It may be hard to believe for those of us born in the digital age—when every embarrassing moment can potentially be uploaded to Youtube for posterity—but an estimated 70% of all films from the silent era are thought to be lost. Of the silent film directors whose works have largely […]
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
I do not know if it’s just always been there or something I only noticed as I grew up. As of late, it’s become more present. I just call him the shadow. The shadow is nothing more than it sounds: a deep black figure with no distinguishing features. For awhile,
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
Department of Parapsychology, London. Item no. 1282. 15/03/1996. Found in the sub-basement of Gallowsditch House, Highgate Village, London . Item is a box containing papers and broken shards of mirror. The box is made from oak, measures exactly 11 inches by 11 inches and is fitted with a brass lock
Doppelgänger Ritual IV Read More »
I am 53 years old, and the memory of this experience, which occurred when I was 11, the sheer terror I felt, is still as fresh as the night it happened. Retelling the tale to my kids, and learning about this website, has prompted me to share. My parents own
The gloomy interior of an abandoned factory. The air is dank and fetid. Somewhere in this crumbling, dark space the sound of machinery can be heard. The creak of metal grinding on metal, the hissing of steam and the low groan of rolling gears. In the centre of this vast,
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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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,
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
I was struggling to identify something, anything, within the icy presence swirling around me. For eight years I had anticipated and feared this day. My eyes were rushing from side to side blindly; I couldn’t focus enough to see. Faster and faster they went, bringing with them my head, my
“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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Everyone hates addressing “the elephant in the room”. The elephant in my room was the loud creaking, shaking and obnoxious moaning above it. As a graduate of biology, I understand the importance of “getting off”. What I failed to understand is why the tenant living above my apartment had to
The Sounds of Love Read More »
I walked up to an old house in shambles. It sits in the middle of a farm in rural Wisconsin. The paint was faded almost entirely off the wood paneling of the two story farm house. There were tinges of light red where the rain and weather had not wiped
Alberto Nujas scrambles out of bed, quickly glancing at the clock. It’s two thirty-two in the morning, but when you gotta go, you gotta go. Alberto closes the bathroom door and locks it before doing his business. Even though he’s a 29-year-old bachelor, old habits die hard. Alberto finishes his
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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
A Horrid Nightmare Read More »
“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
Storm-weathered and Fear-worn Read More »
These. Damn. Chills! I don’t remember when they started, I just remember having them…always having them. They’re the reason why I always wear layers, even in summer. Why I sleep with so many blankets. Why when I’m told to turn the heating down because the temperature of my room rivals
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
