, pushing back the cold invasion.

All those years of preparation had led to this moment. Seven years of following the pattern of unexplained deaths that trailed in Lady Nyctofile’s wake, learning to recognize the signs of her feeding. The Seattle incident had been the opportunity he had been waiting for—her desperation made her careless, forcing her to hunt in situations where she could be trapped.

“Baruch Hashem,” he whispered in Hebrew, his voice barely audible above the airplane’s engine noise. “Blessed is the Name.”

The words seemed to strengthen the medallion’s protection, creating a small bubble of clarity in his mind. Through that clarity, he could see what the other passengers could not—the true nature of what was happening on this flight.

Adam’s mind drifted back to that terrible day in Jerusalem, seven years ago, when he had first learned about creatures like the one sitting just a few rows ahead of him. The old woman in the market had been ancient, her face mapped with wrinkles that spoke of decades spent studying forbidden knowledge. Her grandson was eager to sell him the silver medallion, but it was the grandmother who had truly understood what Adam needed.

“You hunt the lammech ra’ah,” she had said, the words spoken in the old dialect of Hebrew that his own grandmother had sometimes used. “The one who feeds on life itself.”

Adam had nodded, unable to speak past the grief that still choked him whenever he thought of Rivka and his daughters.

“Silver is prettier,” the old woman had continued, reaching into a wooden box beneath her table. “Gold is more valuable. But iron…” She had pulled out the crude medallion that now hung around his neck. “Iron remembers what it was before men shaped it. Iron knows how to resist things that should not exist.”

The medallion had been expensive for him—nearly a week’s salary at the grocery store where he worked. But as the old woman placed it in his hands, he had felt something shift in the air around him, as if the world itself had become slightly more solid, more real.

“It will not make you strong enough to kill her,” the woman had warned. “But it will keep her from taking you as easily as she took your family. When the time comes, you must be ready to act quickly. The lammech ra’ah are old, and they are cunning, but they are not invincible.”

About the Author:

Steven E. Wedel has been writing fiction for over 40 years and is the author of nearly 100 books under various names. After 19 years as an English teacher, he is about to open his own bookstore.

www.stevenewedel.com

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March 23, 2026 · 5:16 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Frostbite by Raven Lee ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Frostbite by Raven Lee

Fun Fact:

One of the deadliest microclimates in the world is the Gstettneralm doline in the Austrian Alps where temperatures can get as cold as -62.7 degrees at 4,165 feet. By comparison the nearest mountain peak, Sonnblick, gets as cold as -37.4 degrees at 10,170 feet.

About Frostbite:

As temperatures plummet and escape routes vanish, the group must fight against an unbelievable force determined to trap them in eternal winter, their bodies preserved beneath layers of ice. For some … the thaw never comes.

Excerpt:

Lauren moved to finish helping get the suit off when Chelsea’s hand shot up and grabbed her by the collar, pulling her close. Her fingers were ice cold along Lauren’s neck. “The fog.”

“Yes, we know,” said Lauren, gently, “You were caught in it, but you’re safe now.”

Chelsea shook her head frantically. “They’re in the fog.”

She released Lauren’s collar, causing Lauren to instantly back away, but Chelsea’s blue-gray hand remained risen. Her blackened fingers trembled, but it wasn’t the discolored hand that made Lauren’s breath catch.

There were marks.

Two distinct arcs of bruised, broken skin on the side of Chelsea’s hand. Marks Lauren had seen before while helping a woman divorce her violent husband. Those marks were seared into Lauren’s mind … bite marks.

About the Author:

An avid traveler, Raven Lee, has never met a spooky tale she didn’t love. When not traveling, she channels her paranormal obsession into writing her own stories, hoping to make you sleep with the light on. Raven haunts northeast Oklahoma with her husband, children, and furry family. 

https://linktr.ee/AuthorRavenLee

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March 22, 2026 · 5:32 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Mr. Stitches by Alicia Dean ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Mr. Stitches by Alicia Dean

Fun Fact:

Have you ever had an imaginary friend? In the dedication of this story, I mention an imaginary friend I had when I was a child. I was about three, I think, and I was in the car and my mom was backing out of the driveway. I screamed out, “Stop! You ran over my friend.” My mom was horrified and slammed on the brakes. She asked what friend and I said, “Janie Watson. I buried her in the driveway.” Which is ridiculous, because how did a three-year-old dig through concrete?

