On an early dim morning an elderly woman rested her hand atop a gravestone. “Henry Blackwood-1938-2004.” She rested flowers on it and wept, something she didn’t usually do. She always made sure to bring something of Henry’s when she made her annual visit to his grave. Her memory wasn’t what […]
A Trip to the Cemetary Read More »
My mother always told me to eat my greens. Like most I was a fussy and picky child and didn’t want anything to do with the disgusting looking mass of otherworldly slime that she slopped onto my plate every meal. Give me meat, give me dinner rolls, anything but that!
In the darkness we are strangers to ourselves, gray-skinned, white-eyed and black-haired demons rather than the usual familiar streaks of color that we see in a lighted mirror. Our grayscale faces are as blank as that of Slenderman’s, our hearts as black as a killer’s, and there’s not a thing
Everyone knows me, No one knows my name, I am well liked, but not close to fame, My heart was broken, and I died in the rain, I became a ghost, Sid was my name, That night I walked to school, I climbed to the top, I had to do
The Grounds Keeper’s Shed Read More »
You know how it goes. When you were a child, your favourite thing was your music box. It would play a soothing yet haunting melody that lulled you to sleep, or provided background noise for playtime. You had it for years. You loved it, cherished it. You brought it everywhere.
The sweet old lady rocks rhythmically in her recliner. Her head nods often in approval as she agrees wholeheartedly with her favorite evangelist late this evening. This has been Mrs. Weatherford’s routine every night since her late husband left her alone and vulnerable. The preacher is hitting his groove on
You’ve always had a slightly ridiculous phobia of mirrors. It’s never interfered with your life before, except in small and completely inconsequential ways. You’d close your eyes during a middle school session of Bloody Mary, would rush past them in a dark hallway, things any red blooded American raised on
All Monsters are Human Read More »
After my parent’s divorce, and for too many years after, my twin sister Ginny would wake me up unexpectedly in the middle of the night. Her demeanor would always be frightened and scared when she did. It always reminded me of when we were kids and she would escape to
The Popcorn Ceiling Read More »
“Youth is wasted on the young.” – George Bernard Shaw The old, hate-filled woman had been staring at the bathtub for a whole 15 minutes until she was entirely satisfied that it was dead. Taking her gangrenous black foot from the back of its head, it rose slowly to the
This month, we’re breaking the discussion post pattern. I knew that I wanted to ask something about Halloween, but I was having a hard time settling on the topic. So I’m going to take the easy road out and make this month’s post a place for all-encompassing Halloween chatter. After
October 2013 Discussion Post: Halloween! Read More »
Okay, I know I had an announcement here about how this gallery functions, but apparently that part of the draft got eaten before it published. Thanks, WordPress. Love you too. Anyhow, for those of you who can’t figure it out without help – when you click an image, it takes
“Daddy, why do they hate us?” “Oh sweetie, it may seem like they hate us but really it is more like they chose us.” “But Daddy, I didn’t want to be picked!” “Neither did I pumpkin, but unfortunately it is the will of greater men and a greater God. This
Lessons From the Shadows of Hiroshima Read More »
She lay still in the darkness, not daring to make a single sound. For hours she had lay awake in her pitch black room, shivering with terror. She held herself tightly as to not ruffle the sheets which she griped with vise-like strength. She chewed on her tongue as to
It was 4:03 in the morning and I woke up screaming. It was my dream. In my dream, I watched everyone I ever knew or loved be killed by the creature. It had a short fat body, and long slender arms, which ended with claws that looked more like swords
Almost everyone has had a moment of déjà vu. Going about your business, you travel to school or work, or are simply strolling through the place you call home when something catches your attention. You’re sure you’ve seen it before yet you’re unable to recall when or where. You dismiss
When I was a child my father owned a janitorial company that worked almost every night at our local Showbiz Pizza Place/Chuck E. Cheese’s. He would often bring me to work with him so I could play all of the arcade games without having to wait in line. He’d even
Where A Kid Can Be A Kid Read More »
My sister always screams in the middle of the night. Horrible, blood-curdling screams. And I cannot get her to stop. I lie in my bed, away from the earth, dreaming in mist, and her screams penetrate them. She cries for me, she cries for someone. I cannot help her, nothing
No one knew the secret spot where we as children played at night. The ashen moon, our only light, would greet us painted on the pond. The placid water, cool and black, would wash away the summer heat. The silty ground, cooler still, was soft and lumpy underfoot. Seaweed danced
It is estimated that at any given moment, somewhere between 5 and 10 percent of what is in your field of sight is shadow. Darkness. Isolation. The Unknown. Imagine how it would be to live in these stagnated, dreary parts? In that crevice between the bookshelf and the wall, that
I’ve mentioned it here and there, but I like listening to paranormal podcasts or radio shows. I’ve mentioned Anything Ghost with Lex Wahl and Welcome to Nightvale before, and while the main show has gotten a bit too New Agey for my tastes, I still listen to Coast 2 Coast
August 2013 Discussion Post: Paranormal Podcasts & Creepy Radio Shows! Read More »
Take a look around and observe your surroundings. Where are you right now? Are you sitting inside of a dark room? Is there anyone else with you? Are you all alone? Most sources indicate that a majority people read tales of horror by themselves. Something about this genre and medium
Don’t look up at the mirror. You know how that always goes. They look up at the mirror and it’s right there behind them. Just stare down and turn the sink handle. Reach over for the towel. No, whatever you just felt isn’t there, bring your hand back, you don’t
“Look at it go, sweetie!” the loving father joyfully called out to his little girl, pointing upward toward the kite flying high above the secluded beach. “Here baby, you try.” The little girl stood there shy, timid and melancholy as she stared skyward at the pale, flapping kite. This particular
The tipper tapper of a finger echoes through the small dark room. Sometimes even whispers bounce off the walls from other rooms, whispers that do not make sense to me. I would hear things like, “Stop it, he’ll see us” and “Quickly, don’t trust him” or just the moans of
