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Hello and Welcome to Part 3 of The Ballerina! I'm currently also working on making these parts into a whole book! Sadly, the physical version of The Ballerina will not be ready for some time; however, please enjoy the online version I have written for you all! Now, Let's begin! Davian went to his laptop and went to that blog, where he found more information about Bella's death. Just who was the blogger? Who was 'HorrorsofNights31'? He found the blog, and this page was all about him....

I’m closing up for the night when I get the call: Aunt Cynthia’s been in a car accident, a bad one.  Her back’s broken.  Uncle Dan’s disabled too, so he’s reluctantly asking everyone in the family to come out and help if they can. I can. The next day I cash in my vacation time, load up my head-turning 2009 Chevy Impala, and hit the road on a cross-country trip from New Hampshire to Uncle Dan’s place out near Vegas.  I don’t like flying.

There’s no way I could be alone in this. My family wanted to send me to the psych ward when I told them. And I am not delusional enough to believe that if evil existed in this universe or any other, it would only have eyes for me. So I'm throwing this out into the ether of the internet. If you have ever found yourself on the outskirts of the bends of Oklahoma and happened upon a similar place. Please, I’m begging you, share your story as well. I need to know I’m not crazy.

The trip was fun. From what we could remember at least. Olivia and I had made the weekend trip down to St. Augustine, Florida with her younger brother John. The four hour drive from Albany, Georgia to one of America’s oldest cities was long and boring. The four-lane highways we traveled along were barren and isolated, surrounded by nothing but miles of impenetrable forest save for the occasional shithole rest stop.

Last night, and the one before I had the strangest dreams. On the first night I opened my eyes and found my bedroom present in a dark aura despite the light being off. Above me, where my ceiling should have been blank (I have nothing in particular on my ceiling) was the outline of what appeared to be a window. I stared in shock, convinced I was asleep and dreaming. But it felt so real.

Everyone always says there not real there just a figure of your imaginations fairytales they say, but I know they exist I've never seen them, but I've felt their presence, eyes looking through the window staring, observing almost as if taking notes of humanity itself. The feeling was unreal almost as if it made me at ease. I was once one of them the non-believers I had thought it was dumb to believe in something you couldn't see it was like believing in unicorns or the end of the rainbows.

Our archipelago is an excellent hunting ground. In all our cities, in all our towns, in all our places, it's incredibly easy to spot the prey you're pursuing. In fact, it's almost impossible not to encounter them. Like a plague, thousands upon thousands of them fly nonstop to the islands, like a plague of locusts. When the heat increases, their numbers also increase.

You know my name by now; I don’t want to keep starting my posts like this, but... if you are new regardless, the name is Jay. After the L.P.I. incident and the death of Crane, there was something I found when I came back to Super Nintendo World that dated way back before the Junior Playtesting Program experiments. I found something old, something buried underneath layers of dust, rubble, and countless lies. Something I almost missed but am very glad I found it before anyone else threw it away.

The first time Monty had seen Sevyn, she had been wearing some kind of mascot costume with matted, bloodied fur. Her red hair was a mess, her blue eyes sunken yet hypervigilant, and overall, she looked like she had just had the worst night of her life. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for Monty’s clientele, however, so his reaction was practiced and measured. “Are you in need of any assistance, Miss?” he asked.

The human race breathed a sigh of relief when we finally colonized Mars. Years of overpopulation and resource shortages left our first planet stressed. Mars was seen as a pressure valve. A new planet for us to build up and eventually ruin. But we all knew it wasn’t a permanent solution. With the way our population grows, it would only give us a finite amount of time before we were in the same boat as before. We needed more planets. Planets that are farther away and host a greater abundance of…

His face was as pale as a murderous clown with washed-out rain-splashed makeup. It was thin like an underfed anorexic psychopath surviving on a diet of saltines and water. His eyes were sunken and dried with a lackluster finish across his pupils. While they lay inset like old oysters on a yellowish bed of old sand with bright red veins. There was no nose to speak of. There was only a bump with two small holes that leaked mucus and breathed warm stale air whenever his deflated and shriveled…

By the end of the spring semester of our senior year, the state of mind for me and my friends could be described simply as “burned out”. The semester was hard on all of us, and we desperately needed a reset for our brains. I’ve never been one to make plans and this time around was no different. I knew that if I waited long enough, Steven or Josh would make plans for us. “You guys are going to love this idea!” Steven said with way too much enthusiasm as he walked into our dorm.

I never believed in urban legends, not at all. Until I saw him. This is a very generic way to start, but it started one evening when I was walking home from working; the streets were empty, but then I saw the man in the distance of the streets at an outdoor market. There was a small man hunched over with a massive, overstuffed pack with various masks on it. That grin, that GRIN... it was the first thing that caught me; it stretched past his cheeks and just stayed there.

I know I have started the previous post like this, but I like to keep reminding people that it’s me writing this; the name’s Jay. The same boy who escaped the Junior Playtesting Program. I know I am breaking my promise to stay away from all Nintendo-related properties, but I want to put this to rest, and that’s seeing what they’re hiding in Super Nintendo World.

You may have never heard of it, but some consider it the most haunted painting in the world. Yet the truth is, it might be something much worse. Its artist is unknown. The work was never signed. It has no official title. For reasons that are obvious once you’ve seen it, people online have named the painting Look Over There.

We didn’t have much to do. Not in Cairo, Georgia anyway. That’s Cairo pronounced with a ‘k’. Kay-Row. Not like the one in Egypt. Instead of pyramids, we had our beloved Cairo High Syrupmakers. But besides those Friday Night Lights, we didn’t have jack shit to be honest. Just an old theater and a museum downtown. There wasn’t much us twelve-year-olds could do even this close to Halloween.

There are a lot of clichéd "traditions" that I don't think anyone has actually participated in for about hundred years or so. Wishing on a star, for example. A shooting star, maybe... but just an average, normal star that's there every night? Never seen someone do that. Tying a string around your finger to remind you of something. Might've been helpful to someone at some point in history, but it's more likely they just wrote it down.

Every marriage reaches a point where one partner looks at the other and thinks the same thing. "You are NOT the person I married." Often, this is because someone forgot an anniversary, gained a little weight, or suddenly developed strong political opinions after listening to a few episodes of a popular podcast.

A twenty something years old man enters a cafeteria. White skin, maybe a bit too skinny, straight unkempt hair, a beard of a few days, and bloodshot brown eyes. He was dressed with a blue shirt, blue jeans, and black shoes. The young man looked around and then walked to the furthest table in the corner and sat down in front of an older man. The older man lowers his cell phone and looks up to the young man. “What do you want, kid?”