Most read stories

I huffed and puffed under my breath as I stared into God’s Mouth. I felt like the Big Bad Wolf ready to interrupt the innocent little pigs as they hurriedly fortified their makeshift homes. I grinned at this thought and then turned my head to look for Margaret. She was a couple of feet down the hill from the entrance of the cave, holding a walking stick close to her petite breasts. “Hurry up!” I called down to her. I turned back to the cave, still grinning. An old, rotted sign outside read…

Very seldom does it happen that a young person enters a nursing home. Mostly we assume that nursing homes are for the elderly. Those who are too fragile or infirm to be without twenty-four hour care, those with a broken hip that won’t heal or with too many illnesses to count. A few who will recover and the rest left here as a last resort. But occasionally a child inhabits a room at a nursing home. Here is the tale of one such child, and the impression she left behind.

I’m not sure how much time I have left until he finds me, but I can assure you that it isn’t much. I know, I know, you want an explanation. Don’t worry, you’ll get one. But before I can give it to you, I must warn you: If you hear my story, he WILL get you. (Note: Anything preceded and followed by an asterix (*) is a realization I had as I wrote down my story.) ~~~

Do you know about the monster under your bed? How it wasn’t there when someone would look for it? Or was your monster behind the curtain, suddenly gone when you asked someone to check behind it? Some of them used to hide in the closet and like all of these monsters, were gone when someone else tried to find them.

There was a loud bang on the door, followed by more equally loud bangs. The woman stood up from her couch and walked towards the door. She was watching the news which was reporting recent kidnappings in her area and was wondering when her husband would return home from work. As the woman walked to the door, she wondered who it could be at this hour. It was almost 10 o’clock at night. Could it be her husband? No. He would have come through the garage. Or even the back door. The woman reached the…

“Houston, come in. This is UN Space Station Libra. Come in, Houston.” No reply, just like every other time. I throw the receiver in disgust, the weightless environment causing it to float mockingly in front of my face at the end of its retention strap. I'm bathed in the soft red glow of emergency lights that serve to illuminate every inch of my tiny cell. I take a deep breath to calm my nerves before returning to fiddle at the maintenance panel. I've been in here for two weeks now.

Do you remember those old televisions that everyone’s grandparents had in their basements? Those old bunny ear t.v.’s that turned to static whenever there was a storm or even a little wind? I do... All too well. Children have very vivid imaginations. We all remember seeing things that our parents told us weren’t really there. The monster under the bed, the beady eyes in the closet that were really just your jacket’s reflectors, the ghost in your basement that would “get you” if the lights…

Guitar Lovers, sell and buy special guitars forum Search results for: ‘Signed’ ‘folk’ ‘guitar’ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04 November 2013 Dylan4r: Hey I got this cool signed guitar for sale, for 40 bucks you can come and pick it up. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 04 November 2013 Nathanmusic: Hey who signed the guitar, I’m willing to buy it.

If you are reading this, turn your lights off before you continue. They are attracted to light because they know someone is alive in the room.

I can't stand when someone is walking behind me or simply that feeling of being watched or followed. It’s not pleasant at all, and personally for me, it’s unbearable. Let me begin by saying that the reason I practically hate it is due to the fact that's how I felt that during most of my childhood. All of the events that I will tell you actually happened so you probably will understand that for protection purposes (yourself, my family and mine) I will avoid providing any names or locations.…

What is it about being naked that makes someone feel so vulnerable? I mean, really, are you suddenly stronger with clothes? Maybe if you’re the type who goes around wearing steel toed boots and Kevlar, but if you are, something tells me that even in the buff you probably know more than the average Joe about self-defense and would stand a good chance in a fight either way.

I'm a scaredy-cat. There's nothing that I hate more than being left alone at night in a dark, rambling house. In truth I usually do okay. Stay in my chair, on my computer... watch horror movies and shows. I'm a scaredy-cat, but I kind of like being scared.

Mad Henry was a hermit who lived alone in a decrepit mansion at the edge of town. Rumors were rife about the wild-eyed man. Some folks said that he was a magician who called upon the powers of darkness to wreck havoc upon his neighbors. Others called him a mad doctor who could restore life to foul corpses from the local cemetery. No respectable citizen in town had anything to do with Mad Henry

I'd like to tell you a disturbing story I heard from people I know or have met. I was living in the southern part of Sydney four years ago in a big house. One day, I advertised to share the house so I could save some money. The next day, a young Indian-looking guy around thirty came to the house. However, he wanted to leave quickly after I showed him the spare room.

Mandy watched the girl on the television run. She was about thirty minutes into Halloween and honestly she was unimpressed. Was this really what she was staying up past her bedtime for? Was this really worth the risk of her mother finding out that she was not in fact really asleep, preparing for the next day in which she would go to school and learn just like the good children?

“Pretty Penny: The American Slit-Mouth Woman” Ohio can be a frightening place, with scary legends jumping out from around nearly every dark rural corner. Some though remain extremely obscure, and deserve perhaps a second look. In a true case of east meets west I give you Pretty Penny, America’s own Slit Mouth Woman.

It was a few weeks ago that the hay bales started creeping slowly away from the house. Every morning when I woke up, each had moved a few hundred feet from where it was before. I assumed it was pranksters with nothing better to do, and I so I ignored it. Within a few days, though, the bales began to approach the boundaries of the farm. I was tired of the whole game by then, and decided to move them back. It took a tedious hour to bring them all from where they were to over near the house again,…

My name is Harold Granderson, and I've been the director of the Cleveland Opera for 39 years. I'm sure that doesn't sound like much, what with the picture of Cleveland as a post-industrial wasteland deprived of fine culture, but I can assure you we don't harbor talentless hacks. I make sure of that. Admittedly, it's difficult to attract equally discerning ears. We live in the shadow of the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame, where the off-key caterwauling of drunken pseudo-poets is worshiped. Even the…

The following are the final excerpts from the journal of Dr. Arnold Richards, who, at sixty-seven years old and in perfect health, was found dead in his bedroom, lying in a pool of his own blood, a single sleeping pill in his hand. The incidents surrounding the events reported in his diary were investigated thoroughly, but the case was never solved.

Truth and trust are like a disappearing faith within some people now a day. People’s minds are clouded with darkness. Needing a lie to cover up their mistakes. With all this technology, people can have all different ways of hindering the truth from coming out. Think of it as this…. The mind covers the truth, as the shadows cover the light. The darkness in people’s minds is an unknowing truth, a truth that has no trust. Trust is like this; A lie that has become the truth…. It’s a losing battle.