Any mother who has more than one child will admit-if she’s honest-that she has one child who worries her more than the others. This has nothing to do with love, but rather some children’s propensity to find trouble-the child most likely to get in a fight at school, or picked […]
It’s a stabbing pain, really. It comes suddenly. Without warning. I don’t know how many doctors I’ve seen. Migraine? Migraine medications didn’t help. Tension headaches? Please. I’m fine most of the time. But then it hits. It hits right behind my eye. It attacks me. Like some tiny demon with
“I can’t sleep,” she whispered as she crawled into bed and spooned against my back. “Jesus, you’re cold,” I murmured. She only snuggled closer, throwing her leg over mine. I lay there for a few beats, caught between my alcohol-induced sleep and wakefulness, until I realized whatever this cold thing
Before I start I should mention that the names of the crew who worked on the movie have been either changed or omitted. That being said, in 2016 an up-and-coming film director started work on a film that he thought would get his name out there. He was already gaining
Driving down the road far from home, on my way back from work – I’m surrounded by pastures and rural country houses. Late in the night, dark but backlit by a pale moon I drive fast, but not too fast. I’m tired. The day’s work has pushed me over the
My name is Harley, and I’ve been with my boyfriend Dan for five years, lived with him for three. I love Dan more than anything in this world. He’s my best friend, my partner in crime, my biggest pest, and my number one supporter. I honestly couldn’t imagine my life
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About half a year ago, I moved into a new apartment downtown. It’s hands-down the most upscale place I’ve lived in—rooftop access, a fitness center, a pool, huge windows with beautiful views of the city… this place had it all. My leasing agent said apartments in that building were going
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I hate the water. Always have, always will. Oh, sure, I’ve swum in pools and jumped off diving boards like any other person, but I have never once allowed my feet to leave the ground at a beach or lake. Something about not having solid ground to stand on freaks
When I got the first one, I was literally seconds away from stepping onto the plane when a call from “UNKNOWN” blared from my cell phone. It was a ringtone I hadn’t heard before, one I was pretty sure hadn’t come with the phone. Normally, I wouldn’t have stopped to
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I can’t stand to be back here. This tiny, rural town I grew up in, it makes my skin crawl to see everything around me. I’m well into middle-age now, but it’s like this town has been frozen in time since I was a teenager. And the older I get,
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Pistachio nuts littered the thin blue vinyl covering of the table. Salt and dust collected on the pads of Brendan’s fingers. He cracked each nut with excessive force, letting the splintered shells fall idly from his hands. Not that he was paying any attention to them. His gaze was focused
I grew up in a tiny town in Vermont. Tiny in terms of population, not size—there were huge sprawling farms and wooded areas, but almost no people. More cows than people, which is standard for a lot of small towns in Vermont. So, clearly, not the most fun in the
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I still dream about the ocean, waves capped with foam, the whispered poetry of high tide, pools filled with brine-crusted treasures. I dream about storms and faces. A roar of thunder wakes me to a cold sweat and an empty room, and I try to fall back asleep. I try
I wish I had my big sister’s hair. Hers is soft and light. Touching her arms is like touching peach fuzz. When she sweats her skin looks like melted butter. It’s not fair. My hair is thick, wiry, and black as spider legs. I’m only thirteen and I have thicker hair on my arms and legs than most boys on the Tanglewood Junior High football team.
The Backrooms is a relatively recent example of internet folklore that is still expanding its scope and mythology. Essentially, the backrooms posit the existence of a ‘place’ that people can slip (or ‘noclip’) into and become lost or trapped. An unreality behind or parallel to this reality, The Backrooms are
I never wanted to go on that stupid hike in the first place. Yet there I was, allegedly enjoying nature and getting healthy exercise while hiking from “cabin to cabin” in the Norwegian mountains with the devil spawn otherwise known as my class. Woohoo, right? For a misanthropic misfit like myself, it was a nightmare. Within half an hour of walking on the uneven path over the heather, I was at the back of the group.
You’d finally done it. After weeks of digging around and bugging the lady at the front desk, you’d found it: the elevator code for floor zero. You make your way to the nearest elevator, trying your hardest to contain your excitement. You’ve been told so many rumors about the place that you weren’t sure if they were even fiction. Some said it was a dark room full of spiderwebs, some said it was full of old mannequins, and some said it was just a storage floor with nothing interesting to see.
I ran as fast as I could. My heart was racing and I could feel my side cramping up. Don’t look behind. I told myself. And so I kept running. I could hear movement behind me. Faster and faster until I felt excruciating pain on my ankle. I screamed and fell on the ground, allowing me to be face to face with my enemy. A python. It looked at me almost as if it knew me. And I stared right back. I could feel it’s hatred. I’ve done nothing to you. I said in my mind. The snake shook its head and moved behind me. I felt paralyzed. As the snake made its way around me, it hissed in my ear.
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I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed. Today a friend of mine told me a story. His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how
Addiction took our mother slowly, rocked her through it and sung her to sleep sunk deep into the mattress on her bed. When her back teeth fell out, she left them on the side of the bathtub. I was seven, and I kept them in a matchbox, the missing pieces
It all started after moving into my new house. Yeah, that’s pretty cliché. Believe me, I know, but it’s what happened. I never experienced anything supernatural before and, though interested, I never really expected anything to happen to me. I was able to rent the house for pretty cheap. I
Within the Darkness Read More »
I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder when I was five. I have always struggled to interact with people because of this disorder, spending large amounts of time attempting to fix imperfections around me. I would lash out harshly at people around me if they touched me or my things, and
In the heart of a second-growth piney-woods jungle of southern Alabama, a region sparsely settled by backwoods blacks and Cajuns—that queer, half-wild people descended from Acadian exiles of the middle eighteenth century—stands a strange, enormous ruin.
I recently discovered the most amazing resource to help those dealing with mental illnesses and personality disorders, and I want to share what I’ve learned with as many others as possible. Since I know so many struggle with these problems, I hope you find this information useful. But first, I’d
