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The night was dark. The only light emitted into the tiny bedroom was from the door that stood slightly ajar. The room was clean for a four year old little boy. There weren't any toys covering the floor and no clothes thrown about the room. The little boy slept soundly; light snores could be heard coming deep from within his chest. His arm twitched fervently, but became still after a few seconds. The sound of his breathing rang out across the silent room.

“Pretty Penny: The American Slit-Mouth Woman” Ohio can be a frightening place, with scary legends jumping out from around nearly every dark rural corner. Some though remain extremely obscure, and deserve perhaps a second look. In a true case of east meets west I give you Pretty Penny, America’s own Slit Mouth Woman.

I am not feeling like myself anymore. I used to feel great whenever I did things for people. You know? But here lately, something inside just does not feel the same anymore. Even when I help others, it just leaves me empty and dead inside. I can’t explain it. I feel like a walking corpse, just void of happiness and any emotion. It’s like there are two people living inside me, the person that wants to help others, and the other person that just wants to watch the world suffer. Sometimes these…

A twenty something years old man enters a cafeteria. White skin, maybe a bit too skinny, straight unkempt hair, a beard of a few days, and bloodshot brown eyes. He was dressed with a blue shirt, blue jeans, and black shoes. The young man looked around and then walked to the furthest table in the corner and sat down in front of an older man. The older man lowers his cell phone and looks up to the young man. “What do you want, kid?”

As I sat on my couch watching a movie on the television, I found it difficult to concentrate. The noisy neighbors upstairs were at it again. I’m not sure exactly what they were doing, whether they were moving furniture, playing football, or tag. Who knows? All I know is that it was a considerable amount of noise and it needed to stop. My roommate mini came out of her room, frustrated, “Uggh!” she exclaimed, “They’re at it again?”

Sitting in the back seat of a station wagon, two sisters, ages 6 and 8 start bickering. One won't scoot over, the other is making annoying sounds. Typical car ride for this family. The parents up front try ignoring the children, but soon enough it gets to be too intolerable. "Girls, be quiet and look out your windows." Snapped their mom.

Jack’s head shot up off the pillow and his eyes stared meaninglessly into the infinite darkness, temporarily forgetting where he was. His heart beat fast and he was gasping for air as if he had just finished a marathon. The inexplicable exhaustion overwhelmed him even though he just woke up from a feelingly long sleep.

Death comes for us all. The intricate design of Death's web spares no one. It is the inevitable reality we all face someday, some sooner than others. But not all of us are unwary of our demise. Not all of us are fortunate enough to live in blissful ignorance, unaware of our own mortality. But once you are caught in the web, like a hapless fly watching as a spider descends upon it, you will see how finite life is. For as easy as life is granted, it can just as easily be taken away.

The whistle is considered one of the happiest sounds on earth by many. I'm not one of those people. I hate the sound of whistling. Another thing I hate is the tune of "Oh, Susanna." I can't bare to hear the two combined. Not after that night.

An average Saturday, the clear skies of the day fade into the abyss that is night. On many occasions this wouldn't be a problem at all, but tonight, you feel scared. Frantically looking in car windows as you walk for something you know isn't there, any sound cursed at your ear. You want to go home. As you walk down the sidewalk on the way to your house, the creepy vibe you feel grows, as does your fear. You look to a parking lot to see what looks like chalk, but only one word. It reads…

A boy named John Smith who was very fond of scary emails and pop-ups. Every day, he would find new ones and post them to everyone he knew. He even started making some himself and sending them to strangers. He loved to scare people on the Net.

Eli fell to the ground and the mud shot into the air and rained back down upon him. A thin layer of this brown liquid covered him from head to toe. He hoped and prayed this masquerade would help him escape. He lifted his head from the puddle and tried to slow down his labored breaths. The guards that were chasing him were nowhere to be found and he didn't hear any talking or crunching of twigs under someones feet. Was he really free? Was this it? The moon hung high in the sky and once he felt…

The following is an account of events that took place in the late summer of 2001. I can neither confirm nor deny its validity. It was recounted to me by my Brother-in-law, who disappeared in the summer of 2008.

When I was 6, everything was simple. Just like any other 6 year old's life. Although, there was this time when… Well, I actually don’t know what happened. It was a June 13th, 1999. It was cold, even though it was summer. I was alone in my basement playing my Gameboy with one of those plug-in light attachments. Nothing really out of the ordinary, until it started to rain. In fact, it was a rather big storm. I was in the basement, while my parents were upstairs, when the lights flickered. At the…

I know you're not going to believe me, but I've decided that I don't care at this point. I need to get this out. Whether you believe me or not, this has to get out.

"Have you heard about the Fowl Faced Killer? Apparently, there's been a string of serial killings all over the country that link back to a guy that wears a leather bird mask. The murders all occur within the last three months. According to investigators, the majority of the victims are chosen at random, the others were witnesses to his crimes.

I was around 8 at the time, when I was told to go to bed at 8:00 pm. My parents would just watch TV whilst I'm in bed until midnight. I was very obedient at the time as well, the only reason I would get out of bed after 8:00 is to either grab some water or head to the bathroom. However, that was only until that night when I was too scared to even do both of those things.

It was a dark and rainy day in February when I was hit by a small red pick up. February 15th. I was told I flew 15 feet before landing smack on my head. Apparently the driver was drunk and didn't see me crossing. I don’t remember that day at all.

I guess I won’t escape the water on this spring evening. As rain pounds on me with the rhythm of an icy waterfall, the pain of the cold is warming me more than my nightgown ever could. The warmth of my breath fights through the bitter darkness of the evening only to be beaten back by the unrelenting frigidity of the wind at my face. Perhaps the warmness of the gulf would radiate just enough to find some comfort in this depressing storm.

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.