Welcome to

It started in the girls' changing room after gym. Standing on the cold tile floor while scrubbing off the sweat with a wet wipe. I’ve been here so many times my movements are automatic, almost involuntary, whilst I am in my own mind, milling the minutes until next period.

The first time Sasha got high, she stood face-to-face with a black bear in the backyard of her friend’s house. She was giggling while her two best friends Jade and Colt stood behind her absolutely terrified. She wasn’t sure why this was her reaction or what other drug those edible gummy bears were laced with, but the bear looked adorable standing on its hind legs and raising its snout into the air.

The following document is from a journal found in an abandoned mental facility. Please note that the probability that any of this is real is low, and most likely the result of the patient's broken mind. I doubt anyone will believe me, I doubt any of you who might have stumbled upon this will even care afterwards. This is my story. I’m writing this down because somehow that thing got in here. I don't know how much time I have, maybe an hour, maybe a few seconds before it breaks the door down.

Never get a hole in one at a mini-golf course. Trust me, the risk is not worth the fleeting sense of accomplishment. Let's be real. You probably got one on accident, anyway, so any pride you'd feel is undeserved.

My dog has always been kind of overexcited, running up and down the corridor, jumping all over our guests, relentlessly barking, and so on. I'm aware it's probably my fault for not being strict enough and encouraging this type of behaviour when he was a puppy. However, over the past few days, he has been very quiet. A bit too quiet. He's always hiding under the bed or behind the curtains, and sometimes, he even tries to hide under our linens, which is unusual since he's never been allowed on…

In the blood-warm waters of dream There is a place A forest. In the center, a calm, frozen stream gleams in the moonlight Tall trees stand infinitely on all sides You cannot leave You have no desire to. It is dark Blurred streaks of blues and greens run seamlessly through the forest You know that there is a reason For this imprisonment each night The forest wants something from you. A thick silence Gentle wind softly brushes your face Leaves bristle in anticipation

It took me longer than it should have to realize one simple truth: humanity has a blind spot, and hiding in it are living nightmares.

The small town of Ravenswood was plagued by a terrifying creature, known as the Dogman. It was said to be a creature that was half-man half-dog, with glowing red eyes and razor-sharp teeth. It was a creature of legend, but the people of Ravenswood knew it to be all too real. It had been attacking and killing their livestock for months, and the town was in a state of crippling fear.

As usual; I was exhausted after yet another long day at work at an unimportant job in an unimportant place. I have a big social circle of friends and family. Christmas holidays were coming up. Had lots of traveling and festivity related preparations that had to be done by morning. Of course I had to do them all at the last minute because that’s what the cool kids do. Which meant I didn’t get home until very late.

L-3 About 10 miles off the shores of Galveston, Texas, lies Grandiosia Isle: 300,000 acres of swamp, mountain, jungle, and thick pine forest. It has endured a lot—a blizzard during the early 1200s, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, and in 1875 a forest fire scorched the entire island, rendering it uninhabitable for some time. As a result, the island was nearly devoid of forest life, except for creatures capable of flight, until 1994 when deer and such were reintroduced onto the island.

Michael sat down on the bench, checking his watch as his leg nervously tapped the floor. The bus was running late today. That wasn’t good for him. He needed to make a good impression at this interview. This job could be a great stepping stone in his career—he had to get it. And if the bus didn’t hurry up, he wouldn’t! “C’mon, c’mon!” he murmured. “Let’s hurry this on up!”

Eight years ago, during the week before Halloween, some friends and I decided to tell spooky stories around the campfire. We had always wanted to make a fire outside and hang out at night, but we were too young to go by ourselves, especially after midnight. That year things were different. ‘We were no longer children,’ we thought, so we somehow convinced our parents to let us stay out late (we didn’t tell them about the fire, obviously).

You may laugh when you see a title like Night-Time-Vamps, you may just pass it over entirely, but that would be a tragedy, because you'd miss the warning about the Night-Time-Vamps. It was in Early summer me and my friends; Abby Carter, P. Skillet, and Tawanda Jones all went out to a camp site in a nearby national forest, to drink hooch and smoke pseudo legal recreational Marihuana.

Chapter 1: The Arrival My name is Emily Parker, and I've always been drawn to the mysteries of the supernatural. So, when rumors of a haunted mansion hidden deep in the woods reached my ears, I couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. Little did I know that my quest for answers would lead me into the heart of darkness itself.

It was rather late at night and I was returning home from a party. As exhausted as I was, I somehow stumbled to my car navigating my way through a dark route. Once there I popped my phone into the charger and set the map for home. I would say it was around one to two AM at this time, and I was ready to pass out, but I trekked on into the night. Listening as Siri told me, I got onto the highway that normally takes me home and prepared myself for the half hour voyage.

Old father long-Legs Can’t say his prayers. Take him by the left leg And throw him down the stairs. And when he’s at the bottom, Before he long has lain, Take him by the right leg And throw him up again. ~ Nursery rhyme

Everyone on the train was normal. Of course, Stuart didn’t care to notice that they were normal. When something is normal, the brain doesn’t pay it any mind. Why would it? It’s a waste of energy to notice the mundane. If it’s normal, it’s not a threat. It doesn’t need to be taken care of. Doesn’t need to be noticed, thought about, or given an ounce of consideration.

When my grandfather passed away during an early winter, my family scrambled to rid the house of his belongings before the first major storm. The asphalt-shingle roof of his one-story home was collapsing inward after years of neglect and most of the windows were boarded up with cheap plywood. Instead of paying for the repairs, my parents decided to leave the fate of the quaint brick abode up to Mother Nature. It was the first time we had visited since they relocated my grandfather to a nursing…

Ruby, crimson, scarlet. The colour of fire, of passion, of pain. Red. How I love it. It was beautiful. The boldness, the warmth of the colour stirred something deep inside me. It whispered to the very core of my being. Dark, seductive. Velvet promises of unrivalled pain and pleasure. It made me feel alive, but it was so rarely found pure and untouched. Red. Its essence, I could only behold it in fleeting glimpses. It always vanished before I could really appreciate that loveliness.

I remember that night all too vividly, as if the memories were etched into my very soul. It was a cold, moonless evening, the kind that sends shivers down your spine and makes you wish for the warmth and safety of home. But little did I know that home would offer no sanctuary from the horrors that awaited me.