Godless Acres
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
supernatural
Music in the Branches
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
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I wish I could forget… The house across the field
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
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Prophetic Pages
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 Indian Giant
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
The Remains
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
The Curse Of Imagination
“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.
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October, 1973
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
My Neighbour Keeps Screaming At Night. She’s Been Dead for 6 Months.
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
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He Said He Would Protect Me
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
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The Astronomer’s Painting
If you’re reading this, you know what sorry state you have found me in. I pass on my condolences for whatever trauma I may have predisposed upon you, and it is with my deepest sympathies; for it is a fate that we shall undoubtedly come to share in kindred. However,
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The Last Channel
My grandmother died at 3:33 AM on a Tuesday, and her TV wouldn’t turn off. Not wouldn’t—couldn’t. We unplugged it. We cut the power to her room. We even took a hammer to the screen, but it kept playing, the jagged cracks creating a kaleidoscope of images that shouldn’t exist.
The Static Man
I always thought the old TV in my grandmother’s attic was broken. It would never receive channels, only emit a hiss of static when you tried turning the dial. But last December, I discovered it wasn’t broken after all. The first time I ever laid eyes on him, I figured
I was Hired for the Weekend Nights Charge Nurse Position. It Came with a Strange Set of Rules.
I solemnly pledge myself before God and in the presence of this assembly to pass my life in purity and to practice my profession faithfully. I will abstain from whatever is deleterious and mischievous and will not take or knowingly administer any harmful drug. I will do all in my
The Black Sarcophagus
The following are a collection of journals and reports pertaining to a series of strange and tragic occurrences befalling the Carter Archaeology Institute. Journal of Arnold Higgins, Archaeologist: July 7th, 2025 Today is a major day for our beloved Institute. We recently translated an ancient journal of an Egyptian royal
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Ravenous
I remember the events that happened to us on the 1st of October in a small Oregon town as if it were only yesterday. Zoe, our twelve-year-old daughter, was playing outside in the backyard. The leaves of the trees had started to fall, creating a blanket of yellow and brown
Creatures From The Tree Line
On a night of fun, full of laughter and colorful lights, Aaron and his girlfriend, Anna, walk through all the displays at the circus. Their best friend, Brandon, was tagging along and being the comedian of the trio. The autumn air carries the scent of caramel apples and cotton candy,
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We boarded a Ferry, Please Help Us
Hello there, I managed to scrounge up a pile of power banks left behind by previous passengers. In total, these could last me a combined 47 hours worth of laptop battery perhaps more if I used them sparingly. I will try to be quick, so the spent battery is not
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She Still Burns
When Jacob Housley turned up dead, it didn’t take long for me to hear about it. Just about everyone knew everyone, back in the old town, and I was more than familiar with the Housleys. Well, I used to be, anyway. Jacob was one of my fathers closest friends–almost an
Day Of Absolution
Read part one here This is Inspector Arthur Knight and the truth is I do not know why I am writing this. Perhaps it is the long trained need to document everything, perhaps it is for some greater reason. All I know is I know I need to get this
Spiral Bound
I used to draw spirals in the margins of my notebooks when I was a kid. I don’t know why. They made me feel calm, like if I just kept the line turning, nothing bad could happen. Sometimes I’d go through an entire page without lifting my pen just loops
Mistress Inviere
I remember my grade 11 English teacher once said that death was the greatest mystery of life. We don’t know what exists on the other side of the curtain of life but we have spent eternities trying to figure it out. For me it was never much of a mystery.
Rise of Vengeance
Authors Note: This story serves as the final chapter of the Northridge saga including: Village in the Shadows, Return to Northridge, The Awoken Dead and Traveler in the Dark. While I feel this story functions as a stand alone story, to get the full experience I do recommend reading the
Children Of The Sacred Gate
My name is Brother Arthro but I am told that I no longer need to use that name if I wish. I am to understand that my childhood has been anything but ordinary; however in this strange world of colored lights and deafening noise I no longer know what is
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