They call her the queen of mischief at King City High School—a title she earned with little effort. No one matched her audacious, rule-breaking nature. Fear held everyone back, for good reason. She didn’t dread getting caught, being exposed, or facing what terrified others. The absence of fear was what
Don’t Trust the Ones Who Protect You Read More »
Deep in the great woods in England’s heart stands a small village of Eldenmoore. In the 16th century it was ruled by the great Baron Armstrong. He was a tyrant of a man known for little more than cruelty and greed. Few who lived under his rule had kind words
I am certain that my fascination with the gone and forgotten stems from my own fear of impermanence. Leaving something behind when I am gone is of utmost importance to me, so I have dedicated my life to preserving and sharing the legacies and lives of others who have passed.
Mr Conrad’s Final Tale Read More »
ORDINARY FOLK had no reason to fear the Moon. Or so they thought. It hung in the sky as a welcome guardian, pale as paper in its various phases, providing light to travelers and highwaymen when it was full. It meant no harm and could do no harm. Yet tonight,
Blood Moon: Bound in Blood and Magic Read More »
The sun was a jagged, bleeding wound on the horizon as Miles and Sarah pushed through the Mojave. Their old Jeep Wrangler rumbled with a comforting rhythm, the air conditioner fighting a losing battle against the dry, oppressive heat of the Nevada desert. They were happy. More than happy—they were
The Mother of the Mojave Read More »
I don’t remember why I went into the forest. There was no clear starting point. No moment when I stepped off a path or made a choice. It was just where I found myself. Trees reached endlessly upward, and the light felt soft but wrong. Everything seemed paused for too
The Cave of still machines Read More »
Unsealed file from the Esther Police Department. Case File # 10-0251. On May 31, 2010, Esther Police department and the Bard County Sheriff’s Department received a weak 911 call from twenty-three year old Scottie Jones, reporting that he and his friends were trapped in the woods and needed help. 911
The camera didn’t look like something that should still work. Didn’t feel right from the start. When my sister handed me that box on my birthday, I could tell it’d be a pile of garbage. She’d always been a cheapskate, the woman can’t walk past a yard sale without stopping.
Followers of the Flaming Hand Read More »
I’ve been a police officer for a long time, and there are certain things you learn to ignore if you want to sleep at night. This is not one of those things. I’m writing this anonymously because I was involved in a case back in 2019, and despite everything we
Grandma’s Footsteps Read More »
These posts were taken directly from a blog that got removed shortly after the last upload. Archived text below. HeyWarren – Posted 2/27/19 9:23pmMy Roommate Is Missing – Entry #1 Not really sure how to start this. So, I guess I’ll just try to start from the beginning. My name
No one ever talks about the sounds. They talk about the body.They talk about the wire.They talk about the eyes.But no one talks about the sounds.Because if they did… they’d understand it wasn’t just a killing.It was a sermon. Before the cornfield…Before the crows learned his name…There was a man
The Last Sermon of Malachi Read More »
The photograph looked ordinary at first. On a quiet Saturday morning, the small neighborhood yard sale did not look very exciting. A few folding tables stood on the sidewalk in front of a modest brick house. Cardboard boxes sat under the tables. Old blankets were spread across the grass with
The Man in the Photograph Read More »
I was born on a small cabbage farm just outside of Racine, Wisconsin on April 14, 1900. The lone son of two God-fearing German immigrants, I was raised on hard work, religious reverence, and teetotalism.My parents first moved to the United States in August of 1898 with the hopes of
Stacy and I switched the power on and sent ourselves to an early grave. I say an early grave, but I don’t expect there will be anyone left to bury us. It was an honest mistake, one we couldn’t have foreseen. To any who may read these words after the
A Thing of Flesh and Copper Read More »
The first time I dreamed of Rose, I didn’t think it mattered. I’m not the kind of person who reads into dreams. I’m practical, tired, the sort of man who forgets to eat and forgets to water plants until they die quietly. I don’t believe in signs. I believe in
It was October 1st of 1967, and the campus of Montauk University sat quiet and still in the new morning hours. The sky was dark, street lamps bright, and all students living on campus were asleep. Except, of course, for two figures who sauntered down the sidewalk towards the campus
I still remember the night it happened. I was nine. We were driving home from my grandma’s house late, rain pounding the windshield so hard the wipers couldn’t keep up. Dad was humming along to the radio, Mom was half-asleep in the passenger seat. Then the truck came out of
It seemed as if I were awakening from a dream when I snapped to in the middle of the sidewalk, stopping in my tracks while people behind me yelled as they bumped into me. The cold winter air brushed my cheeks, yet that was the only thing that seemed familiar.
The air was foggy, so much so I was barely able to see my hand before my eyes. The mist surrounding me was dense and the heat added to my pleasurable experience. I took the highest seat, my favorite and I was alone. The solitude was thoroughly enjoyable, something I
Chlorine stained the concrete like blood in the glow of the pool lights. Tree limbs offered dying leaves as fall slipped away into winter.“Are there cameras?” she asked, searching the far corners of the pool yard hidden by shadows.“If so they don’t work,” he said. “This area got overlooked a
As soon as Paul Anderson walked into Bennett’s Bait and Tackle, I immediately thought of the homemade missing persons sign stapled on the corkboard by the bathroom, constructed with the hope of it aiding in finding his missing son. Then my mind drifted to an image of the poorly written
“Delta squad, clear that building!” The command ripped from Tim Brinley’s throat, echoing through the blistering desert air, a phrase so familiar to him it was more reflex than speech. This was his second deployment, and he knew with weary certainty it would be his last. The monotony of military
A lot of questions have been asked of me lately by many different parties. My parents want to know why I almost refuse to leave the house anymore. My doctor wants to know what has been causing my insomnia. The police want to know my whereabouts and actions on the
The Wood Witch’s Ritual Read More »
His heavy corpse clings to her back like an undesirable cloak. His rotting flesh melting into her pores, moulding itself to her structure. She used to be able to peel his skin away with her finger tips but now she must use a pair of blunt scissors she carries in
Love is but a knife we sear ourselves with Read More »
