When the worst winter in living memory buries a valley in silence, the snow doesn’t just fall – it stands up. Overnight, seven-foot faceless figures appear in every yard, with no footprints leading to them and every smooth white head tilted toward a house. As the storm cuts the town off from the world, people and animals begin to vanish, the snowmen grow heavier and more human, and the thaw reveals what the cold was really building inside those hollow bodies.

Christmas doesn’t always start with carols and cocoa- sometimes it starts with missing kids and blood in the snow. When a wave of disappearances hits town, every case has one thing in common: a grinning little elf on a shelf that won’t stay put. As bodies show up gutted like decorations and children begin to act like they’re taking orders from something on the mantle, the town learns the hard way that the elves aren’t watching for Santa… they’re making a list of their own.

The sheep don’t blink anymore, and the grass never stops breathing. A boy in a blue coat plays a flute carved from someone’s missing mouth, and the sound pulls children into the dark like threads through a needle. The village left, but the field didn’t. Now it waits — hungry, listening — for the next voice foolish enough to make a sound.

In the forgotten valley of Val-de-Sommeil, a noble girl falls into a sleep so polite it outlasts her heartbeat — and the world learns that mercy can rot. The house begins to breathe, the walls remember her name, and the living line up to be forgiven. But forgiveness has rules, and every rule has teeth.
Welcome to La Baiser du Sommeil— The Kiss of Sleep—where fairy tales don’t end with love’s first kiss… they begin with its last breath.

The sea hums in seven notes, and the locals know better than to sing back. Once, a mermaid traded her voice for legs and a wedding dress. Now, she builds cathedrals of bone beneath the waves and sets the table for whoever listens. Teeth wash ashore like offerings. Drains whisper lullabies. And every love story ends the same way—arranged, smiling, and waiting for the tide.

They said it was just a statue—stone and story, something thatwatched the graveyard and nothing more. But the children stopped coming home, the ground began to bleed, and the wall started to breathe. When the gravedigger’s daughter finally saw it move, she realized the truth too late.
Because not everything that cracks is broken. Some things are hungry.
Welcome to Phreak’s Bedtime Stories.

They say love can tame the monster.
But that’s the lie monsters tell when they want you close enough to taste.

Deep in the forests of Saint-Cyr stands a manor that breathes, where roses bloom in snow and walls sigh like lungs. Inside waits a woman—beautiful, unaged, and waiting for someone new to love her.

Step inside if you must. She’ll smile. She’ll ask if you’re tired.
And when you say yes… the house will inhale.

This is Phreak's Bedtime Stories.

They say she waited in her tower for a savior.
They never tell you what she was waiting to save.

The hair wasn’t golden—it was a warning, spun from something that wanted to touch the ground again.

This is the story of the girl in the tower…
and those who learned too late that not every rescue is meant to succeed.

Welcome to Phreak’s Bedtime Stories.