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Three years. It has been three years since that incident. Three years since I put myself out there and got into the dating field. Despite it being years since I met her, I hear her voice any time I’m alone, and I often felt her touch on my skin whenever I laid restless in bed. Not a day would go by without me reflecting on the past which I agree is unhealthy, but it was a force of habit. I feel that I owe you all an explanation.

I'm not sure I'm allowed to post this here. If there's a better place, please let me know. I really just want to figure out what happened, so I'm trying to share this on as many forums as possible. If anyone experienced something similar or knows somebody who has, please contact me. I'd be grateful for any information because I really think I'm going insane over this.

It began in an attic; dim and eerie with nothing visible past two feet ahead of you. I don't know what I was doing there to be honest, all I know is, I woke up there with no memory of how I happened to be in that room. The worst part of it was… my house didn't have an attic, meaning I was in someone else's home I didn't know of. There was a thick silence that was almost suffocating to me because the smallest of movements that I made sounded throughout the entire room.

I've never been what you'd call a "gamer". Sure, I own a console. It's outdated by now. I like to play the odd game. But that's about it. I'm almost forty. Old enough now that when I was at the height of my "gaming" years, all that really entailed was getting together with friends to play Mario or Castlevania, or Excite Bike, or Punch-Out. Maybe Sonic if a friend had a Genesis, which no one does anymore.

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.

I was home alone for the week, as my family had gone on vacation while I had to stay and work. It was around 2 AM, and I’d stayed up to watch a scary movie in the dark in my basement. I was intent on really scaring myself and seeing how far into terror I could really go – while still knowing I was safe in my own home.

Beware, boys and girls; beware Brie Woods! It is no place for such young children; Monsters are lurking in its shadows, Big and small, wicked and kind. There are brothers that roam those woods, five of them, looking to either guide or slay its travelers. Heed my warning, and you might survive; Don't, and your death is almost certain.

Ever since I was a boy, I have always loved the woods. Well, had might be better word, but I'm getting ahead of myself. As a child, I lived in a house right next to a heavily wooded area. Every day, I would go out into the woods with my friends. We covered nearly every inch of those woods. Hiking, camping, climbing trees, you name it. The woods were our playground and we controlled them. Or so we thought....

As I sit down to write this narrative, the air around me has become cold and thin. The end is near I am afraid. But I shall welcome the grips of death. I have nothing else to live for, everything I have is gone. Quite frankly everything I know or have ever known is gone. Swept away in a single flash of fate, a snap and my entire world was obliterated.

Mr. Angel sat next to me on the park bench. He is my best friend. I pointed to an old man that sat across from me. “What’s he doing Mr. Angel?” An unlit cigarette sat in the corner of the man’s mouth. His eyes were withered with age as he stared blankly at nothing. Mr. Angel leaned close to me as he whispered into my ear. “He’s looking for a woman he lost a long time ago.” He cooed. His words felt warm against my cheek as I smiled up at him. I liked his secrets; Mr. Angel knew everything.

I launched myself for the radio receiver, and jerked up the mouthpiece. I wiped away the film of sweat from my forehead before replying. “Receiving.” My throat was tight with a lump the size of a golf ball. “It’s good to hear your voice comrade.” “You too. How are you doing?” Leaning towards the porthole, I stared out into the cold void, hoping to catch some glimpse of the Soyuz capsule somewhere out in the twinkling stars. “All systems great. Amazing view of the Pacific right now.”

The complication that is involved regarding why I am where I am is far too great for me to try and explain but, to simplify things, it’s important to know that I am ‘stuck’. I use the term ‘stuck’ lightly as I am able to stretch my arms outside the barrier I’m held in. Unfortunately, in order for me to be fully free from this blank prison I’d have to grab hold of some sort of anchor point residing in the outside world. When I grab hold of it I’d have drag myself out, so the anchor point would…

Today is Tuesday, May 20, 2014 and I am real. At least I think I am. Since 7th grade I have been different than anyone else on the planet. I have something with no name. Something that makes me question the very existence of everything around me. I call it "in somnium ambulat". In Latin it meant "The Dream Walk" and that doesn't even start to cover it. Occasionally, when I dream, I fall asleep. When I wake up I can't tell if it's real life or still a dream. I can live for months at a time in my…

It has been six weeks since my first sighting of the wicked old hag. I woke up in the middle of the night and went to roll over, but my entire body was paralysed. I lay there, scared and helpless, contemplating my predicament when I became aware of a presence in the room with me…a presence that I can only describe as pure evil.

During a period from 1946-1952, in a small town in western Germany, the residents heard what resembled a six-gun salute on the fifteenth of March every year. Some residents made frequent trips into the surrounding hills in hopes of finding the source of the noise, but to no avail. The townsfolk eventually coined the area as “Gunpowder Hill.” The children of the town even created a legend about it, stating that soldiers, who in that time were missing but presumed dead, had been killed in an…

I need to find Sabrina. Something bad has happened in this house that was once a home. This was no place for a child, especially for one that calls me Daddy. Within the darkness she lies. Where? I do not know, but I will find her. God help me, I will find her.

What is it about being naked that makes someone feel so vulnerable? I mean, really, are you suddenly stronger with clothes? Maybe if you’re the type who goes around wearing steel toed boots and Kevlar, but if you are, something tells me that even in the buff you probably know more than the average Joe about self-defense and would stand a good chance in a fight either way.

There are some places in Texas I advise you to go to: San Antonio. Austin. Poteet. Dallas. La Vernia. Just to name a few if you want to experience real Texas in a breathtaking way. And then there's Kosciusko, Texas, a place that I would never bring up in normal conversation. It's a place you don't go to. It's a place you drive far away from when nighttime falls. It's a place where your car stops and stalls and you feel sweat beading down your neck as you try to jiggle the keys in fear.

On a scale of one to ten, what's the surest you've ever been at any one moment that something absolutely sinister was looking straight at you? I'd rate my experience earlier tonight at about an eight.

The following are diary entries taken from a leather-bound notebook that was recovered from an abandoned house awaiting demolition. -- Jun. 6, 1984 Maybe I’m paranoid, I don’t know. I’m just going to write these; maybe it will help me figure out what’s going on. Last night, something really strange happened in the morgue.