Way Down
My parents have gone away for a few weeks so I have to look after the house, and since they can’t find a kennel that will take our dog I have to care for her, too. I don’t mind. It’s the least I can do for them after they agreed […]
Disappearance
The Lurker
These posts were taken directly from a blog that got removed shortly after the last upload. Archived text below. HeyWarren – Posted 2/27/19 9:23pmMy Roommate Is Missing – Entry #1 Not really sure how to start this. So, I guess I’ll just try to start from the beginning. My name
I Found an Old Message from My Brother. I’m An Only Child.
Dear Ben,This will be the last thing I ever send you. I don’t even know if you’ll remember who I am by the time you read this. For your sake I hope you don’t. For my sake, and for everything I’ve lost, I had to write you this story. One
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Gamble
As the sun sets in the distance, dark clouds hang in the sky above, absorbing the last glimmer of daylight. Ben, a middle-aged man with tired eyes and a thin beard, stares through the windscreen of his small, worn-down car while he waits at the traffic lights. He thinks about
The Unanswered Doorbell: A Halloween Nightmare
The sound of the doorbell echoed through my empty house like a banshee’s wail. It was Halloween night, and I was alone. Not by choice, but because it was my ex’s turn to take our kids, Lily and Ben, trick-or-treating. The custody agreement was part of the divorce proceedings. Though
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Lawrence Clement and the Ferguson Room
The following has been pieced together from primary and secondary sources found across Los Angeles County and elsewhere in California: Lawrence Clement (1870 – 1913) was a second-generation immigrant of France to the United States, and the subject of a rather interesting tale about photography. He was the quintessential underappreciated
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The Hanging Tree
The ball flew towards the boy. With a cry of alarm, the boy dropped to the floor. “Damnit Jimmy, you’re supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried. A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher’s mound to
The Ladies of the Mist
It began with the disappearance of Edwin Huntington, a pimply, bookish boy, whose only notable feature, if gossip held true, was his last name. He was sixteen years old and until that day showed no promise in any ventures, commercial or academic, even despite the plentiful assistance from his own
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…And We’re Back
Yesterday… …And we’re back in five… four… three… two… one… [talk-show host] Greg, tell us your thoughts about the movie; the release is only three days after the anniversary of your wife’s death. How are you coping? Do you plan to go see it? I’m not here to talk about
Family Roots
Grandpa Cobalt hated letting things go. Whether it was the wobbly chair he kept in his study or his favorite warped record he fed to the gramophone—looping the same groove over and over. He was a tall man with a frosty thin hairline and a nose capable of the most
Confessions Of A Fisherman In A Town Called Langurst
Langurst is a small place, quaint and quiet. A seaside village which I’d never seen the outside of. The comforting sound of the salt waves breaking against rock was seldom disturbed by the modern hardships one might find inland, Langurst was a bit behind the times you could say, traditional
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In The Still Of The Night
If you were to ask any teenager, in the year 1956 on a Friday night in the small town of Waderton California; where is the coolest and most popular place to be in town? Then your best and most likely answer would be the Still Ridge lookout point up on
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A Mist Between Blue & Gray
The one thing I know, perhaps the last thing I know to be true, is that there is a very fine mist between one dimension and the next. And crossing that mist is never good. Because even a shift in the smallest detail offers magnitudes of misfortune. – “Because hard
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Did you hear the Ice Cream Man last night?
I used to think of Hell as a faraway place. For those of you out there who still hold that belief, this piece of my life is for you. Don’t ask me why I’m doing this; I’m honestly not sure. My therapist says writing about our traumas can help our
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I Investigate Disturbing Cases: Here Are My Stories – The Woman
They say that everyone has a case that haunts them. Personally, if it’s just one case, then clearly, whoever “they” are isn’t doing very good police work. Being a detective is gritty and bleak. You aren’t dealing with happy endings, you’re dealing with the cold hard truth. Sure, every now
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