Most read stories

Have you ever had an experience that suggested someone else was in your house, and just thought “I don’t wanna know” and left it? Sometimes, fear of the unknown just seems like the preferable option than facing a real, concrete danger. Normally it’s nothing, though. One time, the beeper function of my wireless housephone went off, when I was the only one home. It could only be called from the living room. Another time, I swear someone took some change from my desk. They’re all probably just…

I was so happy to get this computer. For the last three years I’ve been on a laptop. Long story, boring, but let’s just say a fire took out my desktop and half the apartment complex I lived in while I was at school, and the insurance money would only cover a laptop.

There is a village somewhere in England that has not been inhabited for over twenty years. It has long since been forgotten off of most maps, and only has one road in and out of it. If you manage to find it, it will seem a peaceful enough place, the derelict buildings being overgrown and nature taking back the land for herself.

(This is the typed version of a handwritten transcript that I was given access to. The transcript itself is from a voice recording, but I have no idea where that is, or how the person who wrote the transcript obtained it. Due to the sloppiness of the handwriting and some water marks, some of the words are indecipherable, or maybe they were unintelligible from the recording. I cannot go into detail as to how I came across this transcript.)

The feeling of a lingering presence during solitary moments… Everybody gets that feeling. I’m sure you have too. What you probably haven’t done is try to explain its occurrence.

For the tenth time that day, Lucy's phone rang. She knew that, because she had been counting. And for the tenth time that day, Lucy ignored the shrill sounds of the phone. She didn't much care for it, it was if anything annoying and too persistent for her taste. What she had learned, was that persistence got you killed. Much like curiosity. And she would be giving into both those things if she were foolish enough to answer the phone.

“Relax, son. Close one eye and keep focused on your target.” My father spoke calmly from behind me. I tried to do as he said, letting my muscles relax. One eye closed, ending the double vision I had from having the rifle’s sight so close to my gaze. “That’s good.” He continued. “Now, when you’re ready, hold your breath. Don’t hold it for too long or you’re gonna start shaking. Just enough. Then, slowly squeeze the trigger down. Like you’re milking a cow.” I had to chuckle at that.

Last year, I spent six months participating in what I was told was a psychological experiment. I found an ad in my local paper looking for imaginative people looking to make good money, and since it was the only ad that week that I was remotely qualified for, I gave them a call and we arranged an interview.

I’ve been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or what most people would call Multiple Personality Disorder. I haven’t told a lot of people about it, because, well, it’s not an easy thing to talk about. And I have this constant fear of seeming like I’m seeking attention, and since I can’t prove it then it’s just kind of useless to talk about.

Since around 1999, I’ve lived across the street from an old sawmill. It’s sort of assumed that the family who still own and operate the mill have owned the hundred or so acres it sits on since the beginning of time. The owner’s sons, now into their 30’s, have always sort of been “wild” boys. They like old muscle cars, dirt bikes, fireworks, things like that. They even built part of the largely-unused land behind the sawmill proper into a motocross track, just building up the dirt to make ramps,…

You know how Fox has a weird way of counting Simpsons episodes? They refuse to count a couple of them, making the amount of episodes inconsistent. The reason for this is a lost episode from season 1.

When people who died and come back to life say they saw a bright light, they are full of shit. It’s not necessarily their fault though. The mind has a difficult time figuring out things it has never experienced, therefore the mind cannot understand. I’m one of the special, select few who have experienced death and rebirth…often.

It was a cold, rainy day in December. There was less than a week until we got out of school for winter break. Usually my teachers don't give us work before a break, but my bastard of a History teacher decided he'd assign us a 2000-word report due the day before we got out. I knew I wasn't going to be there then; I was going up to the mountains in North Carolina to spend Christmas and New Years' in Lenoir with some old friends I hadn't seen since I moved.

Mark sighed and looked out at the night sky. He was standing on the roof of his apartment building, four stories up. Sometimes Mark just liked to stay up here and reflect, it was quiet and peaceful. Looking down you could see the normal hustle and bustle of city life but if you looked up you could see the beautiful sky, and sometimes even a full moon or some stars.

The day you left me is still clear in my mind. Why would you do this? You know I love you. We're meant to be. We are destined to be together, the stars told me so. You used to love hearing that. You shouldn't have talked to that guy. I wouldn't have gotten so angry if you had told me you wanted permission first. But you were never good at hiding things, were you? Like your house key. I mean, you put it under the welcome mat?

The child jolted awake in the middle of the night, a scream lost in his throat. He was covered in cold sweat and trembling all over. The nightlight next to his bed illuminated his room. There was no monster. He had simply imagined everything in a brief, terrifying nightmare. His hand reached through the darkness and pulled the cord to his lamp. The bulb flashed on and his room was liberated from the blackness. He would sleep with the light on just in case.

Sitting at home alone, you find yourself aimlessly searching the internet from the comfort of your bed. While scrolling through your Tumblr dashboard one of your followers post an interesting link. Looking anywhere for entertainment you blindly click it. Your web browser is whisked away to a plain white screen with nothing but a playful whale trying its heart out to eat your mouse cursor. Finally with some entertainment you find this whale to be a companion when you are alone. After several…

The last pale stripes of light were fading quickly behind the city’s expanse that evening. The street, still damp from a recent rain, glimmered thinly. The streetlights had not yet flickered to life, and the street was hanging suspended in that breathless squinting moment between light and dark.

Your Majesty, I do not mean to interrupt. I do know that today is a day of celebration. That this feast you have thrown has been in my honor. But I bid you give me the floor. For there is no cause for celebration. You celebrate today for the death of a beast, and yet I aim to make amends. For you see, the beast lives on. I can see by the look on your face that you are confused…and perhaps you feel you are owed an explanation. If it pleases Your Majesty, I will give you just that.

"Same as always Sir?" I habitually queried of the wispy man at my counter. The deep blue flannel look was new, but everything else about him was carved from a solid block of routine. The same haircut that failed to cover the bald spot on his head, the same muck encrusted work boots, and the same patient smile hid behind his oxygen tubes all adorned him neatly.