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‘The walls have ears,’ and ‘Your home shares your fondest memories.' These are just a couple of rather meaningless things my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl. However, those words were the first thing that came back to me as I was fighting amnesia. Nobody had a clue why, and, quite frankly, everybody was so happy that I was regaining my memory, that nobody seemed to care about anything else. I didn’t care either, not at first anyway.

-DATE CROSSED OUT-

I was so excited. I hadn't ever really gone camping before, so the fact that one of my friends asked me to go with him was amazing in and of itself. He made plans for five other guys to join us as well. The plan was to leave right after classes on Friday evening and drive up to an old abandoned farmhouse, which, in Kansas, aren't too uncommon. This one was special, though, or so I was told by Riley, my friend that had invited me. He said not only was the house quite large and well held…

The weekend was the time when somebody like me, a 12-year-old boy, didn’t have much to do apart from playing alone in the house. My mother kept an eye on me at all times, and I can’t really blame her, after all, I think I broke every single window in this house at least twice. That’s why I’m not allowed to play football indoors anymore.

[POST #1] Hello all. Today I went on an interesting trip. It took me a while to save up for the plane tickets, but it was worth it. Before I get into too much detail, I should introduce myself. Well, not really, I'm very paranoid when it comes to the internet, and I won't disclose my real name, so if you want to speak to me, just call me Delmar. I don't know what’s about that word, but I've been digging it lately.

It started when I was six years old. I was in school, it was the middle of a reading lesson, and I needed to pee, badly. At that age, actually, a fair few kids still wet themselves, and I always got paranoid about embarrassing myself in public like that. I stuck my hand up and told Mrs. Zebby that I needed to use the bathroom. After the usual speech about how I “should have gone at break”, she gave me the key to the Disabled-Access toilet (as it was the closest one to my classroom).

There is a video on YouTube named Mereana Mordegard Glesgorv. If you search this, you will find nothing. The few times you find something, all you will see is a 20 second video of a man staring intently at you, expressionless, then grinning for the last 2 seconds. The background is undefined. This is only part of the actual video.

That damn rain again.

I used to go diving a lot. Not so much anymore, but a couple years ago I was really into it, had my license and everything. It’s really beautiful down there: the pale patterned sand, the water washing away the distance like a blue mist, and flashes of the brightest colors you’ve ever seen as some fish darts into view. I’ve done my share of exploring wrecks and grottoes, but my favorite thing to do is hover right where the shelf plunges into the deep. You get the greatest dynamics there as…

It was simple, we thought. Take a few chromosomes, slice them up, put them over there, and hey, perfect human being. I’m still not sure what went wrong. Maybe a miscalculation? A misprocedure? Or maybe something beyond our control. Who knows? We (a few of my psychologist colleagues and I) were intrigued by human emotion. Anger, despair, euphoria. Was it possible to lock the mind into one emotion? To lock it into a euphoric state so that no sadness or anger would cloud its thought?…

It was 2:31 a.m. exactly; I remember that from glancing at the clock on my nightstand just before I grabbed the revolver from beneath my mattress. My girlfriend, Ashlyn, was startled by some noises she’d been hearing from the kitchen, so she woke me up to check it out. “Cullen, there’s something in the kitchen!” I remember her whispering to me, like whatever it was would hear us. I let out a sigh, and, not sure what to expect, I crept downstairs, my weapon ready.

"Y'know, they say this city, it never sleeps." She tapped the ashes off her cigarette and gazed up at the neon lights. "But I'm just prayin' one day I'll wake up." I looked her over. Watched her adjust the shoulder strap of her dirty tank top, watched her shift her weight to the other high heel. She couldn't have been older than 17. When she had asked me for a cigarette outside the gas station, I had reluctantly obliged, but now she stood beside my car as I filled the tank.

I'm sure you've heard of the Ronald McDonald House charity. They provide housing for families of sick kids when they're in the hospital. Seems pretty innocent, right? Well, there's another side to the charity. There's another type of Ronald McDonald House, one that not many people know about. There's one in most big cities. You won't find it by looking for it. It doesn't have an address. It doesn't have a sign above the door. It doesn't even have windows.

Everyone has heard it. The voice in your mind that comes from nowhere, bringing absurd thoughts that you have to shake off. The voice urges us to pull into traffic, jump from deadly heights, and reminds us just how easy it would be to take someone's life. This phenomenon has been labeled as Intrusive Thoughts - Unwelcome involuntary thoughts, images, or unpleasant ideas that are upsetting or distressing, and can be difficult to manage or eliminate.

When I woke up in the morning, I knew something was off. Pretty soon I realized that I was missing a tooth. Upper set, one of the front ones. I'm not a particularly vain person, but losing a tooth upset me a lot. My anxiety flared and my mind exploded with reasons why my tooth could've fallen out. Was it because I only brushed my teeth once a day on the weekends? Or was it something with my gums? I went through the day with my upper lip curled over my teeth and my mind filled with every…

A little girl’s parents went out for a business dinner so they hired a babysitter to watch her. “Can I have some ice cream?” the little girl, Holly asked after supper. “Sure” the babysitter, Beatrice said. “Where’s the freezer?” “In the basement, so are the nuts, cherries and candy and stuff.” When she went down to get the ice cream, she looked out the window to see a little girl standing outside. This didn’t strike her as too suspicious and she simply brushed it off.

The last pale stripes of light were fading quickly behind the city’s expanse that evening. The street, still damp from a recent rain, glimmered thinly. The streetlights had not yet flickered to life, and the street was hanging suspended in that breathless squinting moment between light and dark.

My son and I often play games, he's five years old so our games can range from pirate battles in the middle of the ocean to simple board games like snakes and ladders. Today we decided to play hide and seek. I counted to fifty while he went to hide in one of the three hiding places that he always picks. 'Ready or not, here I come' I called, as I slowly made my way to the sofa. I looked down and there he was two little feet sticking out from behind the sofa, accompanied by muffled laughter.

My childhood was always filled with fun. When I was a young boy, boredom was a very rare occurrence. This was the case mainly because of how much time I spent being happily occupied with either my Nintendo 64 or my Gameboy. I was the master, the undisputed champion of every game I owned for those systems. Occasionally there would come a time where perhaps the 8-bit graphics and sounds of Kirby’s Dream Land or Super Mario Land would leave unwanted lasting impressions on me while I was trying to…

There it is! In between the static. It's faint, at first, buried deep in the hiss, but after you hear it, after you know it's there it becomes so loud you want to cover your ears and scream. I can sound the words out for you, but that's it. We never got the romanization down. It sounds like: Ip thoc ko ial preg iad tow dez vago tet.