The Nightlight Watcher
Of Gnomes and Nocturnal Duties Once upon a time—or at least some time after the invention of indoor plumbing—there lived a gnome named Wimbley Plopfoot. He w...
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Fifteen illustrated stories appear on each archive page, newest first.
The story archive
669 published tales
Of Gnomes and Nocturnal Duties Once upon a time—or at least some time after the invention of indoor plumbing—there lived a gnome named Wimbley Plopfoot. He w...
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In the heart of the Verdant Woodlands—just past the babbling creek that sounds suspiciously like it's gossiping—stood a moss-covered stump known only to a f...
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The Cold Shoulder of Destiny Far beyond the howling peaks of the Cringecrack Mountains, where the wind screamed like unpaid interns and snowflakes fell like...
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Trouble in the Tidal Flats It was a quiet morning in the shallows of the Glimmering Gulf, where the sand sparkled like spilled champagne and hermit crabs gos...
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Glazed & Unphased It was barely 8:07 a.m. and already the pastry box was feeling... sticky. The bakery was quiet. Too quiet. A single ray of warm sunlig...
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Melt With Me It was a late night in the diner. Neon lights buzzed like old secrets and the grill was still warm—hot enough to bring the meat sweats, cool en...
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The Grinding Hour The steak lay there—thick, glistening, and just a touch too smug. Marbled in all the right places, it had spent the better part of the day...
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The Dry Days The pump had seen better days. Once proud and upright on the bathroom counter, he now sat half-slouched next to a flickering “Sensual Aloe” cand...
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The kitchen was quiet. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that made spoons nervous and measuring cups develop existential dread. Then suddenly—click—the cabinet do...
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Stab Me, Daddy At first glance, it looked like an ordinary drawer. Just your typical mix of dull butter knives, clingy teaspoons, and that one suspiciously s...
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The Whirl Before the Storm It all started on a Monday, which—statistically speaking—is the worst day to be murdered by your kitchen appliances. Not that Mart...
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The steam had barely risen when the trouble started. Barry, a mild-mannered bar of soap with sensitive skin and a lifelong fear of mildew, had just clocked ...
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The Call of Doody Deep within the humid, echo-prone chamber known as “The Throne Room,” a young toilet paper roll named Rolland T. P. Wipe stood tall—metaph...
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Toast with the Most It was 7:03 AM in the Kingdom of Kitchenville, and Breakfast had just rolled out of bed — sticky, steamy, and undeniably over-easy. The t...
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The Prickle and the Peril There are few things in life as universally despised as the ankle nick. That one millimeter of skin you forget about until it’s ble...
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