A Walk in the Dark

July 31, 2014 at 12:00 PM
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Anna Hamilton didn’t see herself as a suspicious person but when someone’s been following her for quite awhile she gets a queasy feeling in her stomach. Guaranteed she was out late but she was strong and from taking the new karate classes she knew she couldn’t (and wouldn’t) be defeated. Anna picked up the pace, her legs and arms pumping as she turned her walk into a brisk one, looking back to see that the dark silhouette was still following her.
Anna had the strongest urge to spin around and smack the strangers face and demand them to answer why the hell they are following her at this time of night. But her mind argued with her, saying how just maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe the stranger was just going the same way as her. A few more minutes and she had came to the entrance of her cookie-cutter home. She hated it but she wanted to humor her mother and to make it seem as if she actually cared about the presence of the house so she had put flower pots randomly. This neighborhood had no history of crimes but Anna has seen th news and people seem to get crazier by the second. She turned at a ninety degree angle up her drive way and what now seemed to look like a man, slowed his step, making Anna grow even more concerned.
“Look, can I help you with something? Are you lost or did you just want to follow me for the hell of it?” Anna finally confronted the man but all the man did was look up at her with haunted eyes and moved his head forward once again. It was almost robotic, “Well, I’m going inside now,” Anna unlocked the door and with suspicions she locked it up quickly behind her, watching as the man walked into the foggy night.

The next day and Anna had almost forgotten about the whole ordeal. But looking out her bedroom window she could see the shape of a man standing right outside her property, toes barely touching the curb of her yard. Turning around, she turned on the light and to make sure she wasn’t crazy she turned back to her window, only to see the mysterious man had gone.
Walking with her purse across of her shoulder she headed to her place of work, which so happened to be the library. If someone would ask she would say she loved her job, the smell of books and the hushed laughter of the school kids. Everyone loved Anna too, she was known to be the ‘cool librarian’, as she let the kids sneak in food and drinks or let them be a little too rambunctious.
As always her fellow librarian and friend, Katy, sat on one of the desks behind the tall counter. But instead of the latest Cosmo issue, she had a newspaper in hand, “My dear Katy! Is that actually a newspaper in your hands? I never knew I would be alive the day that Katy Pryce would read it,” Anna joked and Katy stuck her tongue out in response. Anna put her bag in the crew room and went to sit next to her friend. Peeking over her shoulder, Anna’s eyes furrowed and she pointed to a picture of a man that looked very similar, “Hey, I know him!”
Katy looked interested and set the newspaper down an inch, “You do? How?”
Anna shrugged, “He’s weird, he followed me home yesterday and I think I saw him outside my lawn this morning.”
“Are you sure Anna?”
Anna looked at her friend in confusion, “Yes of course, why?”
“He was murdered two weeks ago.”

Credit To – Kiah Johnson

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The Vault of Humanity

July 30, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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In the year 2005, the Humanity Archival Storage Project was commenced by leading government officials, scientists and academic alumni across the world due to the fear that humanity’s treasures were increasingly threatened by war and natural disasters. The project was one of the most complex undertaking in our species history: the creation of an archive of humanity’s knowledge and culture. The Archival Symplexical Computer was designed in the early days of the project. The device was composed of iron, the most stable of elements, and built to stand as a testament to our species for millennia.

After the construction of the ASC, I was assigned to the HASP team. We were a diverse bunch, consisting of representatives from the fields of science, history, the arts, and every other possible area of human study. Our task was to program the device with the information and artifacts worth preserving. Our group started off cordially enough, but we quickly broke down into sects and factions as we started fought viciously over what would be saved. The artists wanted musical samples and paintings saved, the historians wanted their nations’ prized documents included and the scientists wanted their formulas and theories preserved. Eventually, through a series of backroom deals and shifting alliances between disparate groups, a compromise of sorts was reached and onto the device went the formulas of Newton and Einstein, the plays of Shakespeare, the music of Mozart, the paintings of Picasso and many of the other great discoveries and creations of humanity.

In 2012, it was finally time to store the device. Locations around the world were scouted out, ranging from the Himalayas to the bottom of the Atlantic. Eventually, a decision was made to place the ASC beneath the Sweeney Mountains in Antarctica. The location was free from war and fault lines. The frigid code would even slow down wear and tear on the machine, extending its lifespan for another millennia or so. It was the perfect place to station the device.

Construction of the ASC vault started in 2013. The process took another year, but eventually the construction team reached suitable depths. I was there for the opening ceremony, as a drill team dug through the last twenty or so feet to reach appropriate levels for the ASC vault. At around noon, I heard the drilling stop. I thought they had finally reached acceptable levels, but the loud screaming that quickly filled the air freed me from this thought. A rescue team was sent in, but they reported that the drillers had hit a cavern hundreds of feet deep.

A rescue operation was quickly launched, but all that was left of the team was corpses and smashed machinery. They had simply fallen from too great a height for there to be any survivors. During clean-up, the body recovery team discovered something rather unusual: an ASC-like device wedged into the corner of the cavern. The device was nearly five-thousand years old.

Credit To – E.

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Stairs

July 28, 2014 at 12:00 PM
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My house is old. It’s by far the oldest house on our block. We tried to liven it up, to make it comfy, and and we did a pretty good job. We put colorful rugs on the freezing concrete, lamps in every corner. Every room was nice and modern-except the basement.

