A thousand years ago, stoic Norsemen built resilient ocean-going longboats from wood and iron. They used these robust vessels to conquer the Arctic Ocean, discovering North America centuries before the Nina, Pinta and Santa Maria sailed from Lisbon. We have no intact, complete record of their journeys, but history has preserved a patchwork of sagas that describe many wonders of the age. These are tales of both victory and vanquish, success and failure, and, though they on occasion echo the violent fortunes of many lost Viking explorers, we will never know what became of those who sailed away...

Klis would be their first failure and it would mark the end of their conquest. When the Mongol envoy entered into the city walls, he offered its citizens the same thing the Mongols offered every conquest - tribute or extermination. The city inhabitants would refuse the former to brave the latter and they would survive. The Mongol hordes once marched from the Far East into Europe. There, they encountered their first breaking point at the fortified city of Klis.

Declared missing-in-action while serving in Afghanistan, her eldest son's disappearance has left a massive whole in this mother's life. It cannot be filled by human sympathy or the keepsakes of memories, and, though he is certainly dead, she refuses to speak of it and insists he is still alive somewhere out there in the world. On her deathbed, she reveals to her family that he has been calling her every Friday when it rains. A mother's love for her children may transcend time. When it does, who can determine where reality ends and desperate fantasy begin? Only she and her son know the truth.

Built of stone with untold expenditures of human blood and sweat, it is an ancient city standing above the towering canopies of an endless primordial forest. For generations, human sacrifices fed her before her magic failed and her inhabitants abandoned her. She will return to the forest, creeper on creeper, root upon root. This is her story. This is the story of Toltaca. Within the depths of a heart of darkness, human kind builds a city of stone. Its siren song of civilization is undeniable. For a time.

The plight of the village is desperate and dire. Once protected by a powerful shaman, their savior has grown old and decrepit and a violent storm is brewing on the horizon. To save them, he must perform the ritual, but they fear he is too weak to succeed in time. Will he beat the clock and conjure before she comes, the devil? Ethereal and sublime, theirs is a lust to outlast the ages. It's a hell of a ride

Not everyone in war-torn Europe believed in bigotry and hatred. Even among a nation of monsters, a few human beings remained, hidden and camouflaged within the guise of Nazism and fanaticism. This is the story of one such old man, a railyard, and tiny scraps of paper drifting on the wind, each bearing a desperate last message from the dead. This really happened. It didn't have to happen, but it really, really did.

This home has a history as unforgettable as it is undeniable. Many generations have lived and died within its walls and many of those who died linger beyond the grave to dwell there still. Stop in for a weekend of mystery and fun. Thrill to the unexplained thumps, taps and footsteps. Marvel at the passing cold in the heat of a southern summer. The house is as ancient as the evil that inhabits it. Is it your imagination? Or is it the Immaculate?

He's the proverbial grumpy old man and he ruthlessly keeps his hit-lists. You had better hope he never jots your name down in his notebook, because he'll make you the object of his obsessive ire. His dissatisfaction is relentless. Unfortunately, today is his last day on Earth and God just stepped over the line That's it God just made the list

Deep down in the guts of the world, men and women struggle daily to deliver fuel to feed a ravenous industry. It is dangerous work. Regardless of color, creed or religion, these hardy souls must work together as one or perish individually down in the dark where the devil dwells. Black as coal? Yeah, maybe. So what?