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October 2013

Kalhuzacan

It was probably nothing, he thought, suppressing a shiver of fear; just next doors cat jumping down from the bureau, or the broom falling over in the kitchen. After all, everybody knows that in the dead of night, even the smallest sound pierces the veil of silence and encroaching dreams

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Skin Deep

Rory Larkin often asked himself why he had decided to visit the house on Baileigh street. Was it an attempt to show everyone that he was fearless and rational enough to discard some silly superstitions that reigned over the hearts and minds of Rasperville’s townsfolk? No, no and no. Rory

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My Name Is

My name’s Charlie, and I’m 15-years old. I’ve lived in Chicago for just about my entire life before my entire family moved to the small town of ********* (I’m not going to name it for personal reasons). There’s been a story going around this little town, something about children getting

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Deepest Fear

It took me a month to figure out the pattern- the pattern It was using to kill us off. At first it was Jack, who was found dead, lying face-down and submerged in his own bathtub. His mother had been the one that found him, the poor woman. Her lifeless

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Higher Powers

The chairs were the old school folding kind, brown metal with tan cushions that were almost comfortable. They were usually folded and stacked neatly against the wall in the basement of the church on Dionin street. Three times a week they were unfolded and made into a circle: once for

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Twist and Shout

It was late October in Brookhurst Wyoming in the year 1965. I was eighteen, and I lived with my sister in an older barn house, on the edge of town. I loved that little town- especially in the fall. The deep oranges, bold yellows, and dense reds of the season

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Masks

Gordon Simmons slammed into his locker. “Ow! What the hell?”, he struggled to shout with his face pressed against the cold blue metal. “Man, Gordo! Your locker stinks worse than you do!”, chastised the bully. Judging by the voice, Gordon could tell it was Jordan Merrick. Jordan was always a

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The Passenger

Several months ago a friend of mine alerted me to a puzzling incident on an inner-city bus. Being a bus driver himself, he had heard many of the usual generic stories that would be exchanged around the depot – muggings, broken windows, the occasional couple attempting drunken sex; some drivers

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The Sneak

I don’t know why, but for whatever reason, I’ve always been naturally sneaky. Without putting any effort into the endeavor, I was always scaring people, or at the very least making them jump. Sometimes even when I approached from the front, people wouldn’t notice me until I was right upon

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The Shoebox

I’ve decided to share this here because honestly? I feel like I NEED to talk about this before I go crazy. And this is probably the only place where I could talk about this and not have people think that I’m crazy. My name is Elizabeth Black. I’ve lived in

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