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June 24th, 2011 Finally found a job working with Zach at his uncle’s place. A salvaging company, digging up boat parts and other junk from the river to make it safer, stuff like that. It’s not really my thing, but it’s a job and I’m grateful for it. Met his uncle earlier today, his name is Walter, really jovial and built like a concrete mixer. We got to talking for awhile, ended up liking me and gave me a position as a diver for his crew. Told him I never dived a day in my life, but he said he…

“I remember when you were just a little girl. Your mother and I tried our best to give you a home where you couldn’t be hurt, since we lived in a bit of a… shady part of town. When you were just a toddler, you would always follow me around the house with that cute little smile of yours, showing me that you still loved me, even after what I had done to the family. Maybe you didn’t know that I divorced your mother and took custody of you because of your undeveloped brain. No, a child naturally…

The feeling of a lingering presence during solitary moments… Everybody gets that feeling. I’m sure you have too. What you probably haven’t done is try to explain its occurrence.

It was a cold winters afternoon, soft flurries of snow were gathering on the boys window sill, much of it piling in a clump on his timbered bedroom floor, unfortunately his window panes, which were designed to keep him from catching a flu, had been shattered.

Ever had a fear of monsters under your bed? Like you could have sworn you saw what seemed to be a shadow moving down there, or freaked out when you heard a noise under the bed and was scared to look?

"So tell me Mr. Harold, what ha-.." "M-Marcus is fine.." The psychologist was interrupted by the shaken man in the seat before him. He was shaking, head pointed towards the floor, staring into space with wide eyes as his clammy sweaty palms were clasped together tightly. "Ok, Marcus then. Can you tell me what happened on the night of April 23rd, 2014?" The psychologist finished his sentence and fixed his gaze on Marcus. Studying his body language.

I must have been six or seven when I lived in Lebanon. The country was ravaged by war at the time, and murders were common and frequent. I remember during a particularly vicious era, when the bombings rarely stopped, I would stay at home sitting in front of my television watching a very, very strange show.

Min-Jun awoke, gasping for air as he flailed in the shallow water. His vision blurred by the salt water, he flung himself ashore, and lay face first in the sand. He swabbed away the water from his eyes and attempted to open them. His eyelids fluttered until he finally was able to keep them pried. Min-Jun looked around at his surroundings.

In the United States of America, in the state of Ohio, about forty-five minutes North West of Cincinnati, there is a large, but sparsely populated farming community known as Oregonia. Some of you who have an interest in motorcycles may have heard of it before, as the community is famous for its hills. So famous, it holds the annual “Devils Staircase Hill Climb,” where motorcyclists ride their bikes up a very steep hill hill. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, and it brings in a lot of money…

In the United States of America, in the state of Ohio, about forty-five minutes North West of Cincinnati, there is a large, but sparsely populated farming community known as Oregonia. Some of you who have an interest in Motorcycles may have heard of it before, as the community is famous for its hills and holds the annual “Devil's Staircase Hill Climb”, where motorcyclists ride their bikes up a very steep hill. It's a lot more fun than it sounds, and it brings in a lot of money and excitement to…

They are here, banging on doors, windows, pipes, walls, vents. They have nowhere else to go, no one else to torture, their only way left to get to me is to torture me slowly, until I cannot wait for death to release me, as I am sure they will do. I have very little time to type this, so let me explain as quickly as possible.

Since around 1999, I’ve lived across the street from an old sawmill. It’s sort of assumed that the family who still own and operate the mill have owned the hundred or so acres it sits on since the beginning of time. The owner’s sons, now into their 30’s, have always sort of been “wild” boys. They like old muscle cars, dirt bikes, fireworks, things like that. They even built part of the largely-unused land behind the sawmill proper into a motocross track, just building up the dirt to make ramps,…

When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal, in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started. The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy; the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach…

Annabelle was the focus of a case that famed paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren took part in during the early 1970s, and is highlighted in the book The Demonologist. It has been stated that this is one of the most unusual cases of a possessed object on record.

If you venture deep into the forests of the Appalachian Mountains, you must wear tight-fitting clothes at all times. Make sure that your pant legs are tucked into your socks, and be sure to wear heavy boots. This is very important. Because what many don't know, is that there is something stocking these mountains. A creature with a voracious appetite, for human flesh. They hide all around you; in bushes, under rocks, or in the branches of tall trees. Their dark eyes leer out from under their…

I've been working at a police station in Massachussets for the past ten years. No, I'm not an officer but rather a First Responder. It's...not such a big job, or at least to me anyway, because my family lives in mid-sized city. Average 20,000 people. The most important calls I get include robberies and house fires. And then there are the pranks that teenagers play on Halloween and such like that. I'm recording all of this. The reason why is because I'm scared like hell. Still scared.

I haven't been sleeping much anymore. My two room apartment has a window right next to my bed. I’ve started to notice something odd about the people going by. Have you ever seen how video game characters don’t seem to walk? They just glide forward while doing a walking animation, like a reverse moonwalk. That’s what they do, they don’t tip forward with each step, and they keep their torsos completely straight and legs moving beneath them while drifting past my window.

I was so happy to get this computer. For the last three years I’ve been on a laptop. Long story, boring, but let’s just say a fire took out my desktop and half the apartment complex I lived in while I was at school, and the insurance money would only cover a laptop.

A lot of these stories start off with, "I don’t know why I’m writing this." Well, this isn’t one of them tales. In fact, I knew full well I should be writing this, even though I was told not to. I can’t in good conscious not tell this story.

In the summer of 1996, the town of Newport Bay was struck by an odd and gristly phenomenon. Earlier that year, the employees of a small animal shelter had been found mauled and eaten, by what appeared to be a rather large animal. The location and severity of the wounds added to the already powerful feelings of dread, fear and paranoia the residents were experiencing. Being eaten alive is often thought to be one of the worst ways to go, and while everyone has their own opinions on the worst ways…