About Mr. Stitches:

A desperate act should have freed Lauren from her past—but instead, it awakens something far worse. As her son’s stuffed animal whispers and bodies begin to fall, Lauren learns the terrifying truth: Mr. Stitches wants more than love… he wants a family of his own.

Excerpt:

“You sleeping?” Wyatt asked quietly in the kitchen.

She shrugged. “Some.” She leaned against the counter. The words came out before she could stop them. “He was on my dresser last night.”

Wyatt’s head snapped toward her. “Who was?”

“The toy.”

Silence stretched between them. “Yeah, so? Easton must’ve—”

“My door was locked.”

Wyatt’s brow furrowed. “Kids unlock things.”

“He doesn’t have a key.”

Wyatt didn’t respond immediately. Instead he looked toward the living room. “There has to be a reasonable explanation.”

“I don’t know. There’s something off about him.”

“About who, Easton?”

She shook her head impatiently. “The elephant. Mr. Stitches.”

Something shifted in his expression. “That’s his name, Mr. Stitches? Where did the toy come from?”

Lauren huffed. “Ryder gave it to him. When he went to see him at school.”

Wyatt gasped.

“What?” she asked.

Wyatt didn’t answer. He fixed his gaze on the living room toward the elephant. He slowly walked over to Easton. “Who named your elephant?”

Easton frowned. “Nobody. He told me his name.”

Wyatt went completely still. His face drained of color.

“Wyatt?” Lauren asked. “What’s wrong?”

“We called him that.”

“Who?”

“Ryder. That’s what we used to call Ryder. He was always getting hurt. Sports injuries. Fights. Dumb stuff. Always having to be stitched up. So we called him Stitches.”

The room seemed to shrink.

“What?”

Easton smiled faintly. “He knew you’d remember.”

Wyatt stepped back. “When your dad gave this to you, did he tell you the elephant’s name?”

Easton shook his head.

Lauren’s voice came out shaky. “The toy was named Mr. Peanuts. But…but Easton said the elephant told him to call him Mr. Stitches.”

Wyatt frowned. “That’s weird as fuck.”

“Language,” she said automatically.

Easton scowled. “Mr. Stitches says you better be careful.”

Lauren’s skin prickled. The elephant’s crooked button eye seemed almost… centered now. Watching.

About the Author:

Alicia Dean lives in Edmond, Oklahoma where she enjoys writing dark and creepy stories. Her other passions are Elvis Presley, true crime, MLB, NFL and watching too much TV.

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March 21, 2026 · 4:56 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Cauldron of Contempt by Robert Herold ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Cauldron of Contempt by Robert Herold

Fun Fact:

The reliquary vandalized in this story actually exists at Saint James Cathedral in Seattle and contains a bone fragment of the apostle. The object is kept in a safe and is displayed on special occasions. In Cauldron of Contempt, a witch breaks open the statue and steals the relic. She uses the relic as a lure to get the protagonists to travel to Iraq, where she intends to kill them. (No actual relics were harmed in the making of this story!) Here is a picture of the real reliquary:

About Cauldron of Contempt:

The witch, Maara Chandler, is horribly injured in a fire and plots revenge against the Metcalf family, beginning with the theft of a sacred object. Can the Metcalfs survive her brutal machinations? Award-winning series! “The must-read supernatural series of the year!” – N. N. Light’s Book Heaven

Excerpt:

Maara surveyed her burned left arm, then the other, then looked down at her torso and legs. Her clothes, except for a few burnt fragments somehow clinging to her body, no longer covered her. Her formerly pale skin now looked charred, interspersed with red, pink, yellow, and brown. Some of the flesh on her left arm appeared to have melted, hanging from her forearm like the waddle below a turkey’s beak. Small drips of flesh hung from her fingers.

Maara saw her grimoire, her book of spells, where she set it against the base of the wall in the hallway. She wanted it out of the way when she confronted the Metcalfs. Bound to her and the source of much of her power, the book was the key to her recovery from her burns.

She lurched over and grasped it with her right hand, which still worked. But as soon as she touched it, the book unaccountably burst into flames.

