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The term “synthetic drug” refers to a new type of drug on the market that has been created to skirt existing laws on illicit drugs. Thousands of psychoactive compounds are regulated by the law of the Federal Controlled Substances Act. However, in creating synthetic drugs, manufacturers alter the chemical structure of an illegal drug, modifying it to create an “analog” or derivative of that drug, to, essentially, make it quote unquote legal.

When I was a child my family moved to a big old two-floor house, with big empty rooms and creaking floorboards. Both my parents worked so I was often alone when I came home from school. One early evening when I came home the house was still dark. I called out, “Mum?” and heard her sing song voice say “Yeeeeees?” from upstairs. I called her again as I climbed the stairs to see which room she was in, and again got the same “Yeeeeees?” reply.

My freshman year of high school was what had to be the worst year of my life. I used to keep this story to myself- I never told anyone, never wrote it down. I just never saw a point. It’s hardly even possible that anyone would ever believe me. They’d think I was crazy. Which wouldn’t be fair with how much I’ve gone through. But now, I’m dying and my story must be told. I have to warn others not to play the game.

I’m breaking every single one of my rules for survival doing this and yet I know if I don’t I’ll die of hunger in a few weeks or worse they’ll find me when I’m sleeping and carry me off to where they dwell nestled in the tunnels beneath the city. I stare into the abyssal depths below me, nothing to make out but the now motionless escalator stairs, poking their way out of the blackness. I take one last deep breath savour the clean crisp February air and make my way down to find Nate. Nate’s the…

My parents were the first to fall violently ill from the sickness we now know as XoRax, I can vividly recall my father lying on his bed while his muscles spasmed and he chocked on his own vomit. I stood as his side, frozen in place and refusing to leave as I held back sobs, his pupils dilating until his entire eye was like an inky blackness. He tried to speak, turning his head toward me but opening his mouth only brought forth another torrent of vomit.

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…

Edwin was widely considered to be one of the better actors of his time. Some even called him the best overall. With a healthy, theatrical love for Shakespeare plays, he found any chance he could to get involved in one, a contestant among critics to be the finest Hamlet that there ever was, and ever will be.

Ever had a fear of monsters under your bed? Like you could have sworn you saw what seemed to be a shadow moving down there, or freaked out when you heard a noise under the bed and was scared to look?

You wake up in the middle of the night. Your cat is cozily nested behind your knees and the weight of your blanket warms your tired body nicely. You sigh happily. When you are about to drift again into a sweet slumber, your cat hisses and runs frantically off your bed and hides behind the curtains.

‘The walls have ears,’ and ‘Your home shares your fondest memories.' These are just a couple of rather meaningless things my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl. However, those words were the first thing that came back to me as I was fighting amnesia. Nobody had a clue why, and, quite frankly, everybody was so happy that I was regaining my memory, that nobody seemed to care about anything else. I didn’t care either, not at first anyway.

YouTube is a pretty vicious place. Many violent and dreadful things are put up on YouTube for the whole world to watch, but there is a particular YouTube channel with a few million subscribers – all of its videos are of people being hurt and beaten, and some are even eaten alive by predatorial animals and cannibals. It’s disgusting; how and why does this YouTuber record these events instead of helping the people in danger? How does he find people in these deadly situations over and over again?…

I look into the night, And I know I’m in a trance, As my head turns to the right, I see the shadows dance. The voices keep on saying, Do it, do it, die, I feel my skull expanding, At least I have to try. I can’t take all the screaming, On the balcony I kneel, I feel like I am dreaming, But no dream is this real I jump towards my death, I watch the ground get closer, As my bones rip through my flesh, I know my life is over...

Hope didn't like being home without her parents. All of her friends did, and they had all shared wild tales of what exactly they had done when their parents were gone. They all seemed to get a sense of satisfaction at disobeying their parents and defying their rules. Hope didn't have a rebellious streak. It wasn't that she was a goody two shoes; it was just that her parents had always been reasonable with her, and in turn, she complied with their wishes.

There had been many rumors of a shooting that was supposed to take place today. All these rumors had me on edge all day and I was still fidgeting in my seat even though I knew it would be fine and nothing would happen. It was lunch time when the school shooting was supposed to happen and that’s where I find myself right now. All I can think is that a school shooting would be such a terrible thing...

My father told me a story once. I'll never forget it, for a few reasons. I think its the first story he ever told me, as a child. Its also the story of how my grandfather died. But honestly, that isn't the reason. You hear stories, on TV, or sometimes you over hear something in a public place. People talk about ghosts and aliens, and you think to yourself “that ain't real. They're making it up, or they're mistaken, or they're crazy.” or something like that. You just can't believe it.

Today was the day it slowed to 500 miles per hour. I think. Was that yesterday? Perhaps today it was planed to reach 400. I suppose it doesn't matter either way; It's hard to remember many things at this point. It was only a matter of time before science went too far and became humanity's downfall. But who would have guessed it would be the downfall of the existence of life anywhere?

"Do you feel safe in your house? Does your house have secure doors and windows? Do you trust your neighbors, if you even have any?" I ask these questions, but I already know the answers. I know so much about you. I know how you tick, I know how you tock. I know what makes you happy, I know what makes you angry, and I know what makes you afraid. I have been watching you since you were just a young one; my how’ve you grown.

“Anna! Wake up! My angel is here!” “What?” I eased one eye open until I was squinting at my brother. I would have opened them farther, except I couldn’t. He was shining a damn flashlight in my face. I shooed my little brother away that night, barely even bothering to look. That was the biggest mistake I have ever made.

Appropriate. It says this in the rules, under the FAQ, word for word. Submissions are supposed to be creepy stories to spread around the internet for a bit of an adrenaline rush on those late nights alone. They're not real, they're not meant to be full of explicit gore or violence, they've always been simple stories - sometimes overdone, sometimes with plenty of cliches or plot-holes, but never... never truly chilling to the bone, not before that night...

Now, when I think back to the excuses my parents used to make, I feel like an idiot. I remember being twelve years old, standing at the top of the staircase and watching all of the people filing into our basement. Some men wore white masks, some women wore bonnets. But they all had small suitcases, as though there was a bus stop beneath our house. And every one of them looked pale, frightened.