The comment was buried so deep under my latest video that I almost missed it. Try Dimer Ridge. Nobody comes back alone. No likes or replies. Not even a profile picture attached to the account. Just that one sentence sitting underneath a video where I’d spent twenty minutes walking through […]
A book swiftly closed with a loud thump, and I turned around to toss it towards the pile. I stopped for a moment, admiring the never-ending tower of journals that came before it. A thousand pages each, centuries upon centuries of my duties recorded within them, ink slowly fading from
An old truck came wailing through the autumn. The truck had once been white, but years in the rough had degraded the thing into an ugly gradient of browns. Now on the first asphalt in many long miles, the truck serpentined through the cursive country roads of some rolling land
Running from the Devil Read More »
I do not tell this story to people anymore because nobody believes the story about the fire lookout tower. Even the friends who were with me that night at the fire lookout tower refuse to talk about what happened at the fire lookout tower. It is one of those things
The Last Fire Watcher Read More »
The first tooth arrived in the heart of a pear. Years later, whenever Adeline tried to explain everything that had happened, she always found herself returning to that afternoon, though she knew the true beginning might have been much earlier. Perhaps it began in the graveyard behind her grandmother’s house,
The Girl Who Kept Finding Teeth Read More »
Farmer Adams was a grumpy shell of man. He treated anyone who trespassed on his property as hostile enemies. He wasn’t the violent type to pull out a shotgun or pitchfork. His bark was worse than his bite but his bark was powerful. His angry yells traveled miles and his
My friend Johnny and I run our own general contracting company. We specialize in waste removal and general repairs. We have an absolute work horse mentality. No job was too big or too dirty for us. That was until the Morrison farm. The job that left both physical and psychological
Deep in the great woods in England’s heart stands a small village of Eldenmoore. In the 16th century it was ruled by the great Baron Armstrong. He was a tyrant of a man known for little more than cruelty and greed. Few who lived under his rule had kind words
I am certain that my fascination with the gone and forgotten stems from my own fear of impermanence. Leaving something behind when I am gone is of utmost importance to me, so I have dedicated my life to preserving and sharing the legacies and lives of others who have passed.
Mr Conrad’s Final Tale Read More »
‘I need a cab, at Lexington square, Richmond, Virginia,’ the text reads. “Where are you headed?” The reply doesn’t come right away. This is nothing new–not in my job. Sometimes, my fares are not so forthcoming with their destinations–something quite perplexing to me, given that they are requesting my services.
I Drive a Taxi Between the Realms: Entry One: Dering Wood Read More »
My aunt left me her place on Hensel Lake when she died last September. I had visited once as a boy and remembered almost nothing about it, so I drove up alone on a Friday afternoon to see what I had inherited. The road in was a dirt track with
The dying rays of evening bleed across the horizon, leaving behind fleeting kisses as the sun departs until the morrow. In its absence, a vast congregation of trees gathers around us, casting long shadows in their wake-offering a fragile refuge where predator and prey wait in silence. “Mommy? Are we
I’m about to dive into a cave filled with screams of the dead. It’s insane. Even after the complete upheaval of everything I thought possible, the most pressing thing on my mind are two words: I told you. She’s going to hate reading this, but that’s why I’m doing it.
I’ve been a police officer for a long time, and there are certain things you learn to ignore if you want to sleep at night. This is not one of those things. I’m writing this anonymously because I was involved in a case back in 2019, and despite everything we
Grandma’s Footsteps Read More »
I don’t know what I saw in that damn chapel. I don’t even know if it was real or not. I sure as hell hope not. So, I came here to tell my story. Maybe someone could help me. Maybe just telling it will make me feel better – help
I was pedaling as hard as I could, the tires thumping on each new slab of wood on the railway track. The railway was a clear cut through the woods, separating a once thriving forest into two distinct parts. Though summer break had only started a week ago, we already
Music in the Branches Read More »
You ever have a memory you wish ya could just burn out of ya skull? A memory that pops up every now & again and when it does all the same damn feelings come flooding back? One of those memories that make you sick to ya stomach? one that feels
I wish I could forget… The house across the field Read More »
It was a rainy Saturday morning, and I could hear the rain tapping against my window. I looked up from my laptop and let out a soft sigh. The sound was somewhat annoying, yet also oddly soothing, and I thought it might help me focus on the history essay I
The fishing boat groaned under Raj’s boots as he tossed another net overboard. His hands were cracked from salt and years of hauling lines, but he didn’t complain. Out here, complaints sank faster than the bait. “Check this,” his friend Arjun muttered, nudging him with an elbow. He held up
Heather found herself in bed, unable to move a muscle—trying her hardest to shift her arm and wake her husband sleeping next to her, but to no avail. She was in sleep paralysis—a phenomenon she’d read about but never experienced until then. It frightened her to lie there helpless, but
“Why does a writer write? Because they must.” -Anton Richards These words have been repeating in my head for the last week. They pound in my brain like a jackhammer. They prevent my mind from resting and keep me awake at night. That is why I am here at 3am.
The Curse Of Imagination Read More »
My doctor gave me this journal to tell my story, since it’s easier to write it than to speak it. Dr. Henley says the act of writing might help me process what happened, might help me find some semblance of peace in this sterile white hell they call treatment. And
I haven’t slept properly in half a year.Not since the night they carried Mrs. Ellery’s body out of her apartment in a zipped black bag. She lived alone.She was quiet.Sometimes she baked too much bread and left warm slices at my door.And sometimes, late at night, she screamed. Everyone in
My Neighbour Keeps Screaming At Night. She’s Been Dead for 6 Months. Read More »
There were rules in our house that no one ever had to say out loud. Don’t speak when he’s drinking.Don’t look at her when she’s disappointed.Don’t cry where anyone can hear you.Don’t be noticed. Don’t be loud. Don’t be a problem. Silence kept us alive. It was the kind of
He Said He Would Protect Me Read More »
