Most favorited stories

Call me tasteless but I enjoyed running Southern Fried Murder. Growing up, I loved horror movies, especially slashers, but as I got older I became more drawn to true crime… To the real life monsters walking among us. Like most people, I was initially drawn to the sensationalized Bundys and Dahmers of the world but the local cases scared me more. I became more intrigued by the murders and vicious crimes that happened in my neck of the woods here in the American South. These were also the crimes…

I watched as my father coughed and wheezed himself into an early grave. Every breath sounded as though his lungs were densely packed with small stones. He lay on the floor, naked aside from a thin blanket, and did only two things: cough and sleep. By spring, he had found his way deep within the West Virginia earth. My daddy was a coal miner, like his daddy, and his daddy before him.

In the early morning my liquored mind found sleep. It wasn’t restful, but drowning and cruel, as if my own body resented me for finding a moment of respite. I woke after what felt like hours, but found it to be only a few minutes since sprawling across the old, stained couch. I sat upright, and felt my legs protest to yet stand. I thought it better to find the Marlboro man tucked inside the pocket of my pearl snap shirt- the pack crumpled from my restless crash. My hands shakily flicked the…

My friends and I have a hideout, hidden away from all the annoying adults in our lives. It’s a secret place only we know of and it’s really well hidden! There are days we come here and days we don’t come here, because we really don’t want our parents to know. It’s a small, low hut in the middle of the woods close by.

December 10th, 1935. The sound of the aggressive wind blowing the rigged trees to bend like wire.  Little snowflakes drop on the green grass to cover them in nothing but pure white frost, a wooden cabin lives beyond the woods. The roof was drowned in snow, ice sickles hang from the side. A man named Frank Williams and his boy John Williams lives in the wooden cabin in the woods. Frank Williams used to live in the town of Tapperson, where he owned a carpenter shop, selling his handmade furniture…

The sound of the rain was calming, but only the rain. Walking in the mud, making that squishy sound, as I take one step at a time. Looking around, the tree's length was high, the leaves covering the night sky, shaking  aggressively from the wind. The flashlight could only give so much light,  I could see, but only a couple feet from me. The rest, darkness. “JAKE!” I yelled, “JAAAKE! COME BOY!” Jake was the only reason I was out in this shithole, just trying to head back home from our little…

The year 1985, a year of the things that brought us joy, a year that life was really going somewhere, a year that Dads were Dads, Moms were Moms, children were in process of life, plenty of time to grow. A year most can agree was amazing, but for some, 1985 was the year that turned me into a mad man, my mind tricking from my left and right, but I think I know what I saw.  I was only 12, I lied about where I went. Places that should have been, the school, friends house, ect.  Only instead to…

College was supposed to be more fun. Especially considering how lame high school was for a quiet geek like me. These were supposed to be the best years of my life but so far, they'd been far from it. It was more of the same alienation I’d felt in high school. I don’t know, I guess I could only hope grad school would be better. Maybe if I went to a bigger university or moved to an actual college town with lots of culture, things would be different.

By WedgeOverPotato

In truth I've always known that the house I live in is haunted. The soft sounds of soft footsteps when you're home alone, the whispers when the house is empty... You know all the signs. All have been told before already after all. We were just lucky that it never got worse than that, yes sometimes small objects would have been placed elsewhere, but we never got the feeling that we were dealing with something that was dangerous or angry. So we just let it be, whatever it was.

I lived in an old cabin in the middle of the forest, a place far from people and noise, which was exactly what I longed for. I didn't like being among people or hearing loud voices, so I only went to town to buy food and a few supplies, then I'd return straight to my quiet cabin. Solitude comforted me, and I found everything I needed in the embrace of nature.

The second event

It's loud and crowded in the office today. I don't know why, but honestly I don't really care and just continue with my work. Suddenly someone taps me on my shoulder and I look up. It's Jimmy, one of my colleagues. I quickly look away again, ignoring him and continuing my work. "Hey, I want to talk to you about something." "Sure." He sighs, seemingly annoyed about my answer: "It's something I would rather discuss in private."

In the early years of social media, there was a cult following or I’d prefer to say secret society of fast food coinsures. We’d scowler message boards and chat rooms to find the most iconic or rarest off menu foods, or better referred to today as “secret menu” items. When I first learned about this trend I was immediately hooked, I mean who wouldn’t be. At the time these were the first internet scavenger hunts that pushed in to the real world. And at the end of it all, you would either try the…