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Amelia loved everything new, mysterious, and unusual anything unconventional and alluring. She loved music that made adults react with disbelief. She dressed like a Goth; in short, she defied all conventions. Her best friend, Diana, shared her musical passions. The girls liked to experiment, not only with their image but also with new experiences.

Part 1 Episode 1 Afghanistan, Kandahar Province The night belonged to dust and silence. Lou Phillips moved at the front of the stack, body low, rifle steady, breathing slow enough to disappear. The compound rose out of the dark like a tumor—mud walls, a single rusted gate, no lights. Intel said weapons cache. Lou trusted patterns more than intel. Martinez raised two fingers. Hold. Lou froze. Not because of the signal—but because something tugged at the back of

10/11/2010 ...

“Beneath the world’s frail skin it breeds, Where stars lie drowned in the deep; For centuries, with scorn, it heeds The ones who whisper to the sheep.” “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I pulled out an earbud and turned toward the speaker. “Sorry, did you say something?” “The view,” the man beside me repeated, using his beer glass as a pointer. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” “Yes, you’re right indeed. Prost!”

The attic hatch didn’t just open; it fell away with a deafening crack, dangling by a single, twisted hinge. I scrambled backward, my heels drumming against the dusty floorboards until my spine hit the cold glass of the circular window. The creature didn't climb in. Instead, it reached up with those impossible, elongated fingers and gripped the edge of the opening. It pulled itself up just enough for me to see the top of its head—the same smooth, featureless grey skin, pulsing like a heartbeat.

12/8/2011 ... A figure of shadow stands before one of light. He regards the other in silence, bearing that same pensive furrow he affords all things not yet understood. There is, for a time, no movement between them. No greeting offered, none returned. He does not speak, not yet. There remains the question of whether he is perceived at all. Should he remain unseen, it would not be the first time.

A few years ago, I had returned from Walt Disney World in Orlando, Florida and I nostalgically wanted to watch some old Mickey Mouse shorts for VHS. Among all of the other Mickey Mouse tapes, I noticed an out-of-place Mickey Mouse tape labelled, "Mickey's Book". What was odd was that the tape's date was 01/29/1995, even though old, black and white Mickey Mouse shorts were being produced much earlier.

Sara and Tom scrambled through the castle corridors, hoping to find Roy. They checked everywhere, but he was nowhere to be found. Suddenly, Tom spotted Roy between two suits of armor-huddled, trembling, and paralyzed with fear. "Man, why are you shaking like that?" Tom asked. "I... I... I saw her..." "Who did you see?" "The Mourner... I mean, the ghost of the Mourner. She was gliding down the hallway, "Man, why are you shaking like that?" Tom asked. "I... I... I saw her..."

This story is dedicated to those who have experienced irremediable anguish regarding a family member. Written by a forlorn individual. ~ This was written from the fleshy net interior in which held every fibre of my then decomposing being. The sunken, hard shelled exterior managed to tear chunks out, sprawl them across a diary, in display for all to devour. Humanity's greed of consuming fleeting tragedy for selfish curiosity. ꜱᴇᴘᴛᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 𝟹ʀᴅ, 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟼.

“Well, that was ominous!” I said putting the can back on the shelf. “Totally! Maybe we are haunted!” Rudy said jokingly. “That would be kind of awesome!” I jokingly said back. Oh, how right we were, and we did not even know it yet. So, we finally called it a night and went to sleep. The next morning, I got up like usual and hopped into the shower. The water pressure in this house was nice and the water got hot, and it always left fresh fog on the mirrors. I turned off the water and stepped out…

The shining bright light of a VTOL passing by illuminates his apartment for just an instant through his shutters, the pitter-patter of the downpouring rain thankfully drowning out the deafening hum of its rotors. Still, the LED lights casting a bright blue hue throughout his entire home stir him awake, despite his best wishes not to be.

Life had always been hectic: the constant push forward through time, the ever repeating change of scenery every time his family had to move. But there was always one place where life — for just a few short moments — managed to feel more like a calm ocean wave lapping onto shore than the tsunami it usually had been. The little oceanside town his parents always chose for their vacation, with its salty, warm breeze, the calming sound of the seagulls circling above, and the small, colorful fishing…

The body hasn’t even gone cold and the police already called for her. The desperation in the officer’s voice on the other end of the line was a far cry from the usual belittling tone she’s met with. “Solomon’s Hotel. Body fitting all your criteria. Please be quick.”

Nobody in the street took the warnings seriously. Not until the insults started. It began just after midnight in a quiet neighborhood outside Cape Town. People were woken by banging bins, dogs barking, and a strange little voice yelling from outside. At first, Mr. Daniels thought it was drunk teenagers. He opened his window and shouted, “Who’s making all that noise?” Silence. Then from the darkness below came a raspy voice. “Go back inside, you old fool.” Mr. Daniels blinked.

Honestly when I mention this to people, no one else seems to remember this. I’m not sure why this seems to linger in my mind every night. When I mention the riots in 95 they talk about the riots in LA. They don’t remember the sirens screaming all night. They don’t remember the men in gas masks knocking on every door, telling us to leave. The shortages, the fear, the paranoia, the evacuations of entire cities, almost the whole state.

The attic floorboards are thin, but the silence is thinner. I’ve been up here for three hours. The vibrating stopped, which is worse. Now, the only sound is a rhythmic thump-drag, thump-drag coming from the hallway directly below the attic hatch.

Red, true as crimson stones.... December is here, with snowflakes and mistletoes of winter white.... 6 days left, with sugar cookies and hot chocolate: happiness.... Of Holly berries and bells of golden rings.... 5 days left, with long nights and shadows that watch you in the darkness of night... Of Holly berries, red and true... 4 days left, with eyes of amber glow and icy cold stares watching you as you sleep with care... Of Holly, covered in crimson hue, dark and true....

During the darkest of nights, on the night of Christmas Eve. A light shone in the dark veil. A candle was lit with love and care. He hummed with cheerfulness and glee. The other, quiet as a mouse, was hidden within the stairwell, lit by candlelight and holly bells. The man noticed the snowflake-printed nightgown as he hummed 'Jingle Bells.' She ran and hid under the shadows of the night. With the candlelight lighting his way.

Shadows risen from the darkness... Moonless Night follows the shadows like a plague. Silver bells, Darkness shadows, and Endless stars... Into the Darkness is where it starts... Into the Darkness, opal stars and golden moons arise. Followed by screams in the dead of night... Lovely and Afraid with haunted eyes of emerald shade... Would you walk alone into the Darkness of night? To find yourself and the endless night? To meet him in the middle of the night...

it all started on one day when i was in my room casually reading my story book " TERRIBLE DAY OF NIGHTS " then my mom called me from downstairs ''hey honey , come down your dinner is waiting for you mainly don't be late or else your dinner will get cool down so better come fast as you can " . I went downstairs and saw my mom and dad looking at me weirdly i asked them " why are you looking at me like im a ghost ?" , but they just nodded no nervously as i came to eat near dining table they…