It was a clear night in a small community near San Francisco, California when a mysterious blue light was seen by several residents as it fell from the sky. The next morning, a none-too-bright man in his early twenties went to check out the field where the strange blue object […]
Working in a nuclear reactor is difficult work, no matter what the task. Even the most menial job, including mine – janitorial services – required rigorous education on emergency procedures, and that we be subjected to frequent training drills, and most tediously, handed flurries of clearance codes and floor plans.
Looking back now, all I can see is his damn face. It looks at me, as I close my eyes. I can see the dripping of the black liquid, as it falls from his eternally-smiling mouth. His teeth are small and sharp and sit in rows, like a shark’s do.
We called it The Deef. It was supposed to be a joke. We had a game, the group of us. It didn’t really have a name. It was just the cryptid game. It was simple: every time we got together, one of us had to share a monster story. That was basically it. We’d started it back in college, and just sort of never stopped. There were more rules than that, of course. It had to be original. No more than one story introduced per get-together. Whoever had the best monster was winning.
I was always close to my uncle, even if I was too young to truly know or understand him. He was a military man for the whole time I knew him and usually told the most batshit crazy stories you could imagine, but they were never exaggerated or made up. He was in Desert Storm and came back telling us about all the things that were over there. We were positive he was making up the part about the camel spiders, but the Brittanica set my grandparents had proved it to be true! He talked about how big they were, how fast, and skin-crawlingly ugly and nightmarish they appeared. He also made sure to mention he’d only really seen them twice.
The hull of the ship moaned and groaned under the strain of its frozen enclave. HMS Stargazer and its crew had initially set out into the deep unknown to map uncharted territories, but winter descended quickly upon them and they found themselves trapped between stars and ice for months. Supplies were running thin and the captain of the ship, a tall and clean shaven gentleman by the name of Gerald Northington, had assembled groups of hunters to venture out in search of seal meat. The most recent hunting expedition had yet to return and Northington was pacing anxiously up and down his quarters.
Between Ice and Stars Read More »
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
I am terrified of sleep – or, more accurately, what occurs when I do. For as long as I can remember I have seen spots when I sleep. More precisely, I see them when I close my eyes to go to sleep. Between the second I start closing my eyes
If You See Spots When You Close Your Eyes, Ignore Them Read More »
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 »
As I entered John Kirowan’s study I was too much engrossed in my own thoughts to notice, at first, the haggard appearance of his visitor, a big, handsome young fellow well known to me. “Hello, Kirowan,” I greeted. “Hello, Gordon. Haven’t seen you for quite a while. How’s Evelyn?” And
The Haunter of the Ring 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.
You needn’t think I’m crazy, Eliot—plenty of others have queerer prejudices than this. Why don’t you laugh at Oliver’s grandfather, who won’t ride in a motor? If I don’t like that damned subway, it’s my own business; and we got here more quickly anyhow in the taxi. We’d have had
Simza stumbled through the dark forest, tripping over indiscernible tree roots in the darkness. She sensed that something was wrong with the baby, and was afraid, but she had no one to confide in. She had wandered away from the camp when she started feeling the sharp pains in her
There’s always something inherently eerie about living in the forest, in complete isolation. You almost always assume the worst when you’re on your own surrounded by the thickly wooded area, it’s almost like time doesn’t pass the same as it would anywhere else, like the edge of the woods was
Bill Tanner, a retired USPS mail carrier, ran a local haunted house that had become quite well known in the city where he lived. Established as a terrifying and fun way to unleash people’s greatest fears upon them, it was aptly named “Tanner’s House of Horrors.” People came from miles
Laughing in the Dark Read More »
I had the house to myself, my parents were spending the weekend in Toronto, and I’d spent the day hanging out with my girlfriend. Up until I dropped her off at home later that evening, it was an ordinary day, as close to perfection as possible. I took my girlfriend
It Watched From the Roof Read More »
Craig Brockwell was found by his wife, dead on their living room floor, a plastic garbage bag tied off around his neck, and an empty bottle of Xanax on the kitchen counter, next to a suicide note. My initial external examination of the body revealed no indications of a physical
The Last Body I Ever Cut Open Read More »
Part 1 I am often asked how it was that I first became interested the true crime genre. It’s the sort of question I frequently get at conventions, book signings, panel meetings, and interviews, but the actual answer is fairly mundane. What I find more interesting is the source of
The Hollows and the Hills Read More »
Did you know that, once introduced to routine, our brains are capable of accepting it to the extent that when something changes, it doesn’t notice? The change could be small and harmless, an object there that wasn’t, or something moved to another room that you would normally duck around on
The Hallway Wasn’t Empty Read More »
It was the year 1992. Peter Ivankov’s life was never the same since then – firstly, because his home country had gone through a massive transformation following the dissolution of the Soviet Union the previous winter. Secondly, 1992 was the year Peter went blind. Early that year, Peter’s mother began
The Devil is in the Details Read More »
We got to the hotel late. The kiddo was a mess, and so was I. I’d let Sally sleep through the flight while I tried to keep our two-year-old girl from having a total meltdown. As the plane started its final descent, my relief was punctured by an absolute nightmare
“With little evidence towards his innocence, he is to be hanged the Monday from next on charges of military treachery and murder…as for the state and whereabouts of Private Oswald Arthur Crane, they are still unknown.” – General George Crook (1877) This is the truth, sir. Flecks of gunpowder and
Cold Wind, Cold Earth Read More »
It was on the wall, right in front of me, over my bed, hung like a painting. It had one limp hand draped, with bony, serpentine fingers, just above the clock, and its skeletal body cast an eerie glow into the dusty haze that had formed around it. I could
