Cut Deeper: Volume One
Eight stories from a dark season
Volume One is complete. Eight short stories written during a heavy stretch. Each one came from pressure I needed to get out of my system.
I wrote what stayed in my head. I kept the scenes close, fast, and grounded. Real moments shaped every beat.
This series helped me stay steady when my days felt crowded. It gave me a place to put fear, memory, and tension.
It kept me moving when stopping felt easier.
Thank you to everyone who stayed with me through this fall season. Some of you read each episode the day it dropped. Some of you joined later.
Some of you are here for the first time.
I appreciate every person in this space.
Your support made this volume possible. Your messages, your time, your attention, all of it carried weight.
It reminded me that these stories reach someone on the other side of the screen.
As we move into the holiday season, I am giving myself a pause from horror. I need the break. I also want clear space to build my next project with intention.
Below is a snapshot of Volume One:
Cut Deeper: Volume One
Episodes 01 to 08
Chains in the Concrete
Halloween night in the city. Not the kind with jack-o’-lanterns and porch lights. This is concrete blocks and busted streetlamps. Kids dart through corner stores and bodegas, plastic masks flashing in the pink and green glow of neon signs. The air smells like fried food, cheap cologne, and rain that has not fallen yet.
I Have Your Delivery
The rain came hard against the windows, a steady hiss under the rumble of his headset. The room was a wash of blue light, LED strips pulsing with each gunfire flash on screen. His fingers moved without thought, clicks snapping through the dark like sparks.
Hunger of Shadows
A candle guttered inside a collapsing jack o lantern, flame licking the wet edges of its grin. Wind slid through the yard, carrying the smell of smoke and sugar.
Where the Fog Sleeps
The night stretched open above the city, soft orange fading into blue. Smoke from distant bonfires drifted across the overlook, heavy with the scent of burnt leaves and beer. A car sat at the edge of the cliff, its metal ticking as it cooled. Inside, two figures passed a bottle between them, the radio humming a slow song through static.
Take One
The street still wore its costume. Strings of orange bulbs blinked across porches, and paper ghosts turned slow above the lawns. The air carried that mix of smoke and sugar, sweet and dry, as if the night itself had a taste.
It's Never Just a Puzzle
The sun slipped behind the rooftops as the town sank into shadow. Storefronts were shuttered, porch lights off, the air swollen with rain. Only one window still glowed on Main Street, the hand-painted sign reading Antiques and Oddments.
No Direction
The highway stretched in a long dark line under the November sky. Cold air pressed against the windows and the moon sat low behind thin fog. The headlights carved a pale path through the quiet.
The Holding Floor
Moonlight slipped through the blinds in narrow bands and crossed the hospital room. Machines clicked in steady intervals beside the bed.
Thank you for being here. Thank you for giving Volume One a place to land. I look forward to returning with new ideas and a clearer mind.
Happy Holidays…
With appreciation,
Jasmine Couture
If something in this stayed with you, feel free to show support through Buy Me a Coffee ☕️ Every cup goes toward the next piece I create. buymeacoffee.com/beyondcouturefilms
I will have to read this over the next week. Looking forward to your stories.