Dreamtales Comics -

He woke up on the floor of the antique shop, the iron ring lying a foot away from his hand, smoking. Elara was kneeling over him, her face ashen.

She let him choose a “safe” one: “The Baker’s Dozen,” a comfy DreamTale about a magical bakery where the pastries sang. Leo put on the locket before bed, and that night, he dreamed of gingerbread waltzes and a croissant that told terrible puns. He woke up laughing, his pillow dusted with what looked like powdered sugar. dreamtales comics

“Your story is weak,” the Ringmaster hissed, gesturing to a blank storyboard that towered into the grey sky. “A boy in a shop. A grandmother. Safe. Boring. We will replace it. We will give you substance . You will be ‘The Boy Who Fed the Carnival.’ A tragedy in three acts. The critics will adore it.” He woke up on the floor of the

Outside, the afternoon sun vanished behind a single, grey cloud. And far away, like the echo of a broken calliope, Leo heard the faintest sound of applause. Leo put on the locket before bed, and

It wasn’t locked. The iron ring sat there, alone on the black velvet. It seemed to thrum. Try me. Just for a minute.