Clang. My eyes snap open. Was I asleep? It’s impossible to tell. The darkness around me has blurred the line between my waking and sleeping states, and I can no longer quite distinguish between dreams and reality, but it doesn’t make a difference. It’s all a nightmare. I hear the
My son Michael is all I have left. But in a lot of ways I’m lucky, because he’s all I need. He’s such a good boy. He takes care of me, looks after the house and manages to keep his grades up at college. I’m so lucky and so, so
They weave a slow andante as in sleep. Scaled yellow, swampy black, plague-spotted white; with blue and lidless eyes at a watch, they keep a treachery of silence, infinite. – Arthur Symons There was no other way to describe this. Perilous, hopeless, just a pit of darkness, there was no
I have changed all names, except for my own, to keep everyone anonymous. The year was probably 2012 when this started? I’m not totally sure I guess. Before I start this, I will say that I never really remember what was said in conversations. I normally just remember what happened,
I suffer from short term memory loss, or at least I think I do. See, STML isn’t exactly how it’s portrayed in the movies. No, I don’t go to bed at night and wake up the next day having completely forgotten the events of the day prior. For me, it’s
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Life is supposed to be better after graduation. You’re walk across that stage, grab your diploma, and then you are welcomed into the real world with open arms. All those parties, all the cheering, all the gifts, all the congratulations you get, it’s all supposed to represent the new world
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It was July 2011 when the Polk County Rocks game spread to my area. People were painting up rocks, hiding them around and posting photos to the Facebook group set up for it. Essentially this was a big Easter egg hunt that was reaching everywhere from Lakeland to Arbuckle, with
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Lightning flashed overhead as I picked myself up off the ground. Wondering where I was and how I ended up there, I examined the shapes and shadows that littered my view. The dark sky made my vision near obsolete, but my eyes slowly adjusted to the absence of light, and
I am fully aware of how unbelievable the events I am about to describe to you are. From your point of view I would not believe them either. I would think of them as a work of fiction from that of a creative mind, but knowing what I have seen,
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT “Huh?” I jerked up as my cell phone buzzed loudly, emitting an insultingly bright light. I rubbed my face and winced as I slapped at the screen in a half-ditch effort to shut the damn thing off. There was a muted thump as my hand brushed the edge of
After World War II, there were rumors of a weird occurrence that plagued Europe. Stories like this were buried and kept a secret to prevent a worldwide panic by the United Nations. Journals were frisked when a deployed individual was about to be sent home, and if they contained any
Apparently everyone is in on the joke or I’ve been living under a rock so I’m sorry if any of this is redundant but I have to reach out because things have gotten really out of hand. I think the first time I encountered Mr. Strangeteeth was the day I
Paranoia can affect anyone, some more than others. For some, it’s disabling, and others it’s just an inconvenience. Sara wasn’t sure where she fell on this spectrum, but she knew she was on it. Or was she? Was she actually paranoid or just being realistic? She couldn’t figure out which
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Part 1 Tess stood at the mirror applying her eyeliner. It was Saturday night and, although she didn’t officially have any plans, she was sure that, at any moment, she would get a call inviting her to go out somewhere. She stepped away from the mirror suddenly, evaluating her work.
July 7th 1864 I am writing this letter under appreciable strain. It is to be, by this night’s end, that I shall be no more. Penniless and at a loss of the drug which once kept my temperament secure, I shall cast myself from my squalid room and onto the
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The following is a true story with real people and real media attention. I am going to try to be vague in areas which would expose my identity, but if you are able to figure out who I am I ask that you please respect my privacy and not try
My name is Georgina Adams. I’m twenty-eight years old. In February, I’ll be twenty-nine. I live alone in a spacious apartment in Rouen. I am perfect. But I haven’t always been so. When I was a child, I lived in a little town in England called Selsey. I was called
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“The Old Gods are Still Here…” In a pink sky, the sun was the color of bad blood. It was ascending now, reborn. It took no notice of the screams, and neither did any other stars. They were as indifferent to this as they were to rape and the fall
Interstellar Colony Collective Government File Colony Failure Assessment Report Document 647 Report Date: 30th of May, 2374, 02:47 ET Reported by: CFA Basic Data Collector Salma Chakroun Information Status: CLASSIFIED – SUPERIOR OFFICERS ONLY Report: I have been active duty for 4 years and have completed 23 failure assessment missions,
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They say you are never alone. They say you are always watched. They say the darkest corners are inhabited by your worst fears. My parents were always drunk, abusive, and just terrible in general. Around the time of my 6th birthday, my father had been arrested for attempted manslaughter. Around
The universe as we know it is understood by the various laws of physics and our understanding changes gradually as time goes on. Understandings change when there is new evidence or theories being confirmed. This is the universe we live in. It’s largely theorized that there may be other universes
Omnia cum pretio. Latin. “Everything at a price.” This is inscribed on a golden plaque inside the box. I feel I should have considered this phrase more carefully, and would if I had the chance again. My name is Vincent, and this is my suicide note. I’m not writing this
I didn’t feel like speaking to anyone. I spent most of the day in my room trying to relax by watching my favorite comedy movies. When that failed, I tried playing Counterstrike on my computer. That also failed. I simply couldn’t stop thinking about my twin sister, Lisa, who had
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I live in the northern half of Georgia, which to those who are unaware, is full of hill country and mountains. The Appalachian trail starts in North Georgia, as do many of the tributaries that feed our major rivers. Around 100 years ago, as electricity became a more common fixture
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