Recently my great-grandfather died and me and my family inherited his house. We didn’t actually need it, since it was in another state, so we decided to sell it and use that money for something else. But before that we decided that we should clean the house out and get […]
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Awash with terror, I lay in bed jumping and flinching at every creak. The old country house had always made such noises at night. The beams would creak, the windows would knock and the wind would howl down the fireplace. I had not always been so afraid of these sounds,
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The story you are about to read is one that has been, for the last 70 years, left to wither in the hearts of those few who recall it. Of the twelve of us present that day, only I remain, and my own end is rapidly approaching. I write this
Only Following Orders Read More »
I was always close to my uncle, even if I was too young to truly know or understand him. He was a military man for the whole time I knew him and usually told the most batshit crazy stories you could imagine, but they were never exaggerated or made up. He was in Desert Storm and came back telling us about all the things that were over there. We were positive he was making up the part about the camel spiders, but the Brittanica set my grandparents had proved it to be true! He talked about how big they were, how fast, and skin-crawlingly ugly and nightmarish they appeared. He also made sure to mention he’d only really seen them twice.
On Davidson Avenue, one mile east of Highway 164 and East Main Street Intersection, sits the entrance to Hillcrest Park, home of the now defunct Nike Missile Base, known to the Waukesha, Wisconsin locals as The Old Hillcrest Doom Tower. From 1956 to 1964 the active site was home to
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One of my least favorite parts about being a middle school history teacher is the bullshit “Living History” assignments we give at the end of every school year. Kids are supposed to sit with their grandparents and video tape, voice record, or transcribe their oldest memories for posterity (and for
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Roger glanced around the desert once more. Nothing but the cloudless sky and the sand scattering in the wind, with a few cacti dotted around the landscape. With nothing else to do, he checked his magazine, already knowing how many bullets he had. Full. Adjusting his helmet, Roger sighed and
The Old Lie of the Dead Lands ‘frankness as never before, disillusions as never told in the old days, hysterias, trench confessions, laughter out of dead bellies. There died a myriad, And of the best, among them, For an old bitch gone in the teeth, For a botched civilization.’ –
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