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I’m usually a ‘take things slow’ kind of girl, but there was something about her in the bar that night. I was sitting at a table in the back, watching my friends’ coats and purses while they were out on the dance floor. This was my usual role, and I suspected it was the only reason they still invited me out.

Last time we discussed the Not-human hypothesis, and since then, a discovery has been made that has been linked to these ancient humanoids. Though this one is rather unique, as it shows us how Neolithic and Paleolithic humans might have viewed and interacted with them.

We all make mistakes. It just takes one, little mistake, and everything will be over. I won’t let that happen this time.

Cheap masks and Halloween themed clothing were the only ‘costumes’ at the Sprucer Halloween Festival. People in barely decorated Trunk-or-Treat trunks shoved canned food and/or random secondhand objects into kids’ hands. The ‘craft stations’ were several ancient fold-out tables someone had covered in literal trash.

I'm a total Sonic the Hedgehog fan much like everyone else, I like the newer games, but I don't mind playing the classics. I don't think I've ever played glitchy or hacked games before, though I don't think I want to play any after the experience I had...

After moving to a small town in southern Michigan I got a job as a cashier in the local store. After work I would walk home to my small house and order a small pizza. This was my routine for two weeks when things took a strange turn. I called in my usual order to the pizzeria when a new voice, one I hadn't heard before answer the phone and told me "The usual? No problem. I'll deliver it in less than five minutes."

I was always afraid of the lunch lady when I was a kid.  I don't know why; maybe it was the toxic stench of her breath, or the dead look in her eyes, or the unkempt hairs dangling off her chin.  No matter what the reason was, my palms grew sweaty and my heart pounded every time I passed her in the lunch line.  I never felt quite at ease until I had left the cafeteria, and even then I still was worried I would catch sight of her in the hallway between classes.

I cannot tell you when it all began. I have always been plagued by sleep paralysis. I have somewhat learned to deal with it, to recognise it for what it is and wait it out. It always begins with the need to yawn or speak, but my mouth is shut tight. I then try to sit bolt upright, but my arms and body are clamped down to the bed. Sometimes my eyes are open. Sometimes I see things.

Flat on my back, I wake in total darkness. Where am I? What the hell happened to me? It's so hard to remember... Was I driving?

After college my boyfriend and I went our separate ways and I moved into an apartment that I could more easily afford on my own. It was one of those modern apartment complexes with paper-thin walls (and apparently floors), a cookie-cutter layout, and minimal landscaping. Despite their bright white sterility, my rooms decorated up nicely and most of the other inhabitants of Greenfield Court were good, kind people. My only real complaint was my downstairs neighbor. The elderly man who lived…

In a small town like Woodsburrow, a mall opening up is a big thing. The whole town generally gets in on the whole ordeal and rumors of all kinds begin to spread about the building both good and bad and the new owner is usually the main target of these rumors more often than none. This time was no exception especially when the owner was a tall crooked kind of man with greying skin that hung loosely from a boney frame. The most striking feature however, were the man’s yellow eyes that seemed to…

I was 15 years old during the weekend in June when everything would change. My mum had decided to skip town to visit her distant family, as she felt that she had earned a break. Nothing unusual about the decision to just up and leave as she often goes to visit 'the other side' as she called it. She'd either visit her parents – a part of the family that I actually enjoy seeing – who occupy a modest cottage up in the hills of some English countryside; or if she was feeling tolerant, she would…

It started about a year and a half ago. I was on the internet reading about Libya, Gaddafi and the Arab Spring when I felt a sensation on the back of the neck. At first it was just a slight itch but it progressively became more and more intense. It felt as if a little itty bitty ant was crawling up and down the back of my neck. The only way to stop it was to slap the back of my neck. Sometimes it felt like it was burrowing into my skin. Once it burrowed in, I had to itch it away or else it…

In the winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a medic in the German army had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment was a bloodbath. Those who survived claimed to have heard, above the screams and barked commands of their lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

I first got in contact with Jack, my former landlord, a little over a year ago when I answered his newspaper ad. I was in a rush to move out as I had just broken up with my significant other, whom I shared an apartment with, and Jack was renting out the furnished basement of his house. The location was good and the price was a steal, and I moved in with a few boxes of personal items four days later.

I found an old Polaroid camera at a yard sale. It was even still loaded with film. Excited, I just took a picture of myself in the living room. However, when the photo was developed, there was a shadowy figure standing behind me, its hollow eyes staring straight into the camera lens. I was home alone.

Back in the 1980’s there was a phone prank that my sisters and I used to do when we were kids. It was known around the neighborhood that if you were to dial your own phone number, replace the first three digits with “555”, and then press the receiver down 3 times, the phone would ring back on its own. It had to be on a touch tone which were common back then.

It rained over the Rosenberg estate. A day's worth of packing luggage into the truck and, soon after it left, the clouds arrived. Inside of the several story house, little life was expressed as it once had. The antique clock ticked away, being the only thing making sound for the last three hours. Günther poured himself another shot of brandy, already finished with the bottle set at the mini bar. There was plenty more where it came from and he intended on finishing every last drop.

It was just like any other day when I received the call. I had been sketching the horizon for the past hour when my phone began ringing with with an unfamiliar number. I would have ignored it if the call hadn't been from my home town. Fast forward 24 hours later, and I'm sitting in a stark conference room and waiting for a team of doctors to arrive. I would have never imagined myself in this position. Who could? My mind was racing, and I wished that the doctor had given me a clearer explanation…

I have to remind myself. I don’t want to forget. I can’t forget again. For a while now I don’t even remember my own name from time to time, and I forget who my mom was. And my brother. I have to write down everything that happened before I go back there. Back to The Chimes. My name is Sam. My older brother was named Marcus.