The Brothers of Drane was a Canadian-American commune, gang, and cult that was active in the northeastern regions of the United States and southern Canada, particularly New Brunswick and Nova Scotia, in the early-late 1990’s. Led by Wolfville native Warren Drane, who occasionally used the alias of “Coda”, they lived …
“Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” ― Bram Stoker, Dracula As if a mad carnival rolled into town, the leaf-strewn street of the quaint picturesque village seemed to transform overnight in ghoulish metamorphosis into a riotous necropolis with skulls grinning and witches cackling at …
My grandfather was a deeply religious man. He never missed a service, and he always proved to be a beacon of everything his faith stood for. He seemed like a walking image of what one of the apostles was supposed to be. He had the look and actions of a …
I stared into the mirror, watching myself closely. “Could I be imagining it?” I thought to myself. No, no way. I repositioned, watching every movement of my reflection carefully. It matched me perfectly, nothing was off-center. The slight wrinkles in my shirt, the subtle twitch of my eye as I …
I found a journal with the world’s secret inside… we’re our own worst enemy. Read More »
Read Part one here It was gearing up to be a long night. The place was packed two-deep with thirsty patrons, and our barback was nowhere in sight. I wouldn’t know it until hours later, but he had quit out of the blue, leaving me to manage the tides myself. …
One last crimson heart. That’s all there was. John stood in the storage closet-like room, barely breathing. The only light was a sliver from the hallway and a flickering incandescent bulb strung up in the center of the room. Directly under the fleeting yellow light sat a green box atop …
When Matt originally proposed the idea, I thought he was joking. Crash a wedding? Like in the movies? Pull a Vince Vaughn? I loved the idea, but the thought of actually sneaking into a random wedding to pick up chicks, well… it just wasn’t possible. Someone would realize we didn’t …
I remember living on the streets, that I remember. Exactly how that came to be is still unclear, but I know that one way or another it was because of my parents. I hated them, hate them still with the little memory of them I have left. Flashes of pure …
I live in a small, but lively town in Massachusetts. Its local legends have fueled my love affair with the paranormal. It’s a subject that fascinates me to this day. Coupled with insomnia, this passion led me to spend many a night at the nearby cemetery, hoping to see a …
“Purgatory on Earth” read the flyer as it flapped unevenly in the wind, poorly stapled against the wooden post of a power line. It was an interesting title, not exactly the alluring intro phrase most religious recruitment ads used. For what I knew of Purgatory, it wasn’t exactly a place …
At first, I didn’t think anything of it. My neighbor would stop to chat with me, leash in hand, and I would catch glimpses of the metal slider dangling from its belly. I assumed it was wearing a piece of pet clothing, or that perhaps it was the byproduct of …
I’m a student at Bridgewater State in Massachusetts. I share a dorm with my roommate, Wallace. We both major in computer science, and that’s all we’ve ever talked about on the rare occasions that we actually speak to one another. We don’t have much else in the way of common …
I am here to discuss my experiences with a band, known as Vantablack. They are a progressive death metal band, based in my hometown of Battered Grove – a small, but lively, town in New England. The band consists of five members: a drummer, two guitarists, a bassist, and a …
There I was, sweating in my uncomfortable seat, surrounded by the sounds of obnoxious unsynchronized clapping. Todd Howard had just made his usual appearance on the annual E3 gaming expo stage. The crowd was anxious, awaiting their anticipated announcements, ready to possibly be disappointed. Myself? I wasn’t …
The following article was sent by journalist Roberto Costa Campos, expert in criminal investigation, for the writing of “Na Hora”, a tabloid newspaper in São Paulo. Roberto was known for his daring and his lack of fear in investigating anything, often going into extremely dangerous situations simply to gather information. …
My husband is dying. Despite his good prognosis after the accident, he gets weaker every day. When he became unable to even say my name, I got desperate. I posted details of his condition on every forum I could find. Medical, accident survivors… I even posted it on a sketchy …
To whom it may concern, my name is Michael Dean Fox. I’m writing this as a step by step reenactment of the cold winter night I had spent in the back country of East Tennessee. Some of the things I am about to tell you are not going to sound …
The summer that I was eighteen, I was trying to find something bigger than myself. I was a dumb kid, but dumb in the sense that I didn’t understand when I was in too deep. Ask me anything about literary devices in storytelling, and I could write you a thesis …
Chapter VI I had managed to find the dark place described in the journals. It was apparent that I was not looking hard enough during my first few perusals of Kathryn’s entries, because all of the clues were there. My greatest mistake was in assuming that the only important sections …
