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The black light in my hand told me things I should have never known, word by word over a month’s grim fascination.

I have served Queen Bactria well, perhaps too well. In the dungeons of Winter castle I took delight in her cause, the cause of Evil. Giving pain to people seemed to please her and for this she employed me. For that was a trade that was not unknown to me. I can still hear the screams from the pain I caused, caused by her request. My Queen was a beauty in every way imaginable. However, she possessed a heart as cold as ice. Her family ancestry may have contributed to this. As it was made up of…

“I think we should get a fifth cat,” my wife, Mabel, told me. I looked at her, amused, as we are both cat people. We have four cats: Taco, a tortoiseshell-colored cat; Ginger, a brown cat; Gadget, a black Bombay cat; and Pingu, a black-and-white-colored kitten.

There is a legend that few people know about. If you stand in front of the mirror, in the dark, with a single candle lit, and issue the call, “Here piggy, piggy, piggy.” The big man will appear. When the pig man appears, you must remain absolutely still, or the pig man will devour you in minutes.

In the summer of 1996, the town of Newport Bay was struck by an odd and gristly phenomenon. Earlier that year, the employees of a small animal shelter had been found mauled and eaten, by what appeared to be a rather large animal. The location and severity of the wounds added to the already powerful feelings of dread, fear and paranoia the residents were experiencing. Being eaten alive is often thought to be one of the worst ways to go, and while everyone has their own opinions on the worst ways…

On every college campus there is a hallway. Nondescript, tucked away, often on the top floor of a building or off of another hall where only a few classrooms have been placed. It melts into the background of every student’s life; drowned out by the music department or wedged between two lecture halls. Occasionally, a lost freshman will wander down it, running late for their first class. Should such a lost soul wander through that hall, all they will find is a single, empty classroom. This room…

My father recently passed away and left me his house in his will. His house was some sort of lakefront property out in the middle of nowhere in Wisconsin. My father bought it and moved up there after my mother passed away from cancer when I was around 20 years old. I’m 30 now and I haven’t really seen or heard from him since. The news of his passing didn’t really bother me too much because even before my mother died, he was never around. He was a cop in a small town in Texas near the New Mexico…

Is this thing on? Testing testing 1, 2, 3? Oh, good it is working. Thank you, Reginald! Now how do I delete that last sentence? No! That didn’t work! Crap! Computer delete last sentence. Still nothing? Oh, this is what I get for not having fingers. It’s fine, I guess! I just need to get this out there, so everyone knows to stay away from that retched thing! Well, here we go. Please whoever is reading this, pay no attention to my grammar or whatever this blasted thing types out. I am using this…

They kept sending us money, that was the problem. Even after the drugs which made your mind spiral into rainbow hell, and the noxious smelling salts, and the obscure rituals, they never cut funding. Even when we got desperate, they still kept pumping in the surplus of our good taxpayers. It wasn’t just money either, they kept us in good stock of all sorts. This included the drugs, obviously, alongside the sleek and sinister machines, chrome-plated man-made horrors.

By my word, this is the truth I tell. When I was a young boy, I used to live at a secluded farm next to an abandoned railroad. The nearest town wasn’t for hundreds of miles; my father drove there once a week to get groceries for the week. One day, I was playing in the woods around our property when I heard a voice calling for help. I ventured deeper into the woods until I saw a man.

Tap. Tap. Tap. Rain fogged up the window. A soft crackle sounded from the fireplace. It was supposed to be a cold, comfortable night. But I couldn’t help the chill that ran down my spine. My day was spent with powdery mountains and snowboarding and hot chocolate. It was supposed to be a day for me to forget. Tap. Tap. Tap.

In the late nineties, scientists conducted the Distant Snake Experiment. The experiment consisted of putting a one-man-capsule in a distant orbit around Earth. They would be suspended in solitary confinement for two months, logging their mental status and their physical status during that time. However, the experiment was shut down shortly after it was created due to strange complications. The experiment puts a man inside a vessel, then puts that vessel in a 400,000 kilometer orbit around…

The day you left me is still clear in my mind. Why would you do this? You know I love you. We're meant to be. We are destined to be together, the stars told me so. You used to love hearing that. You shouldn't have talked to that guy. I wouldn't have gotten so angry if you had told me you wanted permission first. But you were never good at hiding things, were you? Like your house key. I mean, you put it under the welcome mat?

Growing up, no one had ever believe me. I knew it was out there; watching. Lurking. I could feel its eyes rest upon me like weights as I took to my daily on-foot adventures to and from various stores and school. But no one ever believed me. They thought since I was a kid, that I was just being irrational. They thought I was hysterical to believe in such a far-fetched, outlandish being. Hell, for a good portion of my life, I thought I was crazy. That was, until I had my first encounter with it.

Of course everyone claiming residence in Arthur’s Wake knows tales associated with the Wicker House. It seems that every small province plays host to some structure of ill repute which, as if by supernatural magnetism, draws rumor of ghosts and bogies, wrapping the timber and stone of its foundation in a shroud of darkness and horror. In Arthur’s Wake, the Wicker House fills this odious task.

My eyes shoot open as the tapping echoes throughout the room, scanning every inch of my dark bedroom for something that should not be there. Shit. No. No, no. Not now. Every shadow, every dark corner stands out in my mind as my imagination screams horrifying possibilities what could be lurking in the blackness. My entire body tenses. Closing my eyes, I try to force myself to calm down. Just ignore it, I internally whisper to myself. Just ignore it and it will go away.

MISSING

Lytle, Texas - August

“Don’t worry! It’s just a scary story!”, “Yeah! What are you a pussy?” the two 13 year old boys said taunting Charlie, the latest transplant from San Antonio. Charlie was scared but didn’t want to look like a “Pussy” in front of the neighborhood kids. These were the kids who would decide if he was ok or not… they would tell other kids if he was cool…. or a big pussy. He just wanted to make new friends in this new place. He knew well enough that if he didn’t go in, and shout “Ole' Broken bones…

The digital clock read 3:15 am. I was lying awake, restless, in my bed. There was nothing I disliked more than a long, dreary, and silent night. I sighed, recalling that the nights prior to this one shared a common dullness. I adjusted the sheets in an attempt to cover my exposed feet from the biting cold that the night brought with it. Everything was pretty mundane, until I heard a knock in my room.