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I don't want to burst anyone's bubble, here… so if you believe in haunted "Lost Episode" legends and enjoy living in that world, maybe this isn't the post for you. Don't get me wrong - I hate when people complain about "lack of realism" in entertainment, and I think all kids need to believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy for as long as possible, but… this is different.

Nobody remembers when they appeared, some think they have been here since the beginning of time and space, or at least since the first human existed, others think they came into existence more recently. I personally don't care where they come from, or how they got here, I only really care about keeping myself alive.

I last saw my girlfriend around seventeen years ago. Although for me, it was last week.

In late November, I inherited a home and was in the process of clearing out what was left of the estate of my great-aunt, who had passed away, when I stumbled upon a very odd DVD of an obscure show. The box was badly damaged, but the disc was in perfect condition. The mystery had piqued my interest, so I loaded it up on my DVD player to check it out, and there were no problems with starting the DVD, except for a black screen which only lasted 30 seconds.

I’ve been a security guard at Somatic Self Storage for a few years now. I’d lost my previous job due to the first round of Covid lockdowns, and at the time, getting hired here seemed like a godsend. It pays more than double the average rate for a security guard around here, despite it otherwise being a pretty standard job. The only catch was that I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement regarding exactly what it was we were keeping in storage.

It's funny how tales like this cling to you, worming their way into your mind, gnawing away, festering like a wound. They say truth is stranger than fiction, but sometimes the stories we pass down—the ones we whisper in shadowy corners or over drinks at seedy bars—are more chilling and grotesque than any proven fact. This is one of those tales. A fable, sure, but one that sits far too close to reality. Told by those who find comfort in the macabre, and believed by those who understand that the…

“What’s got you in such a sour mood, Brandon? It’s payday!” my veteran colleague Vinson asked as the rusty freight elevator noisily rattled its way up towards the penthouse suite.

October 29th The announcement hit the internet like a bomb.

My therapist suggested I start writing my thoughts down in a journal, saying it will supposedly help me understand and process my emotions, and I’ll get to know myself better as a result. I am sceptical, but what the hell, I’ll give it a shot! I have never kept a journal before, so I have no clue how to start… Uhm, hello, I guess. I’m me and I’m writing this to myself… Do I introduce myself now? To whom? I already know myself, and I highly doubt anyone else is ever going to read this, except my…

You may have heard about the Dandy Corporation's modern-day ghost towns. A company as large and as long-lasting as Dandy Co. is bound to make a few mistakes, and when they do, it's often cheaper to just ignore them than to throw good money after bad.

It's been 25 years to the day since my friend Baptiste disappeared. Not officially. The date in the police record says 'September 14' because his aunt didn't report him missing until three days later. I was the last person to see him though. I know when and where he disappeared, and I told the cops, but they brushed me off. I was just making things up to protect my friends, they said, and that I had watched too many horror movies.

I consider myself a pretty average resident of Indianapolis, Indiana. I was born and raised here, went to school here, and I'm currently attending Martin University to earn my degree in Environmental Science. Just like my dad always wanted. I enjoy motorsports and home makeover shows, and I love me a good sugar cream pie. I've been called a 'Midwestern stereotype' more than once, but only by new acquaintances from uni. By people who don't know I haven't always been this way.

I hate snow. Not in the way most people hate the inconvenience of shoveling their driveways or the sting of icy wind slicing through their scarves. Not in the way someone groans when their morning commute is slowed to a crawl or when their favorite shoes soak through, leaving their socks clammy and cold. No, my hatred runs deeper than that—bone-deep, marrow-deep, settling into the cracks of my ribs like frost that never thaws.

The handwritten sign plastered to my door was not something I could miss. ‘Rent due on Monday: don’t be fucking late this time.’ Living with my best mate’s sister had been working out reasonably well, and to be fair, I felt terrible about being behind on rent so often, but I still wished Hazel would find a less passive-aggressive way of reminding me.

There was this tiny indie horror movie that basically nobody had seen. I don't even remember how we found it. Maybe TikTok, or maybe someone on Reddit recommended it. It had one of those titles that sounded way cooler after you finished watching it than before, and it looked like it had a budget of maybe twenty dollars. Somehow it still worked. It wasn't really scary in the traditional sense. There weren't any monsters or cheap jump scares. It was just... unsettling.

"What do you mean, 'you're almost there'?" Ralf's voice was barely audible through the prattle of the nightly downpour. "Past the exit sign." I leaned closer to the phone holder. "I'll be there in 20 minutes. 30 at most." I tried to come up with a quick estimate how long it would take to unload the hodgepodge of furniture and crates from the estate sale, but Ralf cut me off. "It's Friday, Frank." A pause, then: "We said Saturday."

When I was eleven years old, my family lived in a small, blue, relatively remote house in northern Sweden. The rear of the house had a small deck facing a dense old-growth pine and spruce forest, while the front had a garage, a shed for firewood, and a fairly large lawn. My little brother, Oskar, had just been born about a month prior, and my parents were beginning to settle into their new routine. On the day in question, my father was away shopping for groceries, while my mother was inside…

For as long as I can remember, I've dreamed of flying. I mean... who hasn't dreamed of flying? It's the most wonderful thing there is. I still remember, as a youngster, my afternoons spent scanning the sky, trying to make out shapes in the clouds. Who hasn't? A rabbit, a dragon, a monster or even a car. Watching the clouds has never been so stimulating for our imagination. However, I wanted to be more than just a spectator. I wanted to swim in this ocean of lightness, to split the skies like a…

It was late, right around 8:00 P.M. For November this meant that the shadows of the night were already engulfing the world. It wasn’t cold out though. The wind was gentle and carried with it the smells of foliage thanks to the various gardens that littered the campus grounds.

Poster: DoomBathRoom033 Subject: Weird story (?) I found in my attic This is my first time posting on this part of the forums and if I'm breaking any of the rules please let me know! Quick background: my husband and I recently bought a house and we've been documenting our DIY adventures as we renovate it. Here's a link to the thread, check it out if you enjoy questionable design choices and photos of our superstar celebrity cat, Mr. Scratch!