Related: Harlequin No.7 & The Kindness of Strangers “I ask him why above he crawls, scratching apart my bedroom walls. And he looks down through white eyes peeping, And says… I’m not crawling, I’m simply creeping.” -       Music & lyrics by Billie-Joe Kimble. The job of a mortician is...

It's raining outside. I really hate the rain in this town. That's all it ever does, is rain. Drop. Drop. Drop. I looked over to my right at the nightstand beside my bed. The clock read 3:40am. This always seems to happen. It rains so hard outside that...

I had managed to keep a healthy scepticism of ghosts, ghouls and all things supernatural until I was 28. I found most claims of such things to be dubious at best, and harmful at worst. I was very much in the camp of the classical...

This all started with simple, little events. They were the kind of things that you question for a moment, and let pass without too much thought.  I’ll start from the beginning: It was a warm Saturday morning in spring. Saturdays were always early days for me,...

Well, here I am. 2 A.M on a damn school night. Lying in bed, unable to sleep again, on my laptop, writing this. I’m writing to get my story out, to let someone know what happened. Because lord knows I can’t speak about this to...

You wake up startled, gasping for air, as you recover from a nightmare. It’s the same nightmare that has been repeating itself for weeks now. Every night, you helplessly watch as the same damn scene unfolds right before your eyes. There are children running around...

My mother, dead now these past eighteen months – may God rest her soul – was a fanatically superstitious woman. Her ancestry, a combination of strict Catholicism and Irish folklore, had resulted in a potent blend which caused her to view life as a series...

Henry worked in an office. It was an ordinary office in an ordinary city where he was paid an ordinary wage to do ordinary things. For many this would have been tedious and frustrating, but not for Henry because he too was ordinary, and he...

“Bitterness is like cancer. It eats upon the host. But anger is like fire. It burns it all clean.” - Maya Angelou   I know of an anecdote, one about a little girl named Madeline. Little Maddie was seven years old, with dark chestnut hair and wide blue eyes....