I noticed her walking home from school one day. Her long hair was as dark as a raven’s feathers, and flowed out behind her as she walked. She was about ten feet in front of me as I was making my way to my house. She seemed horribly bent, and
The Screaming Woman Read More »
Bedtime is supposed to be a happy event for a tired child; for me it was terrifying. While some children might complain about being put to bed before they have finished watching a film or playing their favourite video game, when I was a child, night time was something to truly fear. Somewhere in the back of my mind it still is.
People always joked there was something unnatural about him, something inhuman. They joked about it often, referencing his otherworldly battling skills and silent demeanor. They didn’t know how right they were. The first thing anyone noticed about Red was his eyes—or, at least, the fact that it was so hard
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When you move into a new house, you always feel slightly uneasy, don’t you? It’s not really your house yet, a stranger’s house filled with your things. And during those first few weeks, you feel like you’re intruding into someone else’s personal space. Well, you are. You see, I moved
May all natural or intention of assumptions die here and remain here for as long as I, Holden J., shall live; notwithstanding how short that may be…. I hope that makes it clear straight off that this isn’t going to be some cruddy tea party or some other stupid shit
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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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
Sam knelt down before her mother’s grave. Tears welled up in her deep brown eyes with remembrance and sorrow. She felt a large sturdy hand on her back; it was Michael’s. His icy blue eyes pitied Sam, wondering how he could help save her from any more despair. As Sam
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“58, 59, 60” I counted. Josh took note. We moved on to the next box, this one full of electrical wires. I began counting. It was nearing twelve o’clock at night. Inventory was tedious, the warehouse was hot and had no A.C., but we were getting paid overtime, which made
Seven feet tall. Skin gray and pallid. Eyes of pure black. Breath fetid and rotting. The smell of decay upon its lips. Wings, paper-thin and laced with veins. Blood of putrid green. That’s how I’ve always imagined it. That’s how I see it still; that unnamable, unseen presence which pursued
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As a little girl growing up, my parents always tried to protect me by telling me legends and tales. My city is pretty notorious for strange behavior or paranormal happenings that have been occurring since the 1900s. One old tale that stands out most in my mind is the one
The Handsome Soldier Read More »
I was always a quiet child. I preferred playing alone outside to being around people. My dad thought it was because I was socially undeveloped, my mom was convinced I was just more creative then my peers and too smart to relate to them. I would go off to the
I awoke in a deep sweat again. The noise always wakes me up. That damn bell…Can’t believe it’s supper already. A guard walked up to my door and unlocked it. “Supper time, ya crazy bastard. It’s your favorite.” I gulped. From his tone I could tell that it must be
I hope someone discovers this. I write to no one in particular, in hopes that this can be read by all. I write this with the intention of giving a warning- straightforward, concise, and blatant in meaning. Perhaps an explanation is due. I’ll try to keep it brief. It’s well
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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
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
I always had a typical child’s fears while growing up. From the whole “I think I see something moving in the shadows!” to “I need you to check my closet for monsters, daddy!” It was childish, but everyone goes through it. After I hit my male pubescent years however, these
The first thing you need to remember is to never turn around. If you turn around, you’re dead. It had been a long day at the office taking calls from China, sorting through endless stacks of paper, dozing off with my elbows on my clear glass desk. . . definitely
I’m writing this down in this journal because if I don’t, I may go insane. You may think me insane after reading my story. I wish I was. My name is Jared Baldwin, and I am twenty-two years old. I recently moved into a brand new apartment in rural Maine.
~Written 2 months ago~ ~Mood: Nostalgic~ Okay, so I feel I must explain a few things to you. First of all, I am male, and believe it or not, I am a homosapien. That may come as a shock to a few of you seeing as I do come across
I recommend that you stop reading this now. Don’t say you weren’t warned. When I was younger, I would always get scared watching horror films and reading horror stories, just like everyone else. But, as I’m sure lots of other people will tell you, the real horror sets in after
It was a normal Friday night in Glasgow, Scotland. Clubs were clearly visible, the bright lights and the blaring noise dominating the night. But with light, there was also darkness. There was one, almost abandoned, housing estate where nothing was there and everything was silent, almost as if a bubble
So a little bit about myself before I relay a little bit of my story and if you guys enjoy it I will periodically come back and tell you a few more stories. Wealth may not run in my family but I sure inherited a lot of ghost stories. The
This is not a fictional story. This is an account of what happened to me when I was young. It was a normal day in County Kerry in Ireland, well, what the rest of you would consider to be normal. The likes of you reading this will probably have a
