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 […]
Will You Play With Me? Read More »
The mind. A realm that is mysterious to me even to this day. Though I take refuge there during long, hot days to get away from the bright, burning sun, escape there in the afternoon, when the sky is gray with storm clouds and the sun has all but receded,
“Slenderman isn’t real.” That’s how this story starts. That’s how this story will most likely end. I don’t lie. My name is Raksha, and this is my story. “Slenderman isn’t real.” Helen has said this a variety of times to me. I nod vaguely and she cries out in frustration.
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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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Jonathan Felix sat back in the chair after affixing the final electrodes to his skull. He currently reclined in one of the most expensive private scientific investments in the world, and today was the fruition of his, and many others, efforts. The aim of the project was to open a
Lighting a match he let the fire lick up to his fingers, he dropped the blackened, burning match into a cup of stale coffee, relishing in the familiar sound of the extinguished flame. His burnt fingers and lips were tokens of his fate, it seemed. The fire was somehow apart
It felt like the short time after one wakes up from a nap; it feels as if everything is not real, as if you are still not fully awake. I opened my eyes and found myself placed in this scene straight out of a thriller. I found myself standing in
A stone quarry is an awful place to be at night if you’ve got a nervous disposition, like I do. The silhouettes created by the hewn rocks look like stalking figures, and the whole place is haunted by twisted shadows. Even worse, tonight it’s raining. The heavy plinking of water
Dear Abby, We’ve never met before, so this may seem a bit odd, but I feel this is necessary. My name’s Jay for starters, I work the checkout line at the grocery store up on 67th Street. You know the one with the parking lot that’s way too big for
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
I’m sure that it must happen to everybody. If you’re lucky, it only occurs in dreams; that moment where some part of your brain decides that whatever horrible thing that’s currently happening is just too awful, that things will never be the same and that this cannot actually be real – and of course,
Like snakes slithering, intertwined, So are the constructs of my mind. I wonder if ’twas by Divine design, Or just the passage of Earth’s cruel time. No matter the case, I must digress, For I cannot think under such duress, Nor contemplate mine own egress, Into this dark pit of
Entry 1 I made a terrible mistake. I thought I was just paranoid, but now I know it’s following me. It’s never going to let me forget about one stupid mistake. I’m not sure what “it” looks like. The only name I can call it is Karma. I thought it
Imagine the multiverse: Atoms converging into patterns infinite. Most universes listening to physics, placing only that which should exist into reality, but there are others in which the impossible happens simply because there’s no reason it is not. All the darkest horrors of the grimmest imaginations, made real with naught
As I walked into my local library, I felt at peace. Some people are addicted to heroin; I am addicted to literature. I love the way libraries are so organized, not only are books separated by genre but are also placed in alphabetical order. Beyond the placements of books the
THE EYES There was once a young artist named Lisa. She was haunted all her life by disturbing dreams. One dream in particular made her dread sleep. It was always the same, a dark hallway and an evil clown pursuing her. Lisa was exhausted from her broken sleep. She was
This is not a story of some roadside ghost that causes accidents, a creepy episode of a famous TV show, The disappearance of an entire town, or anything of the sort. This is the story of me, a seemingly normal citizen that leads a seemingly normal life. I live in
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She felt alone. The old room gave her two distinctly opposing feelings: comfort and a hollow heart. The windows were tainted with streaks from rain and a poor paint job, the aged wooden floor covered in remnants of hay, dirt, and wood. Miscellaneous items surrounded her: a neon orange sled
Tending to my sister Emily is a taxing job. It’s been perhaps three years since she’s become too infirm to leave the house, and I’m afraid I’m often the only company she can enjoy anymore. She used to love spending days in the park so much. I am always heartbroken
I once had a great friend by the name of Johnny. He was the type of guy who could cheer the air wherever he went. A very laid back fellow, the kind that could come up with a joke for any situation. He was a bit of a slob, but
Frequently among one’s daily travels are others often overlooked by the dizzying pace of modernization. I recall, however, an incident in my own life when the most peculiar of happenings occurred. The day it took placed upon had been the most average among many. I had ventured to town, be
I’ve always lived a relatively normal life. I was the typical teenage girl, though I was a tomboy. I had never once been a girly-girl, or dreamed of holding frilly pom-poms and being popular. That just wasn’t my style. I much preferred to stay in my house, sitting in front
Joanna thought she looked better than usual today. She ran her fingers through her long, limp, once beautiful red hair, thinking about how the sun would reflect in it. How Ben once said she looked beautiful. It felt like a dream. It didn’t happen to her. “What’s the plan today,
It happens every night the minute before midnight. I feel its slimy tendrils swirling in the air at the foot of my bed. I want to scream, but absolute fear paralyzes me. I close my eyes and wait for the things to slip under my blanket and try to pull
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