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I awoke to the sound of dripping water, it was coming from somewhere in the kitchen, the open door just a few feet away. The smell hit me, just as pungent as it was when I went to sleep. My eyes started to water at the pure concentration of the odor, and the nausea set in. How long had it been since I arrived here? A week? A month? It sure felt like forever, but time was useless for me, since I knew however long it had been wouldn’t affect how long it would be until I could leave.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been suspended in the room. I couldn't remember the last time light had elucidated these claustrophobic confines, nor exactly when I realized I was trapped within them. Vague outlines surrounded the silhouettes of objects filling the room, slightly blurred and perfectly still. These things themselves were not strange, but when I saw them, my mind whispered dissimulation: "This is a dream." And as I listened to it, figures of shadow formed within the depths light…

As the fire of the crimson candle flickered and danced... The darkness moved with the candlelight. I sat watching the darkness of the night outside. For I watched the starless night down to my driveway. There at the end of the driveway was a single lamppost stood tall, a creature covered head to toe in black, darkness, and shadows.... The only thing I could see of this creature was its eyes of amber glow. Then the light of the lamppost flickered and shuttered as it broke with a loud 'CRACK!'

Master, please wake up. Everything will be okay. I'll just lay here next to you. Too bad you wouldn't teach me how to use the phone. I saw how to use it on TV.  You said I wasn't allowed to touch it, so I won't. I'll be a good boy.

"Hello everyone" Rene greets after opening the door and putting the key in his pocket. "Hi Rene" Elina returns the greeting. Randy is playing at something on the computer. Erick is in the kitchen. "What are you cooking?" asks Rene. "Squid. They were on sale." "Smells good." Rene approves and continues toward his room. He runs into Freddy in the hallway. "How was everything today?" "The usual, Fred, the usual. Marcos?" "He's in his room, writing, don't bother him, you know how he gets."

I spend most of my time at the park with just my thoughts. I find it peaceful and comforting; except the eyes by the tree. At first I thought the man was just like me, he loved coming to the park because it’s quiet, almost too quiet. But every day, he seemed to be staring at me more intently and it discomforts me. The day before, I was watching the news and it depicted a murderer who preys on teenagers. The murderer looked exactly like the man at the park; it really ticked me off provocatively.

They used to tell stories about a man named Eddie Garnet. They say he was the only one to every rise from the dead since Jesus Christ himself. They never said anything about him being a savior or a messiah. In fact it was just the opposite. Eddie grew up with our parents. At first he was no different from anyone else. Like Daddy would say, “He put his pants on one leg at a time.” I never understand that saying because in my mind why would anyone do it differently.

In the blood-warm waters of dream There is a place A forest. In the center, a calm, frozen stream gleams in the moonlight Tall trees stand infinitely on all sides You cannot leave You have no desire to. It is dark Blurred streaks of blues and greens run seamlessly through the forest You know that there is a reason For this imprisonment each night The forest wants something from you. A thick silence Gentle wind softly brushes your face Leaves bristle in anticipation

It’s not often that I tell this story, and I don’t much like telling it either, but it seems to get a little easier every time I do. The memories that I have of that night don’t even seem real to me. To this day I can’t wrap my head around how such a thing could have happened to me. I never saw it coming. I mean, how could I be in one place, then suddenly be in another? It happened faster than a lighting strike and it happened faster than a finger snap.

Every school has their little weirdos. Some more than others, but us weirdos gotta stick together. Back in the fifth grade my buddy Tim got a lot of shit. Not like the kid dressed weird or anything, but he was just the kid that had a target on his back. We'd be out in the field flying around in space ships or fighting off a mob of samurai. He was the best at playing swords and stuff though.

It all started with my neighbors’ dog. Their pet corgi, Suzie, was the first to start acting strange. She stopped playing and barking at passers-by like she normally did. She became standoffish to her owners, spending most of her time sitting in the corner. Then, one day, Suzie was gone. A hole was dug under my neighbors’ backyard fence with tufts of red hair lodged in the fence’s boards being the only sign of her. They searched the neighborhood, put up flyers, and offered rewards, but Suzie…

I’m sure you all have heard the tales about the trucker who was driving late at night and stopped to pick up a woman on the side of the road and the woman turns out to be a ghost. Right? Well, I’ve got a story for you that trumps that one.

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.

“Life is often just an interim between nightmares.”

“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…

10:00 A.M. (Tuesday Morning)

A dream of pale, flesh colored thread. I blinked back the darkness encompassing my vision, revealing again the dusty room we had been biding our time in. I must've fallen asleep, and the Sun was now dead, the window revealing night blanketed over the countryside. The moonlight casted shadows of corpses of forests and dead verdure, the sheets of snow reflecting the light with a strange sheen.

You never thought your life would come down to this, a choice between your heart and your life. Your heart is pounding in your chest like it's trying to make up for years of beats that it may never know, and every breath has an amazing taste, as if the air itself had a flavor. You can hear the waves of the lake, though it's at least five miles outside of town, or is it the blood in your ears that you're hearing, each crash of the waves matching the samba beat of your faltering heart. This must…