Best rated stories

It started with a whisper faintly appearing on the wind. ‘Psst.’ Larineth glanced around the field she was in, and after not seeing anyone, she went back to her task: picking the most beautiful flowers she could find and laying them in a basket. Today was her birthday, and she had proudly told anyone that she met that she was turning nine years old today, and soon she would be an adult just like them. ‘Psst.’

I'm a rabbi, so you can imagine the kinds of conversation I have when I counsel my congregants. Family troubles. Marital strife. And sometimes, theology. The other day, one of my congregants―a young, sensitive woman with hair almost black and eyes just as dark―came in to see me. She was in the midst of a crisis of faith. "If only God would speak to me, or give me some kind of sign…," she was saying.

You think you understand the whole system? Read again. The door only sticks sometimes, but it always opens when I need it to. I noticed it first during the rainy season when the air felt heavier and everything in the house took longer to settle. The wood swelled a little, I think. It pressed into the frame and made the handle feel tighter than usual. Most people would panic at that. They would force it. Shake the handle. And make a scene out of something that just needs time.

You know my name by now; I don’t want to keep starting my posts like this, but... if you are new regardless, the name is Jay. After the L.P.I. incident and the death of Crane, there was something I found when I came back to Super Nintendo World that dated way back before the Junior Playtesting Program experiments. I found something old, something buried underneath layers of dust, rubble, and countless lies. Something I almost missed but am very glad I found it before anyone else threw it away.

The sound of the gentle tapping of the rain on my window awakens me. Just by glancing over at the window I can see the dark autumn sky even though it must still be around noon. Slowly I get up from the couch, I must have dozed off for a minute or so. I walk over to my kitchen to see if there is anything to eat. Opening all the cabinets and finally the freezer, I discover that I'm all out of food. Damn, I forgot, it's grocery day today... and I still have to go out with this shitty weather.

This is a shitty day, it started all kinds of wrong. Maybe I should have paid more attention to the signs. 'Fabrizio, Fabrizio, are you there? Over' The radio started spewing words and ruining my smoke time. 'The fuck do you want, Marcello? Over' 'We are going to move to the north. Enrio saw some little fucks running around a few hours ago, we think there is a horde somewhere. Have you seen anything? Over' 'Nah! Haven't seen any lately, but you never know with those things. Over'

Deep in the core of a dull, lightless city, a man sat alone by a fire. He didn’t know how long the world had been like this, he didn’t remember what it was like before, He only knew that he woke up to this one day. From what he could remember, Just faintly in the back of his mind, the world used to be filled with other people, other faces, but after days of wandering, months of searching, there was no familiar face to see. For now, the only company he had was the fire, and a few cans of beans…

The village of Driftwood Cove sat at the edge of the world—or so it felt. Waves crashed endlessly against jagged cliffs, their spray licking the stones like hungry tongues. The cries of gulls mingled with the low whispers of old sailors' tales, carried on the wind like secrets best left unspoken. Here, the sea ruled everything, its storms a reminder of its unrelenting power, its rare moments of calm a fleeting grace.

If you have ever been in a near-death experience, you may have seen your life "flash" before your eyes. I've asked several people about this. They said that it was like they went through their whole life in a second. That's not too far fetched. Your brain likes to avoid stress, so that it does not have to deal with facing death. So if your brain was to think you were going to die, it would go to the easiest way to escape: memory. So when it comes close to the end, your brain turns on every…

A cry woke me in the middle of the night. It's as if a girl was trying hard to muffle her desperate cries of help so as to keep something from hearing her. My heart started to pound with fear as I was reminded of some scenes from horror films involving creepy, crying ghost girls. I badly wanted to wake my room mate who was sleeping across my bed but it is impossible to wake her up for she is such a heavy sleeper.

I’m always playing the part. Ever since this stupid movie started, the part never really left me. You’re probably confused. Should I bother explaining? Honestly, all you’ll do is ridicule me. Oh well. All the people I would confide in aren’t exactly… around. If you have a few minutes, I can tell you a story that will drive you crazy. Trust me, I mean that.

“As Mark Twain famously never said; buy moons – they’re not making more of them,” the spryly old man said as he fanned out brochures advertising Lunar Real Estate in front of me. Orville’s Old-Fashioned Oddity Outlet was one of Sombermorey’s more infamous tourist traps, shelling out all manner of alleged paranormal paraphernalia. Whether it was clairvoyant goggles, haunted paintings, or possessed Halloween masks, you were guaranteed to find something out of the ordinary whenever you stopped in.

After it all happened, I could never explain just what about the little wooden jewelry box had caught my eye. It was simple and unornamented. When questioned about what was inside it, Maggie, the antique shop’s keeper, hesitated before speaking. “That’s a collection of old silver, mostly jewelry and coins.” I nodded. “So a few thousand dollars, I suppose?” I went to put the box back.

The old Kaymoore’s residence sat empty along Route 7, miles from town. It was a dreary night, the sky releasing an unrelenting mist when an officer was dispatched to check on the decrepit home. Officer Dawson walked up to the two story home, taking in the dark frame and vine-covered siding.

Why does conflict happen most often with those we’re the closest with? You would think that because we love our family, friends, and colleagues so much that we’d understand each other enough that conflict wouldn’t be necessary. But now I realize that because we show each other our vulnerabilities and flaws is why most major conflict occurs. With strangers, people are reluctant to open up to them and try to actively avoid conflict constantly, unlike with those we know all too well. When I was…

Elizabeth Dappa had grown tired of the radically unhealthy city life, so she hopped in her car and drove a day’s time to her old hometown in Utah. Her grandfather’s home was still in the family, so securing it as her temporary quarters was easy enough to do. Standing in front of the sprawling farmhouse, she looked to her left and then to her right. She could see the faint twinkle of the neighbor’s farmhouse, some many miles away, she was alone; not cramped into a little box that shared walls…

“You wanted to see us, Director Mason?” researcher Luna Valdez asked, her voice as composed as she could make it and her hands clasped politely behind her back, her seemingly ever-present security attaché Joseph Gromwell standing protectively at her side. Director Mason knew that if he ever put Luna in harm's way, Joseph would be the one he’d be answering to.

As I wandered through the park once more, walking towards the circus, I could feel a sense of dread boiling from within me, it felt as if a thousand eyes were watching me, staring into the back of my soul as I wandered towards what felt like certain doom, the feeling of fear and despair only growing as I saw the big top tent in the distance, and saw the abandoned trailers that seemed to surround me from all sides, with crates and hay bales stacked against them. I could feel myself shaking as I…

I really like Mario games, and I still do to this day. I have so much love for everything in the games, but the Mario game I enjoyed the most was 'Luigi’s Mansion.' That game freaked me out at times, but it was very enjoyable to play, and it’s really cool to hear about it now after first seeing it.

A single unfinished opera entitled 'The Matinee of the Damned' is an incomplete and cursed piece of music that has plagued the eyes, ears and hearts of those who bear witness to this piece and has taken the lives of those who dare to try and finish the ballad.