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Okay.. So, before I begin, I just want to say that this story is true. What I’m about to tell you, really happened to me and I’m not just saying so. This happened when I was a kid. We lived in a smaller house back then and I shared a room with my elder sister. We had a bunk bed and I slept in the bottom bunk. Or, I tried to. For no good reason I was afraid to sleep there.

Lilleth stared up at the ceiling while bundled in her covers. Dimly lit with various band posters taped to the wall, it’s the room of a typical punk girl. She nodded her head to the beat, and softly sang along to the heavy metal playing on her speakers. She heard her mom calling over the music.“What!” Lilleth snapped, annoyed because she knew she would have to get up.

On June 4th, 1983, my high school was one of many that took us to Disneyland for Grad Night. If you’ve ever been to Disneyland on Grad Night, you know how much fun – and how crazy – it can be. The park stays open extra late, the skippers who drive the Jungle Cruise boats let loose and tell dirty jokes, and there’s plenty of opportunities for people to sneak booze and weed in. Getting a bunch of amped high schoolers in Disneyland is one thing, but with a nightlife and party atmosphere behind it,…

I'm a scaredy-cat. There's nothing that I hate more than being left alone at night in a dark, rambling house. In truth I usually do okay. Stay in my chair, on my computer... watch horror movies and shows. I'm a scaredy-cat, but I kind of like being scared.

I ran straight to the super market when I heard about the nuclear strike. The government said that a deadly disease was spreading were I lived, and that the were going to eliminate anyone who had it. When I got to the store, I saw that almost all of the canned foods were gone, infact, almost everything was gone. I grabbed all of the cans I could carry, ran outside to my car, and realized it was not enough to keep me alive in my bomb shelter.

God, I hope I'm just going crazy. You ever had one of those "how in the hell did I get here" moments? I mean those flashes of clarity where you really see your life. You look in the mirror and you’re so far removed from the person you dreamed of being when you were a kid that you're stunned speechless.

I don’t know why so many of these things have roots in childhood. It seems like a bad cliché at this point. “When I was a kid”, there was this strange event… that odd creature… or the other thing that made me do something-or-other. Yeah. I don’t know WHY so many start like that. For me, I can’t explain this any other way than starting when I was little. It’s the crux of the entire thing, and I apologize in advance if it seems like I’m just following in the footsteps of others.

Hey guys, my name is Martin. I got something to get off my chest, something that has been clawing at me since it happened. It has changed my life and I was so damn lucky to get out of it, let alone Scott free! I was only 15 when it happened, I lived in the bad side of Chicago, a place that is so crime ridden, corrupt, and destroyed, that the Police won't drive here unless they muster up the courage or they just have to. Our house was the thing that stood out the most from my memory. It was a…

I've lost control in every sense of the word. The steering wheel is slipping loosely through my crimson splattered hands and the cry of a father’s daughter screaming in agony echoes in my conscious. The knife on the passenger seat is sliding back and forth across the leather like a euphoric heretic mid ritual as the grim world outside is reflecting onto its scarlet tainted surface. The rain is growing greater and greater and my car’s wheels barely maintain their connection onto the road as I…

Do you remember those old televisions that everyone’s grandparents had in their basements? Those old bunny ear t.v.’s that turned to static whenever there was a storm or even a little wind? I do... All too well. Children have very vivid imaginations. We all remember seeing things that our parents told us weren’t really there. The monster under the bed, the beady eyes in the closet that were really just your jacket’s reflectors, the ghost in your basement that would “get you” if the lights…

My legs and torso are bound by a series of buckled leather straps. The mask lets me breathe but I'm unable to call for help. My arms are secured at the elbow and wrist. The only thing my hands can reach is the combination lock dangling at my waist. I click it shut. We are go for launch.

My Summer break had finally arrived, and was filled with many joys. One of the great thrills it held was a very energetic and lovable kitten, who I enjoyed playing with immensely. Unfortunately, the kitten wasn't mine, and instead he belonged to my roommate, or ex-roommate I should say. He was the one who had offered me a place to stay after the College dorms had kicked all the students out at Spring Semester's end. His name was Hobbes and he was 9 months old, although I wouldn't have known…

I don't recall ever seeing an actual music box. I mean sure I'd seen them on television but have never actually held one. Why is this relevant you may ask? Well, what I have to say about some things I've experienced recently involve sounds that can only come from a music box.

When I was a kid, I was a huge sucker for Barbie dolls. Really. I didn't care for them like other girls did; giving them baths and cleaning them up and going to sleep with them, but I did like playing with them. I was usually playing around with the outfits, having them talk to each other, stuff like that.

You know those sounds you hear when no one is home? Those sounds only you hear. When you’re alone. I do. I hear them everyday. The creaking. The noises. The paranoia of my mind playing tricks on me, but is it really?

It’s Christmas time, and my mom wanted to start a new tradition. Of course she had to make it “Elf on a Shelf”. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, but she knew that I wouldn’t go for just a hidden elf. So my mom made it a murdering elf. Why the fuck not, right? It’s already creepy enough looking already. But that’s not it. She put post-it notes on the elf and they were clues to find the “victims” of the elf. She knew I was horrible at finding things, so this was for her amusement. I was…

I... I don't have much time, but I just have to type this up. I've been hurt... pretty bad... There's so much...blood I... I think I'm gonna die... I'm so scared. But I have to get the message out! I just need to make myself heard before it's too late.

Edwin was widely considered to be one of the better actors of his time. Some even called him the best overall. With a healthy, theatrical love for Shakespeare plays, he found any chance he could to get involved in one, a contestant among critics to be the finest Hamlet that there ever was, and ever will be.

It was 10:00 at night and I had a friend over, my friend Noah. He was basically the first friend I made when I moved to this new school. We had spent the whole day at an airsoft war down in the city. We were tired, but not sleepy. We played some games on our PlayStation 3 and did so for about four hours. Now keep in mind that my room is big. It was a fifteen by twenty foot room and what stood out the most was this window that took up a good portion of one of the walls.

I don't want it. It needs to get out of my house. I thought it was gone. I had never been so wrong.