Most read stories

Ever wake up in the middle of the night, or randomly check your watch in the daytime, to see the same thing following you around? For me it’s 11:17. I would say one out of every 3 times I check my watch it’s 11:17. You may have another one, like 3:33, or 12:50. If you don’t have one, count your blessings and stop reading. If you do have a time that you can’t seem to shake, follow these instructions.

I have watched enough crime shows to have heard the adage that everyone screams when they fall. More than one mystery has been started with a detective puzzled by the lack of a scream from an apparent jumper. According to the cinema detectives, even a jumper will show a moment of remorse and scream in terror as they plummet. I had never questioned this wisdom until I began having the dream.

I’ve worked in prisons for the criminally insane for 10 years now, and I can honestly say I wouldn’t change my job for the world. With any hard work rehabilitation is possible, and I believe true justice can be served. I remember my first day vividly, how terrified I was to do night shifts. How uneasy I got walking that long dark, silent corridor. That phrase you hear on your first day sticks with you forever. “Eyes down, keep right.”

When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal, in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started. The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy; the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach…

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.

“Welcome to Riverwood.” The administrator exclaimed, shaking the hand of the new night nurse. Riverwood was the town’s only nursing home. It had been built as a hospital back in the early days of Millville. It was a grand three story building, built in an “L” shape. At the far west end of the building was a bell tower. It no longer sounded, the bell having been removed several years ago. It was on a slight hill overlooking the north end of town and was surrounded by trees so thick that it was…

A cry woke me in the middle of the night. It's as if a girl was trying hard to muffle her desperate cries of help so as to keep something from hearing her. My heart started to pound with fear as I was reminded of some scenes from horror films involving creepy, crying ghost girls. I badly wanted to wake my room mate who was sleeping across my bed but it is impossible to wake her up for she is such a heavy sleeper.

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…

“So what’s your story, morning glory?” he asked her, staring into her big brown eyes. They were like two magnets pulling him in. Of all the juke joints in town, he had to walk into this one. Where he would see this exotic gold skinned beauty in a dress that could cure cancer. It was a red dress. One that had seen its share of blood and lives fucked up beyond redemption. If dresses could talk, this one could write an encyclopedia of misery.

I am Salt, and I love you. I have loved a lot of people, but now I love you. Last week actually I loved this sweet little girl. Her name was Lisa. She had sweet straight golden hair and small blue eyes. When I saw her I just knew I loved her.

It all started with a slight itch on the tip of my right middle finger. I absentmindedly scratched at it, and continued playing Minecraft. I soon forgot about it entirely, as a Creeper blew up the house I had worked on for an hour, as Creepers often do. I cursed and began to rebuild.

My parents died in a car crash when I was fourteen. Don't feel bad for me or anything. I've made my peace with that years ago. Life with them was never great, but I do miss them. It's just that if they taught me one thing it's to not sit around wallowing in self-pity. I just wish they hadn't sent me to live with my Aunt Louise.

Hope. It really is the most powerful yet dangerous and cruel of human traits. It forces us to defy logic, sometimes at great cost. Other times it guides us through treacherous waters and back into the arms of our loved ones. We cannot live without being in its presence yet we can die tragically while being draped in it. It is truly a paradox.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Your brain is trying to jolt you awake. However meek and disturbing your dream was, does not compare to what you will see when you wake.

Jake had no love for cats. Especially the one in his home. Of course, it wasn’t explicitly his cat. It was his roommate’s cat: a black and white stray that he’d adopted a number of years ago. But since his roommate was away for a few weeks, the cat was Jake’s responsibility. Each day, he fed her, changed her water, cleaned out her litter box (with far more frequency than his roommate ever did). Small additions to his daily routine that didn’t actually require a lot of effort.

When we were kids, we'd always spin in circles. The more we spun around, the more dizzy we'd get. Sometimes it was a challenge to see who would fall over or who could stay up right. When I was young, seven or eight, I remember this would be all I'd do with my time, spinning, spinning, spinning.

Mr. Woo was standing against the railing at the top of the stairs. He’s been standing there for the last three nights, when I get home from work. I live in one of those five stories, downtown apartment buildings that are always filled with a variety of characters. The woman with the million cats, who’s always wearing a worn-out robe, the man and woman who are constantly fighting and then making-up, loudly. The mother with the screaming children. The neighbors that you never see, but can hear…

Sarah and David had been very happy once. They were the type of couple that made other people envious and deprived. They had hit jackpot when they had met each other those many years ago. Knowing Sarah and David Bright you would know that they were good people. They would do just about anything to help out a friend in need. Knowing this, makes it so much harder to believe they ever deserved what happened to them. So, if the rule goes that no matter how kind and gentle and law abiding you are,…

When I was a small child, I was terrified of the dark. I still am, but back when I was around six years old I couldn’t go a full night without crying out for one of my parents to search beneath my bed or in my closet for whatever monster I thought was waiting to eat me. Even with a night light, I would still see dark shapes moving around the corners of the room, or strange faces looking in on me from my bedroom window. My parents would do their best to console me, telling me that it was just a…

It was 10:00 at night and I had a friend over, my friend Noah. He was basically the first friend I made when I moved to this new school. We had spent the whole day at an airsoft war down in the city. We were tired, but not sleepy. We played some games on our PlayStation 3 and did so for about four hours. Now keep in mind that my room is big. It was a fifteen by twenty foot room and what stood out the most was this window that took up a good portion of one of the walls.