About the Author:

Seattleite Robert Herold is a horror writer and author of the award-winning Eidola Project novels and the Seattle Coven Tales. In addition, Mr. Herold’s work has appeared in anthologies and on the Saturday Evening Post’s website. His adaptation of Witch Ever Way You Go, recently won Best Television Pilot Script in the Dublin Movie Awards. linktr.ee/robertheroldauthor

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March 20, 2026 · 4:48 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Last Stop by Tamrie Foxtail ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Last Stop by Tamrie Foxtail

Fun Fact:

I work as a monitor on a Special Education bus. Our kids are wonderful. From a little one who loves to have me clap a rhythm so he can copy it, to one who tells about everything that’s in the sky. These kids make us laugh. I love working the Sped Bus. But what if we had a child who didn’t make us laugh? What if there was one child who was frightening rather than sweet?

About Last Stop:

It’s the day before Spring Break, but today the bus won’t be making its final stop.

Gina has been picking up the kids on the special education route for years. Some steal her heart and some make her laugh, but one student makes her blood run cold.

Marcus Kenton is a Marine turned principal. He’s been warned about one student.

Silas has been listening to the voice of his master, and his master has a plan.

Excerpt:

“Maybe now the school board will approve metal entry doors.” Kenton waved his card over the sensor. “I’m betting on Silas wanting to brag and gloat before shooting me,” he said. He reached for the door.

Avery blocked him. “I hope you’re right,” he said, “because I’m going first.”

They stepped into the high school lobby, Avery taking a few steps to the left and Kenton stepping to the right, making it harder for Silas to keep both of them in his sights.

The teenager stepped out from behind the door to the janitor’s closet. His right arm was wrapped around Kayla’s throat, keeping her in front of him as a shield. There was a gun in his right hand.

The smile on the Torrence kid’s face was like nothing Kenton had ever seen. Evil. That was the only word for it. He could imagine Satan himself with just that smile.

Silas held up his left hand, the dead man’s switch clearly visible.

“Dead man’s switch,” he said in calm voice with a touch of glee. “Shoot me and the bomb goes off. You’re both dead and so is blind girl.”

He shoved the girl away from him, pointing the gun at Kenton in the same motion.

She crawled away and Kenton wondered if it was because she couldn’t get to her feet, or because she was trying to stay low. A thin streak of blood trailed behind her.

“I’ve been waiting to kill you since the first day of school,” Silas said.

“Why?” Kenton asked. From the corner of his eye he saw Avery take another step to his left.

“Always standing here in the morning, acting like you’re a human.”

“I am a human,” Kenton said.

“You’re not. You’re an alien. Everyone in authority is an alien.”

Avery took another step.

“Silas, I spent twenty years in the Marines. They would have found out if I wasn’t human.”

Silas shook his head. “You cloned a human body, and your alien race put you inside. The whole military is made up of aliens.” He pointed the gun at Kenton’s face. “When I shoot you, will I see the alien body?”

About the Author:

Tamrie Foxtail was raised in the sunshine state. She married an Okie who brought her to the Sooner State. As soon as she recovered from a rather serious case of culture shock, she fell in love with Oklahoma and its people.

Tamrie spent years working as a librarian (surrounded by books and book lovers). She now works with children in Special Education.

She is currently working on a cozy mystery series set in Oklahoma.

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March 19, 2026 · 5:12 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Godwin’s Folly by Krysta Scott ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Godwin’s Folly by Krysta

Scott

Fun Fact:

My family descends from the McEwen clan in Scotland. McEwen was, until recently, a broken clan because it lacked a Chief. The castle McEwen deteriorated into ruins. According to the family lore, anyone from the McEwen blood line was forbidden to cross the threshold of the ruins. If they did, they would die. This curse is the inspiration for Godwin’s Folly. Imagine my disappointment when I was unable to find any reference to any McEwen curse during my research of the book.

About Godwin’s Folly:

At twelve, Abigail Lyons dared her sister Ellie to enter the cursed ruins of Godwin’s Folly—Ellie vanished and was never seen again. Eighteen years later, Abigail inherits the family castle in Glenfallow, Scotland, forcing her to return to the place that shattered her childhood.

With the help of her medium best friend, she uncovers journals, legends, and dark secrets surrounding the folly. But someone in Glenfallow knows what really happened—and will do anything to keep the truth buried.

Excerpt:

“Oh, it’s more than that, love.” He shrugged. “When the moon is full, you can hear wailing coming from behind that wall. It sounds like a girl is crying or lost.”

“Okay,” Rachel waved off his spooky story. “Sounds like every ghost story I’ve heard. A place is haunted. Someone is wailing. Nothing new here.”

