Christmas has always been a hard time for me. Childhood memories of bickering relatives, drunken tirades, and hostile dinner conversations made me wince at the mere mention of the holiday. In the Christmas of 1989, I broke my collarbone on my new toboggan. In the Christmas of 1997, my brother […]
The day I found my first hole was the day my best friend came back from the dead. We were in high school and stupid. Jake was his name and we liked to go out to this old abandoned house in the woods after school to just screw around. We
I never liked going to my aunt Paola’s house. Honestly, I never liked her either. She’s a creepy bible-thumping Jesus fanatic and she’d always circle over me like a vulture. But none of that creeped me out like her house did. It was old, run-down and filled with weird religious
For as long as I can remember, there has been a man in my bedroom window. It seems strange to say, I know, but it is true. From the earliest, fuzziest memories I have all the way up to now, he’s been there. Looking at me. In my first memories
The Man In My Bedroom Window Read More »
I’ve had this problem for as long as I can remember. In preschool, I remember being confused when they told us there were seven days in a week, because I could only ever count six. I’ve never told anyone this, not even my wife, so I’ve never really been able
I Don’t Experience Thursdays Read More »
I enjoy running quite a bit. It might come off as a bit odd to say, but it really is important to me. I found my love for it back in high school, when I ended up drifting aimlessly onto the cross country track teams. Joining was less of an
Biting At My Heels Read More »
Has anyone else seen the post yet? The guy messages someone whose phone number is identical to his apart from the last digit, which is either one number up or down. I scrolled past it like any other post you see on the internet, gave it a quick chuckle and
Never Meet your Number Neighbor Read More »
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
The Thing That Will Kill Me Read More »
The top half of Councilman Jones’ body hung by a steel cable looped around his neck and tied off to an old oak tree on one end. It was still dripping blood, bones and veins and torn bits of intestines dangling down where the legs should start. The cable was stretched through the air, over to an ash tree ten yards away from where the other half of the body was hanging by the legs.
11 Bodies Hanging From 21 Trees Read More »
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
Addiction took our mother slowly, rocked her through it and sung her to sleep sunk deep into the mattress on her bed. When her back teeth fell out, she left them on the side of the bathtub. I was seven, and I kept them in a matchbox, the missing pieces
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
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
It Watched From the Roof Read More »
Craig Brockwell was found by his wife, dead on their living room floor, a plastic garbage bag tied off around his neck, and an empty bottle of Xanax on the kitchen counter, next to a suicide note. My initial external examination of the body revealed no indications of a physical
The Last Body I Ever Cut Open Read More »
Did you know that, once introduced to routine, our brains are capable of accepting it to the extent that when something changes, it doesn’t notice? The change could be small and harmless, an object there that wasn’t, or something moved to another room that you would normally duck around on
The Hallway Wasn’t Empty Read More »
It was on the wall, right in front of me, over my bed, hung like a painting. It had one limp hand draped, with bony, serpentine fingers, just above the clock, and its skeletal body cast an eerie glow into the dusty haze that had formed around it. I could
Part 1 In 1997, my friend (who we’ll call Chris) moved across state. At that time, we were 10, we didn’t really have much of a way to see each other besides getting a ride by our parents to one or the other’s house, which would be a hassle for
I think I’m finally at the point where I’m able to talk about it. It’s been several years since it happened. None of us – not me, nor my friend, brother, or brother’s friend, who also experienced it – have ever told a living soul, and rarely mention it to
The Mannequin Farm Read More »
The subjects awoke in what looked to be a huge room With large mirrors on the walls above. The concrete walls and floor were painted white, very recently too As some parts were still drying. All three were dressed in white Jumpsuits. The man stood up holding his head like
I’ll never forget the first time I saw the girl. It was mid-October and it was unusually cold for the area. The air was biting at my feet as I stood outside barefoot. The smell of smoke filled the air. I put out my cigarette, prepared to walk back inside.
The Girl in the Dark Read More »
As the last of the crisp brown Autumn leaves fell to the worn pavement, the young man let out a sigh. So much had happened in the time since he left in the spring of 2001. His home, his workshop, even his favorite stores and restaurants were gone. Walking past
The Forgotten Hour Read More »
If you want to understand why I left the place I was at, you’re really just going to have to hear the entire story. You won’t believe it, of course. But your skepticism means nothing. Because what I saw that night on the bayou has been with me ever since.
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.
A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to
