Yvangela
Yvangela raised herself slowly from her bed, still covered in heavy blankets, after a sudden, excruciating pain in her head disturbed her from her deep sleep. She knew exactly what this meant.
ghosts
Ghastly Warnings
December 23, 1975 Brookfield, Montana 1 AM To John, it didn’t seem as if it was going to get colder. But to his dismay, it did. The temperature on the train he rode on stated it was 45 degrees, even with the heaters. The train with its beautiful Christmas decorations
11 Rules for Idiots Who Bought a Haunted House
Well you really screwed up this time, didn’t you? You found a gnarly deal on a beautiful home that almost seemed too good to be true, and you jumped at it. And now that you’re all moved in, you’ve started to notice some anomalies. You know the type: the spooky-dooky
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The First Day of School
My father is a construction manager and because of his career, we have to move around the country every few years. In my 15 years, I have lived in six different states: New Mexico, Illinois, Minnesota, Colorado, Louisiana, and now Kansas. This past summer, my father was hired to work
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Eastgate
In the spring of 1953, when I was nine years old I saw my brother die. I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. The memory has never left me and it never will. Part of it is the trauma, the slow, insidious realization that he was gone, that crept into my life afterward. But there is more to it that I don’t talk about. I’ve held onto it for years, and I don’t want to hold onto it any longer.
Raymond’s Will
Hello. My name is Raymond Daws. This recording should be considered my last will and testament. It is intended for whomever takes possession of this house at 12874 N. Pryor Road. After setting aside some money for family and other concerns, I should have approximately three hundred thousand dollars left
Buyer’s Remorse
When I saw the car for sale on Craigslist, I was shocked. Not only was it a good price, decent shape, and reliable brand – but it was custom built for someone who didn’t have legs! Both of my legs had to be amputated due to a childhood illness. Obviously,
How To Break a Bad Habit
When I was in college, I developed a bad habit. No, not alcohol or drugs, something far tamer than those. I developed a habit of sleeping in class. You see, it seemed as though every class I had fell right after a meal: breakfast, then comp sci, lunch, then general
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Unfinished Business
I live in a country where, unfortunately, Halloween is not a big thing. It’s almost not a thing at all, and this fact disappoints me to no end. I’m a bored 19-year-old living in a small town where everyone I know still acts like they did when they were 14.
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Projection
Too many sages and soothsayers to reference, those thoughtful idiots, have lambasted the youth with the wizardry of profundity. They had answers to the esoteric. Of Life. Of Death. Of the end. Who are they? What do they really know of the darkness? What do they fancy as truth or
The Ones Who Sleep Alone
During my junior year of college, I was on a bit of a bender. My high school girlfriend finally called it quits for the third time and the lure of the one night stand caught in the sweaty mist of beer and perfume was too much for my angry brain
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Late Night Pizza
It was ten minutes till close when I heard the door swing open. Jingle-jingle. Ugh. A customer this late? It was my first day at Tony’s Pizzeria, and I was eager to get home. My manager, Mason, had to leave early – his infant son had a fever – and I
The Rattling Coin
The Commuter, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, commutes to the office each morning on the Tube. He enters Baker Street station at around 7am every weekday, and catches the southbound train towards Canary Wharf on the Jubilee Line. The station is generally not very busy at
Yellow Ledbetter
The land beyond the bridge had been in my family for generations, forty-four acres of farmland. My father was as rooted to it as the oak tree in our front yard. Although he was sympathetic to my plight, he was certainly not going to move just because his daughter’s college
Drive
Driving down the road far from home, on my way back from work – I’m surrounded by pastures and rural country houses. Late in the night, dark but backlit by a pale moon I drive fast, but not too fast. I’m tired. The day’s work has pushed me over the
Milk Carton Kid
“So why are you here?” she asked. Pretty standard opening for a psychologist sitting down with a patient for the first time. She was young, pretty and Shahrokh (an unnecessarily ethnic name) immediately felt comfortable in her presence. “Well, before I launch into what’s been happening recently I think I’d
Renaud Herbert Hansen
Mr. Hansen’s body was interred in a stately mausoleum of his own design years ago, and yet he still works for us. I’m forced to interview with the remains of the sad dotard almost daily. The world honors Hansen for his invention of countless beloved animated characters, and it’s that
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Kode
A spectral woman stood in socks and sandals upon a stone overlooking a gentle brook, red dawn lips reflected in her silvery flute. I had lost something. Something crucial. Why was I here? Her melody, yes. Like warm honey to the ears. My legs ached and my head throbbed. Rest.
Mr. Ghost
In the spring of 1953, when I was nine years old I saw my brother die. I’ll remember that day for the rest of my life. The memory has never left me and it never will. Part of it is the trauma, the slow, insidious realization that he was gone, that crept into my life afterward. But there is more to it that I don’t talk about. I’ve held onto it for years, and I don’t want to hold onto it any longer.
Whistling
When people whistle, it kind of irritates me. Not like Axl Rose from “Patience” whistles, but just does so to pass the time. When people whistle or hum to themselves it’s always just kind of grated on me, but only when it’s been tuneless. When there’s a tune to it, a melody, it doesn’t get on my nerves, it just makes me… unsettled.
Witness
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
Henry
The rain beat a steady rhythm on the asphalt. In the dark sky above, the rumble of distant thunder rolled slowly toward us. “Daniel.” The sound of my name pulled me from my reverie. I turned my head away from the drenched playground and toward Miss Wasson. “Are you with
The Signal-Man
“Halloa! Below there!” When he heard a voice thus calling to him, he was standing at the door of his box, with a flag in his hand, furled round its short pole. One would have thought, considering the nature of the ground, that he could not have doubted from what
Crash Hand
There wasn’t much about 2015 that didn’t completely suck. My marriage was falling to pieces. My spouse had grown cold and indifferent. Our son hadn’t been diagnosed with autism yet. He was still a toddler. But, we knew there was something off about him. We knew something was wrong. By