I knew Rachel was baiting him into saying more. It’s what she did to get to the root of a legend. Most of the time it ended up being a disappointing rumor that had grown with too many renditions.

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss it.” Gavin grabbed a towel and wiped the counter. “I’ve heard the wailing myself. A more mournful sound you won’t hear anywhere else.”

“Did you spend the night there?” I don’t know what possessed me to ask the question.

Gavin shook his head. “No. I could never get over the wall. Every time I got close, it was like some forcefield kept me back.”

“You’re making that up.” He had Rachel’s interest now.

“Did any of your friends make it across?” I cocked my head, curiosity getting the better of me.

“No. As I said something kept us from success.”

Rachel rubbed the back of her neck. “Any other stories about the castle?”

“I don’t know if this is true but there is talk that there used to be sacrifices on that land.”

“You can’t be serious.” I reeled back.

“It’s just some talk. Most of us have heard the wailing. But there are few people who are still alive who attended the parties. Master Lyons was just a boy when his parents entertained.”

I crossed my arms. Gavin’s prattle seemed more like a wives’ tale than anything that could carry some truth. Then my heart stopped at his next words.

“The family stopped entertaining once Godwin built his Folly. Rumor is that the tower was built to mark where the bodies are.”

A chill went up my spine. Don’t go in. Uncle Godwin had been very clear on that point. “That doesn’t make sense. Ellie…”

Gavin regarded me with what I could only see was pity. “The whole town felt bad about that missing girl. Bad business that. The lads and I have a theory that she is the one who wails.”

I frowned still trying to process the information.

“If I were you,” Gavin continued. “I’d get far away from that place as soon as possible. A ghost will get you. Just like they did her.”

About the Author:

Krysta Scott is the author of the novel, Shadow Dancer. Since publishing her first book through the Wild Rose Press, she has published two novellas in the Martini Club 4 series and eight novellas in the Friday the Thirteenth series. Godwin’s Folly is the latest story in the series. When she is not writing, she can often be found watching Hallmark movies, true crime shows or reading a good thriller. She is a retired attorney who lives in Oklahoma with her husband and dog.

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March 18, 2026 · 4:58 am

Welcome to Our World of Friday the 13th Horror Short Stories ~ Dead Ringer by Alicia Dean ~ #fri13thHorrorShortstories 

One of the 13 stories in A Friday the 13th Story #9: Dead Ringer by Alicia Dean

Fun Fact:

The idea for this story came from a Mr. Ballen episode I watched. The story is quite different from what happened, but the idea grew from there. It is about a 911 dispatch center that continued to receive calls from a woman after she died, although this woman was not murdered.

Side note: I joined a 911 dispatcher group to find out some info about how the job works and the people there were incredibly helpful. I know I wasn’t completely accurate because I didn’t connect with these people in time to find out and implement the information. I was on a deadline crunch, but I used some of what they shared with me.

About Dead Ringer:

A 911 dispatcher is on a call with a woman who is murdered during the call. Now, the woman’s ghost continues to call the dispatcher, demanding justice against her killer.

Excerpt:

Downstairs, Marina moved through her nightly routine. Checked the back door. Checked the stove. Set the alarm. Ordinary steps. Reassuring repetition.

When she passed the hallway mirror, she glanced at herself automatically and startled. For a fraction of a second, she thought someone stood behind her. Not clearly. Just a pale blur over her shoulder.

She spun around. The hallway was empty. Her pulse ticked upward. Exhaustion, she told herself. Adrenaline crash. She turned back to the mirror. Only her reflection stared back.

In the kitchen, her phone buzzed on the counter, and she picked it up.

Unknown number. Her stomach tightened. It was past one in the morning. She let it ring. It stopped. A moment later, the new voicemail alert pinged. Marina stared at the notification. Her rational brain told her it was probably spam. A misdial. A delayed callback. She pressed play.

Static filled her ear. Crackling on the line. Then, ragged breathing. Exactly like before. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. She replayed it. Static. Nothing else. She listened again. Still only static. Her hand trembled as she set the phone down.

About the Author:

Alicia Dean lives in Edmond, Oklahoma where she enjoys writing dark and creepy stories. Her other passions are Elvis Presley, true crime, MLB, NFL and watching too much TV.

https://linktr.ee/AliciaDeanAuthor1835

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