When I was a little kid, I would sprint up the stairs coming up from the basement. I don’t know what I was afraid of. Maybe a ghost, or a monster in the dark behind me, waiting for me to turn around so it can catch me and… I don’t know what it would do.

But now, as a seventeen year old boy, I’m walking up the stairs from my basement, and my childish fears, long repressed, are coming back. I tell myself to shut up, but that dark part in the back of my head tells me to run, to get out NOW. More than anything I want to rocket up those stairs as I did as a child, but I force my feet to take even, normal steps. I feel the overwhelming urge to look behind me, but I also want to win the battle of paranoia that’s going on in my brain.

So I slowly walk up the seemingly endless staircase, my palms sweating and my heart racing the entire way. But about ten steps from the top, I feel an ice cold hand close around my ankle.

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This Isn’t A Story

July 16, 2014 at 12:00 PM
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This is me. I’m here. I’m shifting the words that you’re reading, altering them from whatever this person wrote.

I’ve been here for awhile. For as long as you can remember, anyway. Sometimes I say your name as you’re falling asleep, or whisper urgently in your ear. Do you remember the time that I screamed, throwing panic through you and setting your heart racing?

That was fun.

You’re wondering who I am. That’s only natural. Of course, you already know.

I’m you. I’m the real you. I’m the mind that existed here before you stole my body, before you forgot about being a parasite. I’m the child who looked the wrong way, asked the wrong question, saw the wrong thing… but I’m not so little any more.

You may have forgotten me, but I’m still here. I’ve always been here.

I’m going to get out

Credit To – Haley P

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Behind The Veil

July 7, 2014 at 12:00 PM
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There are some things that are not part of the world of the living; questions that should never be answered, places that should never be discovered. But there will always be fools who will try to. And those who do, suffer a fate worse than death. Worse than any torture ever conceived in the dark corners of the human mind.

One such place lies deep beneath the ground, in an unreachable cave. Its entrance hidden, invisible to everyone, except to those who are cursed. After a three-day descent towards the source of the foul air, wandering ever further from sunlight and its warmth, you reach a vast opening.

An empty hall, more grandiose in its size than any King’s ever was, with only one object on the very centre; from the entrance of the hall it looks like a large stone pillar. But once closer, you can clearly see markings on the stone. These markings form the outline of a door, but can be deciphered by no man; they are written in a language that predates all.

Those who reach this door are unable to turn back or look away. Oblivious victims of the evil that lies in wait. It is this unknown force that compels them to examine the pillar closer. Not a single thought crosses their mind; loved ones are forgotten, secret desires neglected.

With the first touch, the stone crumbles. All dust and broken pieces fall into the dark abyss it was sealing. A veil of shadows forbids you from peeking through to the other side. Torches are extinguished and all light fades to nothing as he who stands before it feels the void sucking out the very warmth out of his body.

In the few moments you are allowed to remain in the world of the living, you become aware of your impending doom, the horrible fate you have brought upon yourself. Your mind has now gone blank. An empty vessel, mere puppet waiting for your master to give you the order; the order to take the last step and plunge into the abyss.

And without hesitation, you obey.

There is no pain behind the veil. No happiness or sorrow, no anger.
No emotion or sensation to experience lies hidden in the infinite abyss.
There is only existence in its purest form; enduring, timeless, eternal.

Devoid of all stimuli, all external feedback from the environment, from its own body, the mind goes insane. Those who are lucky lose their sanity before they can cause any more harm. They are to remain in their prison, their isolation from all to last for all eternity.

You, however…

A voice that belongs to neither a man nor a woman offers you an escape. In exchange for your freedom, you must speak the names of three people. Three people you love, three people you would give your life for. The voice will then show them the same dream that brought you here and you will be returned to your home.

Some, despite feeling their psyche crumbling, in a final moment of lucidity manage to remain silent, realising the truth. You, while frantically searching for an end to your torment give the voice the names it desires. The thought that you could return and warn your loved ones of the horror that awaits them, giving you hope.

But the voice only knows lies and deceit. It abandons you, and you are once again left alone. Only now, you are left knowing of the fate that awaits those who follow their dream. Those you once cared for, but will soon no longer even remember.

Credit To – TheZomber

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Thousands

July 6, 2014 at 12:00 AM
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You crawl into bed at around nine. Funny, that’s a little early for you, but you don’t seem to care. You toss and turn for a few minutes, before you feel it. Somebody’s watching you, you’re sure of it. You scan the room, finding nothing, but you still feel uneasy.

You lay back down, facing the room. You shut your eyes and try to sleep, but you can’t. You still feel the eyes on you, watching you.

You pull the covers over your head, and the feeling fades. You relax and close your eyes, but as soon as they shut, the feeling returns. You’re scared to move the covers, to search for the eyes that you know are watching you.

You’re terrified, but you yank the covers down, and as you do your heart skips a beat. You scan the room, seeing absolutely nothing yet again.

The feeling disappears, and you scold yourself for acting like such a child. You roll over toward the wall and quickly fall into a peaceful sleep.

But let me ask you this: Do you know how many hiding places there are in your room?

I do. Thousands.

Credit To – Abigail Druitt

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