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.

When the fog laughs, the children answer.
They call him the Radiant One—a boy made of sunlight and hunger, whose laughter opens the way to a place that shouldn’t exist.
They say the island is paradise.
They never say what happens after the laughter stops.

This is the story of a boy who never grew old… and the man who refused to forget him.
Welcome to Phreak’s Bedtime Stories.

Hey, you remember the bedtime stories, right?
The ones that promised happily ever after?
Yeah. Those were lies.

Phreak’s Bedtime Stories cracks open the fairytales you thought you knew and lets the dark crawl out. These are the versions whispered in candlelight—the ones that never ended, the ones that waited for you to grow up so they could find you again.

From Two Brothers Two Agendas, Phreak returns with tales that breathe, bleed, and bite back. Just one voice, one light in the dark, daring you to listen.

So go ahead.
Blow out the candle.
The story’s already awake.