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In 1999, my family visited Disneyland. We happily rode the Small World ride. I was 12 at the time and my sister was 6. We loved every moment and our parents smiled with nostalgia. At one time near the end, some lights suddenly shut off and rear lights illuminated the ceiling. The moving display parts shut off and crew members wearing red overalls walked along them to help passengers in the boats onto the stages to direct them out of the building via emergency exits.

“Wake … up … you must … wa-“. That’s when it stopped. Those were the last words the tall, dark figure spoke to me when a white curtain fell over all that I saw, covering the previous scenery with an endless sea of snow.

Those eyes, those. Horrible. Staring eyes. It took me a moment to re-gain composure and spin around to await the fate of my life, as I turn a piercing, tearing sensation fills the back of my neck, I cannot scream, I cannot move I am helpless, staring blankly with an expressionless face and in an instant the blade is twisted, I writhe in agony and then simply. I wake up.

“Come on James!” I hurriedly whispered. “Coming man!” James replied quietly. We had been walking back from a long day at the park, playing football, buying some snack and being a general nuisance to the birds that wanted to pick up crumbs from the ground. Our walk from and to the park took us around the outskirts of a condemned neighbourhood, and though we were slightly spooked by the general vibes being given off the place during the day, it was nowhere near as creepy and grotesque during the…

May 22, 2011, started off as any other typical day in Joplin, Missouri. Churches were in service; students were in the process of graduating. Birds were chirping. Everything was in a state of peace. It was hard to believe that the tranquil city of Joplin would transform into a near war zone with its devastation and collateral damage.

"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.

4:38:03 PM He placed the cold steel barrel to his temple, feeling it press against bone. The scarred right wrist was steady, the shoulder relaxed, as he’d been trained. Standing in front of the mirror, his dry brown eyes burned with concentration. The muscles of his right hand contracted. The trigger began to move. His cracked lips curled to one side. The same sly, crooked half smile so many girls and women found appealing.

December 27, 2024 Alternate universes are real I can swear on it. There’s rumors circulating on social media about leaked studies on alternate universes and how it could be possible. I remembered all my visions from when I was younger, and some of the visions from more recent times. Could it be possible that there are alternate universes and I just so happened to keep seeing them? I’ll be committing most of my time to these studies from now on. January 2, 2025

Sacred Spirit came to me and reached out for my hand, whispered words of comfort so I could understand. Birth, Death Rebirth, Cycles of a whole never ending just eclipsed the cycles of the soul.

I live in South London in a third floor flat in a five story building, two floors above, two floors below. Being that I live in London I’m used to seeing people act drunk, crazy or violent; Especially at night when the nutters come out. But what I experienced two nights ago shook me to this very moment, so I feel I have to write it down in case my situation becomes more weird than it already is. Why did he choose my door!?

Ever since I was young, everyone has commented on the fact that I look just like a giant potato. Strangely they've never considered the possibility that I am a giant potato.

I've always found it particularly difficult to start a story. It's easy to end one, but ever since grade school when my teachers would make me write a short story, I could never make a good start. I suppose I'll start by saying this is a story. A story about my best friend. He died about 2 years ago. He was in his living room, sitting, watching tv, and he had a heart attack. And boom. Just like that he's dead. Gone. Bye bye. See you later. It was really shocking when I found out.

She was beautiful. She had a great face, great body, and her hair, goodness gracious, her hair! It was so silky, long, and so absolutely perfect. The entire school knew this. She knew it. Her younger sister did, too.

The old storage sheds along the tracks were abandoned shortly after the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad was built, and it wasn't long before the poor folk of the area moved in. The sheds provided shelter - of a sort - although the winter wind still pierced through every crevice, and the small fireplaces that the poor constructed did little to keep the cold at bay.

Do you know about the monster under your bed? How it wasn’t there when someone would look for it? Or was your monster behind the curtain, suddenly gone when you asked someone to check behind it? Some of them used to hide in the closet and like all of these monsters, were gone when someone else tried to find them.

A few weeks ago, my parents were driving up to see my cousins. We always visit them during the summer. On the way there, we drove through a little village. Some church by the road was having a car boot sale. A massive banner told us it was in aid of charity.

Okay, let me make this easy by explaining how I did what I did. In Layman’s terms, of course. I like to experiment. Metals, wires, chemicals, those kind of things. I’m not super, super serious about it. I go to college for linguistics, I’m pretty normal. My favorite things to work with are things that the public aren’t really supposed to get ahold of. I did a comparison via microscope of a Cuban cigar to one from Nicaragua, and was actually able to spot some key differences.

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.

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.

The scene: An idyllic houshold, with no peculiarities. The cast: A traditional nuclear family, living caricatures from a Norman Rockwell piece. The parents make small talk as they all eat a breakfast of bacon and eggs. The children hurriedly scarf down the meal, eager for school. The mother picks up the dishes and together they walk out the door to begin the day. Their footsteps make no noise as they walk on the black dirt where grass grew once upon a time. The father takes a whiff of the…