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Danny was a necrophiliac, that was no secret to him.

You’re not going to believe what happened to me. I was alone at an unusually long red light at about 3 o'clock. I swear the traffic light wasn't staying red by coincidence. Anyway, I was sitting there thinking about how busy my day will be tomorrow when a knock on my driver’s side window made me jump. After I turned to see what it was, my heart skipped a beat. The nuisance was a kid of about 15 yrs old who was wearing entirely black. What really startled me however were his eyes. They were as…

From: —— @ —— .com Re: entries/information requested re: compiling psychological profile Written below are the journal entries of Christopher Young, brother of Daryl Young, found saved as individual files on his personal computer, with file names Prologue.doc, Ch1.doc, Ch2.doc, etc. Apart from being compiled into one document, they have not been altered in any way. — Prologue

I live in a small town in upstate South Carolina. Nothing much happens here, so it seems with every story’s beginning. Nevertheless, it’s normal... right? I mean, the most spectacular thing that’s ever happened here was probably when there was a new stop sign put up near Deerfield, or perhaps after the Masons started up a new church. Not much I guess. My neighbourhood is pretty quiet. I guess it’s because there was no other kids around but me. I don’t really mind it though, besides, I’m a…

I was enjoying the quiet until she started screaming.

I'm a surgeon. Now, I've seen my fair share of strange medical events, But one event that I saw still haunts me to this day.

I woke up like I would every other time I tried to sleep; Drenched in sweat, shivering, afraid to go back to sleep. I have this recurring dream about something to do with static. I can't quite remember exactly what happens though. I glance over at my clock, it read 3:00 am. I sigh attempting to release all my bad thoughts out of my mind. I hop out of bed as quickly as possible —too afraid to go back to that dream— and scurry over to the bathroom mirror. ‘My bags have gotten worse,’ I thought…

I stirred from deep within my sleep, unsure of what had woken me, but too tired to put any further thought into it. The mist of an unfinished dream swam around my head, distorted and fading with every second.

12/02/11

If you are reading this, turn your lights off before you continue. They are attracted to light because they know someone is alive in the room.

It was times like these, when I wished I could just run away and never look back. I wanted to scream, but I only could cry internally from all the stress that came from my family. My father and my stepmother always go at each other’s neck like a couple of lions fighting over a piece of meat. There is no peace, sometimes I wish, I could crawl into a hole and never come out of it. I desperately pray to God that every day would at least get a little better, but it never does. Nothing never gets…

I huffed and puffed under my breath as I stared into God’s Mouth. I felt like the Big Bad Wolf ready to interrupt the innocent little pigs as they hurriedly fortified their makeshift homes. I grinned at this thought and then turned my head to look for Margaret. She was a couple of feet down the hill from the entrance of the cave, holding a walking stick close to her petite breasts. “Hurry up!” I called down to her. I turned back to the cave, still grinning. An old, rotted sign outside read…

It was another cold night that night. I remember it vividly. Mostly due to the fact that out here you have to be alert at all times. My name is Sergeant Johnson, and at the time I was deployed at a remote outpost in the Warduj Valley. This valley is known for its high level of insurgent activity in the Warduj District, Badakhshan Province, Afghanistan. I was deployed for seven months, and I have to say the toughest thing, other than the usual rocket attacks, was missing my new wife back home.…

We were told to stay clear of the well. Most of the time, we did. No one knew why, and no one cared. Down Innsmote Road, the long abandoned row of crumbling houses on the way to school, it lay beneath the shade of a droopy branched willow, in front of the old Leibowitz house. The house itself had fallen down years ago. The expansive section was now consumed in thick weeds and wild flowers, but we seldom played there. We didn't like being amongst the derelict homes and the decaying foundations,…

Okay, look, I didn’t think I would ACTUALLY see him. Not really. I mean, you read about the shadow people and sleep paralysis stuff all the time and “Hat Man” being this thing that stands in the corner of your room. It’s one of those things people would swear is real until it happens to you, and even then, you’re supposed to brush it off. It was often chalked up to brain misfire, half-dreaming, and stress. That’s what I told myself anyway.

My hands tremble as I type this. I apologize for any mistakes I might make, but I don’t have much time. To be honest, I’ll be lucky to finish, but before it’s too late, I need to warn you. All of you.

I laid in bed last night unable to sleep. I tossed and turned, for hours, trying to focus on falling asleep. My eyes closed and breathing slowly and deeply; Still, sleep never came. As I laid there, wrestling with the wake demon, searching endlessly for the sandman, I was frustrated with my inability to pass into the dreamland.

This story happened to me, my best friend, Alya, and one of our friends, Dylan. Please note that every name used here, including mine, is fake. They are made-up names to protect the real people.

Two years ago my family and I left Earth on an experimental mission.

It’s been three years since the day I fled from that abandoned building and discovered the truth about the hanging shadow glitch in Luigi’s Mansion, witnessing that disturbing cutscene. I haven’t been able to sleep at all recently. For those wondering, yes, it was me—the original person who wrote about the shadow.