Best rated stories

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

I'm glad you were able to return. Most would have walked away, chuckling to themselves at the notions I shared with you last time. It takes a special kind of obsession to ask questions and return, inquisitive and demanding. Well if you want more answers, this old man is going to need more libation. After all in this world, everything has a price. Including this conversation. I want your full birth name. Last time? That was advertising. You want my story, I want your name. What I intend to do…

The Journal of Harry Rellic The following; a series of the most recent excerpts from a private journal of ‘Harry Rellic’, a 22 year old found dead in his apartment this evening. Apparent death by overdose on cyanide. … I wake up at ten in the morning to my phone ringing. I pick up, expecting Hannah to be on the other end, but instead I hear her sister, Mary. She is in hysterics. I ask her what the problem is, trying to calm her down; she tells me Hannah is dead.

Nobody who ever met Ludovic Caesar could honestly say that he didn’t strike them as a reasonable and polite young man. He was strangely intelligent for his twenty three years, and there was something about the way he spoke that drew people to him. He pondered his choice of words carefully before speaking them, and when he did, they were beautiful and fluid, like poetry. Ludovic Caesar was a man who mostly declined the company of other beings, a man who was more content with his work then with…

Dude, I fucked up so bad. Now I’m in the hospital waiting for the cops to ask their questions that I don’t even really know the answers to. Trying to help me get my story straight? Alright man, here goes nothing.

In 2007 I had taken a trip to Walt Disney World with my six year old son. It was our first family vacation since my husband had passed way, and so I wanted to make sure this vacation was as memorable and fun as possible for my son. My son's favorite movie at the time was 'Pirates of the Caribbean' and as a result we spent many hours in Fantasy Land. Time after time my son insisted on returning to the Pirates of the Caribbean ride, each time he seemed more eager than the last.

I know, what a generic thing to talk about in a story like this, as stories about creepy dolls were shared around to death, but hey, surely someone on here will be interested in what I am talking about as I have something similar to share.

I prefer not to speak about the days I worked for Coca-Cola. However, I feel it is my duty to reveal the sick secrets of this wicked corporation. They were willing to torment people, use them as puppets, torture them, and even take their lives, just to assure their business stayed on top.

Everyone always says there not real there just a figure of your imaginations fairytales they say, but I know they exist I've never seen them, but I've felt their presence, eyes looking through the window staring, observing almost as if taking notes of humanity itself. The feeling was unreal almost as if it made me at ease. I was once one of them the non-believers I had thought it was dumb to believe in something you couldn't see it was like believing in unicorns or the end of the rainbows.

Hi my name is Anna Johnson I live in Brazil and go to Westville High not many people know me, I don't interact much but, because of that I met my best friend Catherine she was the complete opposite of me she would invite me to parties and I would usually say no cause I was scared but my life isn't boring especially since I have my high school crush with me Logan Walker.

My fiancée, Robert, had gone to his best friend Lewis’ house for a night of gaming and movies. You know, Guy’s Night In. I personally imagine a lot of manly grunting and crude jokes. Anyway, at around 5 pm he kissed me and said goodbye. I spent most of the evening working on my art. Drawing commissions are a pain because usually, what inspires my client is usually one of the things that turns my creative wheels the least.

For the tenth time that day, Lucy's phone rang. She knew that, because she had been counting. And for the tenth time that day, Lucy ignored the shrill sounds of the phone. She didn't much care for it, it was if anything annoying and too persistent for her taste. What she had learned, was that persistence got you killed. Much like curiosity. And she would be giving into both those things if she were foolish enough to answer the phone.

Editor's note: The following pages were found on the laptop of Elena K., a doctoral student at the Art History Institute in Zurich, who has been missing since March 14th. Her advisor passed the file on to us with the request to publish it — maybe someone recognizes something, maybe someone comes forward. We have changed nothing in the text. The image related to her notes is shown above. Please look at it while you read, for better understanding. Aside from this file, only one other thing was…

Eric, my precious little boy. Just look at those precious eyes! They're big and bulging out of their sockets, staring in opposite directions. He has such a nice face—sure, he's missing a nose, but there's nothing wrong with that. Now, look at that wide smile and those white, clean teeth. I helped brush them yesterday; don’t they look nice? They look nice to me!

For my niece's sixth birthday I bought her a Barbie doll. She loved dolls and stuffed animals, and loved playing pretend with them even more. Whenever I stopped by my sister's house I could always hear my niece playing with her toys, speaking to them as if she was having a wonderful conversation and would sometimes make her dolls talk back.

I’m pretty sure most people have heard of the Appalachian Mountains. That place is a hotspot for unsettling encounters, yes, I know, how cliché, but yes, I found this location there while visiting the place for some sightings I wanted to capture and upload to YouTube.

Its been 6 hours since I sent my message. Seen, but no reply. Something must have happened. Maybe he’s hurt? It’s not unlikely that he tripped and hit his head. His apartment is a mess after all. I push my chair out, arising  into a panicked loop as I walk a figure eight around my room. My feet kick against bottles and cans, my foot swings and an old pizza box is sent flying, launching stale crusts across the room. Maybe he’s ignoring me? No, of course not. He’s not like that.

I have a fear of heights. My fear is... quite recent and it’s only affected me now. I’m sure that by the end of my little story you’ll find my new found fear quite rational. When I was younger I would love to shimmy up trees or climb up small hills. I liked to explore outside a lot.

There was once a girl, whom I loved dearly…

Do you ever watch other people in the subway? It’s so strange to have to ignore someone who’s right up there in your face. A can of sardines springs to mind, except passengers aren’t joined by a bond of thick oil or brine. Instead, they’re stewing in a miasma of sweat, cologne and annoyance. Everybody absorbed in their own little worlds, warm little cocoons. There, whizzing through the bowels of the city at a brisk clip, you’ll find people reading books, newspapers. Maybe on a Playstation…