I don’t know whether anyone will ever read this account which I’ve scribbled on loose sheets of paper using a leaking biro pen. I intend to stuff the papers into a sealed bottle and toss it out to sea in the remote hope that it will reach someone who knows …
I am stranded on a desert island far from home. Please send help. Read More »
“…so in conclusion: the classic gray aliens do exist. As a fellow critical thinker, I’m sure you see I’ve made an excellent case,” Maury said, grinning. Things like Maury’s conspiracy theories were one of the reasons I was going on vacation. I needed a break from things like this. I’ve …
To be honest, it was all about delay. Maura was going to Rhode Island School of Design, there had never been any question of that. Goodie still wasn’t sure he wanted to go to University of Boston, but he was. Arnie was going to M. I. T., and I was taking …
May 10thIt’s an island. That’s it! An island. Let’s make something known from the get-go, I’m not here because I want to be, I’m here because I’m fucked. Yup, fucked. That’s me! Good old fucked Roger Garland. What more can I really say? I know this island may be another …
My body floated through space. I was weightless, drifting towards the moon. As I got closer, I began to feel. First normal sensations. Then deep, extreme pain. With a loud crack, my eyes opened. A screaming metal grinding noise twisted my ear drums. The brightness of a glaring full moon …
Some of you may have read “The Lottery” at one point or another, whether it was of your own pleasure or rather a part of your schools curriculum. We don’t read The Lottery here in Edwardsville, we live it. Maybe I could give you a bit of backstory, though I …
The leaves rustled under my boots as we climbed up the hill. I was cold. I was tired. I was bored. I’ll never forget that fateful fall weekend my dad dragged me out hunting. He told me I was ten and it was time I started growing up. Time to …
My mouth was covered by my older brothers’ hand, shallow, panicked breaths escaping between the sweat between the cracks of his fingers. Both of us whimpering underneath our house in the crawlspace. Our sweatpants and Fanshawe t-shirts covered in spider webs, dirt, and blood. I am crying underneath his hand. …
As his aged, wrinkled fingers weaved through the long beard flowing from his face, that noise came again. Only this time, it was louder. There he sat, hunched over the stained oak table that had arrived years ago with no explanation. It had come whilst he slept; absent one night, …
Simon huddled closer to Meredith as the two sat gazing at Manhattan in the distance. A city, once vibrant and full of life, now stood as a mausoleum. Skyscrapers reached toward the darkening sky little more than vacant, black pillars. Deafening silence hung over the deserted streets. Broken cars clogged …
The spring flu had been going around the school like usual, but some people were sicker than normal. They didn’t just have fever and headache – their faces were blotchy, their eyes bulged, and they all wheezed like they’d just run up ten flights of stairs without stopping. Cara McCormack …
I. The snow had stopped about an hour ago, but god damn, it was still a treacherous road. Mark turned up the radio, half to keep himself awake, and half to try to hear the music through the interfering static. The mountains weren’t good for the signal, and even though …
Part 1: Good Will Hunting I’m a producer for Alone, the TV show on History. This story is about a participant we had in season 2, whose footage we had to cut. I’ve never felt comfortable talking about this before, especially because it opens me up for liability. After all, …
I hate scarecrows. I have ever since I was little. I found something about the dolls stuffed with straw unsettling. I remember my parents tried to help me get over this fear by telling me things like, “They’re not scary, they only want to be friends” or some other lame …
I grew up in a tiny town in Vermont. Tiny in terms of population, not size—there were huge sprawling farms and wooded areas, but almost no people. More cows than people, which is standard for a lot of small towns in Vermont. So, clearly, not the most fun in the …
I was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive disorder when I was five. I have always struggled to interact with people because of this disorder, spending large amounts of time attempting to fix imperfections around me. I would lash out harshly at people around me if they touched me or my things, and …
There’s always something inherently eerie about living in the forest, in complete isolation. You almost always assume the worst when you’re on your own surrounded by the thickly wooded area, it’s almost like time doesn’t pass the same as it would anywhere else, like the edge of the woods was …
I had the house to myself, my parents were spending the weekend in Toronto, and I’d spent the day hanging out with my girlfriend. Up until I dropped her off at home later that evening, it was an ordinary day, as close to perfection as possible. I took my girlfriend …
The sound of the car engine coughing and sputtering made my heart sink and my stomach knot. I always had a bad feeling about driving something that was twenty-three years of age. Even though it only had a hundred-thousand miles on it and had gotten me many places, I always …
I’ve decided to write this out in the case that something bad happens to me. I’ve begun to play a dangerous game, and I can’t guarantee that I will come out on top. It all started about a month ago. I work at a small grocery store stocking shelves. I …
Chapter 1 The end was nothing like what scientists had predicted. There were no explosions, no destructive meteors, nor did we parish in a great war between countries; it was as if humanity awoke one day and life as we had known it, was over. My name is Hanit; I …
Let me start by saying that Peter Terry was addicted to heroin. We were friends in college and continued to be after I graduated. Notice that I said “I”. He dropped out after two years of barely cutting it. After I moved out of the dorms and into a small apartment, I didn’t see Peter as much. We would talk online every now and then (AIM was king in pre-Facebook years). There was a period where he wasn’t online for about five weeks straight. I wasn’t worried. He was a pretty notorious flake and drug addict, so I assumed he just stopped caring. Then one night I saw him log on. Before I could initiate a conversation, he sent me a message.
