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It was may 25th, 2005. me and my daughter Charlotte was heading to the park. she wanted to play on the play ground. i told here go ahead and that i’d watch from the bench. she went off and played with other kids. My neighbor and my daughter’s friends mom came to talk to me. we talked. i looked away from charlotte for 2 seconds…..i wish i hadn’t looked away…..i go to turn to see how charlotte was..but s..she was gone. omg i was so scared, i kept yelling her name “Charlotte! Charlotte sweetie…

I saw them. My family’s cows, floating up into the pale white light. I was looking out my window at the time, it was night and I was the only one awake. Father had claimed he had locked the barn, but again more of the poor creatures where taken. They had been going missing, one by one, for a while now. My family had installed camera’s, but nothing was ever caught, just another cow disappearing into thin air every night.

Starting this blog because I don't know where else to put this. I've spent the last few weeks going through case files that keep showing up in different countries, different years, no obvious connection between them. Police never cross-referenced any of it. I think I know why now. If any of this sounds familiar to you, message me. I need to know I'm not the only one who's noticed the pattern.

A cold snowflake greets the warm skin of my face, melting immediately. I ignore the sensation and look forward instead, just like the rest of my group. “Holy shit! The legends did have some truth in them!” Jess yells over the howling wind. David shakes his head: “I’ve been telling you this a thousand times! This is the whole reason for this expedition.” He can’t contain his excitement. I look at the snow-covered ruins.

The Doorman

(Inspired by the Dyatlov Pass Incident) The wind started howling before midnight. At first, it was just another sound in the endless white silence of the mountains. The nine hikers had heard worse. They were trained, experienced—people who didn’t panic easily. Inside the tent, frost clung to the fabric like a second skin. Someone laughed softly, trying to lighten the mood. Another adjusted their boots. Then— It came.

It's 11:11, a time for a wish as nightly thoughts dip into the dark abyss... Nightly Thoughts are wishes and dreams written with a dark red ink... Nightly Thoughts are poems left to rot, during the moonlit night... Nightly Thoughts are stories no one reads during the morning light... Nightly Thoughts is our artwork made with ink and dried rose petals... It's 12:12, a time for a wish, to dream of far-off lands and space that no one dares to face....

Hey guys, my name is Martin. I got something to get off my chest, something that has been clawing at me since it happened. It has changed my life and I was so damn lucky to get out of it, let alone Scott free! I was only 15 when it happened, I lived in the bad side of Chicago, a place that is so crime ridden, corrupt, and destroyed, that the Police won't drive here unless they muster up the courage or they just have to. Our house was the thing that stood out the most from my memory. It was a…

The room smells like stale iron and wet earth, but I don’t complain. I haven’t complained since the funeral.

“Hey sweetie, are you gonna open your eyes for me now?” I heard his voice. It was all sweet and nice, making my stomach feel sick. His hands were on my shoulder, squeezing slightly, shaking them side to side. I could feel a groan pass my lips and my eyes struggled to unstick themselves. “Yeah! There we go, I'm sorry about that special candy, I guess you're just a little bit smaller than the dose is made for.” He laughed, it's a quiet, airy laugh, making my stomach tighten again. I blinked,…

“Aww, Mervin, did you break Daddy’s wine bottle?” Emily was washing dishes when she heard the sound of the bottle shattering. “It was Ed, not me!” insisted Mervin. Emily knew there was no way the three-year-old could open the middle shelf of the cupboard yet. Mervin had turned six last month, and he was just tall enough to reach it. “Now, now, I already know it was you. I saw you playing with the cupboard handles. Don’t try to blame this on your little brother,” said Emily.

The heavy mahogany door clicked shut, sealing out the relentless autumn drizzle. Ashley leaned back against it, exhaling a breath she felt she’d been holding all evening. The wedding reception had been a blur of champagne flutes, blinding flashbulbs, and well-meaning relatives. Now, finally, it was just her and Dave.

For three days after I found the rabbit, nothing else had happened. That frightened me more than the noises had. The woods had gone quiet. Not truly quiet. The birds still called in the mornings. Cicadas screamed from the trees in the afternoon. At night, the frogs took over the creek. But the other sounds stopped. No howls. Not footsteps beneath my window. No knocking against the walls. Nothing watched from the pasture either. Nothing moved in the tree line.

They tell you nostalgia is a warm blanket. They lie. Nostalgia is a rotting canvas, and the paint never quite dried.

Have You Ever Had A Sibling That You Couldn't Stand All The Time And You Wish They Would Go Away Completely,Well Let Me Just Say That Wish May Seem Good At First,And Now Years Later I Regret Making That Wish,When I Was Kid I Had A Little Sister Named Abby Who Was An Absolute Pest Who Gotten Away With Many Things Due To My Parents Favoring Her Over Me,At The Time I was 13 and She Was 7,Being 7 Abby Would Always Cause Things To Make Me Mad By Going Into My Room And Taking My Things,She Would…

Time has forced my hand to finally publish these truths. Other men of science plan to go where I have been, and I cannot let them witness what my colleagues and I have. I only regret coming out with the truth now— many years after our expedition —but even more do I regret doing this to my comrades without consulting them. I hope all of you can forgive me.

I still can’t sleep with the basement door shut. Even three years later, every time the house settles, I find myself staring at the handle, half-expecting it to slowly turn.

He had no idea how he had ended up in these foul depths, but all he knew was that he needed to find a way out before it was too late. The young Dragonnoid had sworn to himself he would never go into the city, so why was he wandering lost in its forsaken bowels?

No one remembers her name. Her real name anyway. She was a girl once- a regular girl, a good girl- who worked as a harlequin for her family's tiny traveling show. She had a white painted face, with a happy painted red smile. Jolly jinglin' shoes, and bright purple-dyed pigtails that bobbed comically as she capered about on the stage of some, now long-fallen kingdom. She made nobles and peasants alike laugh.

“Sir, we found a body!” I trailed toward the frantic yelling of my Assistant Officer. “Jesus Christ, the smell is unbearable!” The living quarters reeked heavily of thick rot and sharp iron. The overwhelmingly pungent odor hit me like a physical wall, forcing me to step out of the room immediately to catch my breath. “What are we thinking?” I asked, steadying myself before stepping back into the doorway. “What do you mean, Sir?” My Assistant Officer shot me a genuinely puzzled look.