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I was a nurse fresh out of my program and eager to start working. After applying to many different hospitals I was accepted by a prestigious private hospital specializing in obstetrics and prenatal care. The hospital was famous for its surrogacy programs and had global reputation of delivering the healthiest and genetically superior babies. I was of course excited and couldn't wait to see my new hospitals and meet my new coworkers.

It was a slow, mild Fall evening. We were sitting in our local Irish pub, The Lion and the Lamb, watching a beautiful young blonde woman on stage. It was karaoke night, and she was singing “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison. The song was mesmerising; her voice was like an angel’s. I suppose that’s how we ended up talking about dreams. “Has anyone been having any strange dreams lately?” asked Selena.I looked at her and the others at my company, pondering the question.

The longitudinal study was conducted to observe what has been regarded as the Final Filter of Civilization among 3-dimensional lifeforms. While preceding observations provided valuable insights for the mechanism, this study considered variables hypothesized to be more relevant.

“Samantha?” I heard Rosalyn ask hopefully as she picked up the phone. I was calling her because she had recently come across an anomalous VHS tape of a man burying a premonition he had written down in my cemetery, convinced that it would one day be of great value to me. She had showed it to me, and I had of course agreed to see if I could find it.

Hazel Petti was the bane of our existence. By "ours", I don't just mean the students at Clara Perkins Elementary School. Everyone in town had a poor opinion of Ms. Petti, presuming they had the unfortunate luck to meet her. Opinions that ranged from mild annoyance to deep-seated hatred. If you ran a nearby business, no matter what kind, you could bet on Ms. Petti paying a visit now and again. Usually for no other reason than to search for a product or practice to get upset about.

I didn’t want to move there. Even now, when I try to remember the first day in that apartment, it feels wrong somehow, like the memory belongs to somebody else and I only inherited it after they disappeared. My father kept calling it “a fresh start” after my mother died, but nothing about that place felt fresh. The building stood at the far end of the city where the streetlights flickered even before sunset and every balcony looked abandoned. The elevator smelled like wet concrete and…

From the moment I closed my eyes to the accident I had gotten myself into, I knew that it would never be the same ever again. Never would I have guessed though, that I would survive pretty much unharmed. Well... that's still a bit of an understatement. My arms and legs work the way they're supposed to. But my mind... not so much anymore. I've started to see things. The world and the people have changed since the moment I woke up. It's almost as if I've entered another world entirely.

I’m kind of scared guys. I’m a journalist at small town newspaper and just received an anonymous envelope containing some kid’s hand written journal. The name on the front cover of the journal has been scratched off, and there are what appears to be some blood stains on the cover and on some of the pages. I don’t know what to make of this journal or its contents yet, but I think something horrible happened to this kid. It seems so surreal and terrifying that something like this could even…

Luneland: Now hiring full-time and part-time cast members. Residence and accommodations onsite. Contact Grace Delacroix in the back office.

Through these old records, I will inform you of the incident that occurred years ago in a small village named Crete. I am a scholar and investigator who will notify you of the research I have gathered about the local college in Crete. I will give the reader a brief overview of the school's origins. Built in the 1760s, the University of Crete became the village's first to offer academic programs. In 1765, it was built as a fully functional institution that the Board of Education authorized. The…

"Are you looking to bring sparkle and pizazz to your life? Are you looking for a brand new ambiance? Well come join us at Shadow Haynes' Circus this Saturday! Watch death defying feats that will simply amaze you! Laugh with the clown acts! See our contortionists, magicians, living statues and more! You won't believe your eyes! Come one, come all!"

A magician came to our town one dreary day after a large thunderstorm. He carried a briefcase that he claimed was filled with people's hopes and dreams. The briefcase was large and wrapped in an exotic coating. Many witnesses described seeing it move under the magician's grasp.

“Come play with me.” That line… it’s a cliché for the horror genre, is it not? You all know what I mean, the unsettling apparition of a child, or maybe just the voice, beckoning to you. What is it about children that gives them the ability to be so damn creepy? Maybe… maybe it’s the fact that, generally speaking, children are helpless and anyone with a nurturing side to their personality wants to help them and care for them. I mean, if any one of us saw a child in trouble, I’m sure we’d rush to…

The term “synthetic drug” refers to a new type of drug on the market that has been created to skirt existing laws on illicit drugs. Thousands of psychoactive compounds are regulated by the law of the Federal Controlled Substances Act. However, in creating synthetic drugs, manufacturers alter the chemical structure of an illegal drug, modifying it to create an “analog” or derivative of that drug, to, essentially, make it quote unquote legal.

I’m posting this tonight in the hope that it will clear up the misunderstandings surrounding the disappearance of Debra Lindsay Caine, at the risk of my personal ridicule. Sticks and stones and all that. None of it will matter after tonight. Consider this my one pathetic attempt at an apology, if nothing else. It’s sort of my fault what happened.

It was just an ordinary night, at least that’s what I originally thought. My mother, my elder brother, and I were in the living room, watching the news while having dinner. It was then that the power suddenly went out.

“It’s going to happen, Jack. Nothing we can do about it. The wheels are already in motion. Higher-ups tell me I need to release the staff by the end of the week.” “Then ‘AM 640 - Talk of the Town’ becomes what, exactly?” Ron sighed. “Another DJ-less, auto-programmed, adult easy listening station.” “Aww, Christ on a bike,” I said. “They’re stealing the soul of this industry. Our Arbitron numbers grew last ratings cycle.”

This story is inspired by SCP-096 created by Dr Dan, and takes place in the SCP Foundation universe. The cover image was created by dekades8 on DeviantArt and edited by me. Yeah, hey, I don’t know where this will go. If this goes through anywhere, then I guess I got lucky. one. Last. TIME. If you’re reading this, don’t go looking for what I saw. I mean that. Don't look at its face, and this means no photo will be attached.

I’m closing up for the night when I get the call: Aunt Cynthia’s been in a car accident, a bad one.  Her back’s broken.  Uncle Dan’s disabled too, so he’s reluctantly asking everyone in the family to come out and help if they can. I can. The next day I cash in my vacation time, load up my head-turning 2009 Chevy Impala, and hit the road on a cross-country trip from New Hampshire to Uncle Dan’s place out near Vegas.  I don’t like flying.

Outlaws sucked. It was just another shithole bar in Columbus, Georgia. One of many I might add. Not that I was an expert given I wasn’t much for the party scene. This college student struggled to meet friends, much less find girls who wanted to talk to me. I had no wingman after all. No one to go out with.