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October 2012

Explain This?

I am 53 years old, and the memory of this experience, which occurred when I was 11, the sheer terror I felt, is still as fresh as the night it happened. Retelling the tale to my kids, and learning about this website, has prompted me to share. My parents own

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The Womb

The gloomy interior of an abandoned factory. The air is dank and fetid. Somewhere in this crumbling, dark space the sound of machinery can be heard. The creak of metal grinding on metal, the hissing of steam and the low groan of rolling gears. In the centre of this vast,

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Will You Play With Me?

I never wanted to reveal my story, but it has to be done. It’s been so long, and nobody’s known. But now I confide in you, the reader, to read my story, and attempt to comprehend the horrors I experienced. My fingers stutter and shake and tears cascade down my

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So Cold

Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Bartholomew Jackson and I desperately need to get this story out by any means necessary. Your belief on the matter that follows is not required, but I would indeed appreciate it if you were to bear with me. I’m afraid I must

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Ice and Bone

I was struggling to identify something, anything, within the icy presence swirling around me. For eight years I had anticipated and feared this day. My eyes were rushing from side to side blindly; I couldn’t focus enough to see. Faster and faster they went, bringing with them my head, my

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Chills

These. Damn. Chills! I don’t remember when they started, I just remember having them…always having them. They’re the reason why I always wear layers, even in summer. Why I sleep with so many blankets. Why when I’m told to turn the heating down because the temperature of my room rivals

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The Shadow

Boxes. Boxes everywhere. Stacked on top of each other, scattered messily around the warehouse and some were torn open as if a child had been rummaging through them. The boxes held nothing of interest, at least not to the particular child who had been searching through them for upwards of

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The Plague Artist

If you’re reading this right now, it means I am no longer of this world. Either I’ve committed suicide or the Plague Artist has grown bored with my existence. I suppose it doesn’t matter which. This isn’t really a warning more than it is my will. I first encountered the

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Aeternam Tenebrae

A shadowy wind swept through the pines, shivering the trees with a cold they had not yet known. The creaking pines collided with one another in the freezing air. Snow from the bristles was prized off and carried into nothingness. The moon illuminated the snow with a sinister whiteness and

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