I’ve been an investigator and hunter of the paranormal for longer than I care to remember. Studying lore, protecting the innocent, and destroying malicious entities are just a few of the job’s many requirements. In my younger years, training day-in and day-out with my uncle, I thought we were heroes […]
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Room 371. Some hotel near the Cape. I was on a business trip with my boss, closing in on the final set of investors we needed to launch our latest start-up. That’s all I could remember. Then this. Waking up in a bedroom next to an unfamiliar woman with a
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“Alright, Jack. Are you ready?” After being strapped down by the orderlies, an older gentleman with a white coat stepped over and looked down at me as my back caressed the cold, metal slab I was fastened to. I presumed this was Doctor Covenwood, the lab’s head of operations. “Uhhh…
The room was one of many. Experiments that allowed us to tamper with the fabric of space-time in an enclosed location; to toy with the delicate laws of our physical world and fine-tune them to our liking. The first three hundred and seventy went off without a hitch. Some of
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I don’t work for NASA. I’m a lowly office tech at a company affiliated with NASA. We store data off-site mostly concerning their many, secret unmanned missions to the moon, including the countless ones that took place in between the Apollo launches. There are regular landings, even today. As you
I was in a room. It looked like the ground floor of an office building. There was a desk with a receptionist, tapping away at a keyboard, and stairs leading up to the next floor. But the design… it was all white. I had to turn away at first, blinded
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Business trips are dreadfully boring, especially in my line of work. The only good thing about them? Hotels. The tedium of day-to-day dealings bookended with clean towels and a mint on my pillow. If I could live in one, I surely would. There’s just something in the ambiance that soothes
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I stood still for a moment, awestruck. The pictures didn’t do it justice. It was a large but quaint home located on a secluded island near Cape Cod. A small piece of land void of life; only the cottage and a lighthouse visible across the water. Verified as an AirBnB
I was referred by a temp agency. I had no idea who I would be working for, or what the job would entail. I only knew that the pay was good. A week-long excursion at $725 a night. More than enough to pay off a couple of credit card bills
It had been wracking my brain for months. What exactly did he keep in there? Why was he being so secretive? Even when I was younger, my father was more than happy to share his work with me at the dinner table. I listened intently, fascinated by the projects his
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