Every other weekend I make it a habit of mine to visit Janine’s Mercantile, an indoor flea market located on the outskirts of the town I have called home my whole life. Summershore, Wyoming. Whoever named this town must’ve had a great sense of humor, too bad it doesn’t keep
Read part one here Read part two here He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know. He couldn’t know… Right? I have always thought that, when faced with a killer, I would confront them. I would attempt to incapacitate such a monster and turn them into the police to ensure they
Children of Light (part 3) Read More »
The days all started with the briefing room—a wall-to-wall palette of aged pastels and stark, hospital grayness. In the center of our little room, an oval-shaped table dominated the space with every seat filled with a tired nurse. From one of the windows, a bar of morning light often slipped
The Man Who Ate Ghosts Read More »
Read part one here Cold. It comes on quickly at first, but slowly creeps over your entire body until an agonizingly comfortable numbness spreads over you, and finally you freeze to death. Sometimes, however, it is the only thing that keeps you from passing out in sheer panic. My lungs
Children of Light (part two) Read More »
I’ve often heard that the hardest part of every journey is the first step. When you are trying to find the motivation to write your story, staring into an endless white void that demands to be filled, that is definitely the case. That paralyzing feeling was exactly what I felt
Children of Light (part one) Read More »
I’ve been writing stories for as long as I can remember. Ever since I first learned to write, I would always have a notebook and a pencil by my side. It still surprises me nowadays when I walk past a bookstore and I see my own novel in the window.
The night was quiet. The cool breeze came and went, like the breath of a sleeping child. But I was not peacefully asleep, as the murmur had begun again. It had been going on for a few months now. We had moved in to our new home last year, and
The most worrying part of the whole experience was that this isn’t something that happened in a strange place. It wasn’t too dark outside; it certainly wasn’t cold. Everything was normal, ALMOST everything… Our flat in East London was surprisingly big, given our budget and the reputation of the area.
This Little Light of Mine Read More »
Hello Grandma, I am currently writing to you because I’m afraid that you are the last of my relatives who I believe will be willing to hear my story. You are the only one who will believe me, and right now, you are the only one who can help me.
From Where It Came Read More »
If like me you identify as an introvert and consider yourself as something of a misanthropist, you’ve probably dreamt at one point or another of escaping to a deserted island somewhere and living in peace and solitude, free from the stresses of the modern world. The fantasy of running off
‘I am an Irish Ghost Hunter. My last investigation almost cost me everything.’ Read More »
A couple weeks ago I ran into a cousin I haven’t seen in years. He is much older than me, and closer to my dad’s age than my own, but I remember seeing him often when growing up. Melvin was the black sheep of the family, he had a couple
Coffee Man is the only one who says he can see them. Other inmates have stayed up dead into the night, pressing their ears to the concrete of the floor or the walls, slipping their hands through the bars and waiting for something to touch them in the darkness, and
Everybody loves the woods, until they follow you home. When my father came back from the military, we bought our first house—a boxy, two-story affair on the woodsy outskirts part of town. I was twelve, going on thirteen then. Our neighborhood was a little off the beaten path, nestled somewhere
Forever and Always Read More »
I failed and, now, I don’t know what to do. To clarify, I write about and, sometimes, perform popular rituals I find online. Yeah, it’s kind of a stupid hobby, but I thought it was fun. I even made money from recording some of them and posting them on YouTube.
She Waits for me in the Tub Read More »
My brother shut the door of our apartment with a long, exaggerated sigh. He walked right to the fridge to grab two tall Bud Lights from the fridge: one for him and one for me. “Tough day at work?” I said. “Same as every day.” He drank half of his
The first time I caught the night bus was pure chance. I’d heard the legends of course, we all had. Urban legends are a big thing where I live. I suspect its partly because I hail from an unremarkable and frankly dull provincial city that has little else going for
I’m Richard Davies, a second generation Indian American and an ex internet celebrity. What made me famous you ask? Well, I’m a ghost hunter. Though technically I don’t really hunt ghosts, but instead prove that they don’t exist. I got this idea after I watching a documentary where a team
Dak and Chadwick each lit up a smoke and cracked their windows, the excitement of a good day fishing warming their spirits despite the cold wind that suddenly filled the cab of Chadwick’s truck. The sporadic raindrops that began to fall as they left the river pooled in the road
Wrong Turn On Light Road Read More »
Have you ever had that feeling in the pit of your stomach when you feel like something bad is going to happen? It is a new level of anxiety that makes my mind want to explode! My family has always been wealthy due to our family name owning many large
When The Lights Go Out Read More »
I had been a forty nine-er and a lucky one at that. Having made a small fortune in gold, that is to say, enough to put a substantial stake in a successful shipping business, my stock had risen and I was then a man who could spend time at leisure.
It is 1894. Fog hangs heavy on this cold, still, San Francisco night. Madame Grace, a young woman of African descent, stands before the door of a dark, three-story, Victorian-style house. The turban atop her head to the jeweled anklets draped above her feet, speak of a spiritualist. Charles, her
The house was unbearably still. Not even a bug dared to move in the dust that covered the old oak floor, for even they were terrified of what crept in the dark corners. Mel knew it was a bad idea coming here from the start. Not even the sun in
A Ghost-less Sheet Read More »
Read part one here Read part two here With haste, the pair quietly exited the sanctuary and walked through the town that saw it’s citizens begin making their way to Black Rock Chapel. “Wednesday mass…”, Father Carroway muttered, silently chastising himself for the lapse in memory. “What is it, Father?”,
The Black Rock Chapel Horror part three Read More »
Read part one here Father Carroway wandered about in the ever-extended void of subconscious. Unable to feel or perceive anything anymore, he wondered if he had indeed perished through either the means of the serpent’s venom or the trauma of the crash down the spiraling stone stairs. “Am I dead?”,
The Black Rock Chapel Horror part two Read More »
