Most read stories

I always said that pain is just the tax you pay for looking decent. Every third Thursday, I visit the spa. It’s sterile, expensive, and private. Yesterday, my usual aesthetician wasn’t holding a wooden spatula. She was standing next to a metal arm that looked more like a dentist set up than a spa fixture. “The ‘Aura-Wax’,” the aesthetician beamed. “State-of-the-art. It uses thermal mapping and haptic sensors. It’s faster, more precise, and more private. No human eyes. Just the machine.”

Note: This is my own take on the "Clown Statue" urban legend A girl was babysitting two children in Florida while their parents went out on a date. That evening, the mother drove her to the house and dropped her off at the front door. The children's mother came to let her in. "Hi! You must be the babysitter. Come on in." "Hello. Yes, that's me." The father walked over and smiled. "Thanks again for doing this. We won't be gone too long." "No problem." The mother pointed toward the stairs.

There are plenty of abandoned places at Walt Disney World. Most people know about River Country. But there was another one. A place almost nobody remembers. Willie’s Fishin’ Adventure! It opened on February 16, 2002. Exactly four years later, on February 16, 2006, it closed. And that was supposed to be the end of it. It wasn't. I first heard about Willie’s Fishin’ Adventure! because of an old attraction list.

Once, was a legend, with rage of a thousand betrayed vikings. Statement begins. —------------------------ 1592, Hungary, Ecsed Castle. There lived a cruel mistress, rather favored by, rumored accurately, blood countess Elizabeth Báthory, and was to carry on her legacy of arcane dirty work, meant only for hellbound souls, willing. Days after barely surviving arduous birth, her mercenary husband unexpectedly passed away due to sudden incurable illness.

It was a cool midsummer night when me and my friends start to head home we both split of from each other until it was just me I still had a mile to walk so I kept me head down but when I was walking I kept hearing strange cracking and jingling like bones from the woods around me you see we lived on a dirt road no houses for around a mile out I got home around dinner time mom and I had a good meal dad often wasn't there he was a trucker so he had to stay on long trips away from home but me and…

Heavy rain, shaking thunder. Laser sharp lightning. Muggy gloom. A beautifully Victorian castle lit hazily from within burns bright on the center of nothing, and nowhere. Painted sepia shades descending darker than the darkness of night itself. Our distressed protagonist, drenched, hurriedly scurries up the stone steps to the bronze Baphomet-shaped door knocker. Thud. Thud. The door slowly scrapes open to reveal a rather unfortunate looking young man, around twenty years of age at most.

Honestly when I mention this to people, no one else seems to remember this. I’m not sure why this seems to linger in my mind every night. When I mention the riots in 95 they talk about the riots in LA. They don’t remember the sirens screaming all night. They don’t remember the men in gas masks knocking on every door, telling us to leave. The shortages, the fear, the paranoia, the evacuations of entire cities, almost the whole state.

In truth I've always known that the house I live in is haunted. The soft sounds of soft footsteps when you're home alone, the whispers when the house is empty... You know all the signs. All have been told before already after all. We were just lucky that it never got worse than that, yes sometimes small objects would have been placed elsewhere, but we never got the feeling that we were dealing with something that was dangerous or angry. So we just let it be, whatever it was.

“How do you eradicate death itself?” There was a strange life in this apartment complex, one that practically begged you to look the other way. From the outside, the place offered nothing. It was just a decrepit gray structure looking as if it would collapse under a single harsh gust of wind. It stood out solely because within a fifty-mile radius, no other human life existed. Questions went unasked. Certain answers were better left unknown, and if ignorance was bliss, so be it.

I thought it strange when I suddenly got an invitation from a friend of mine whom I had long lost contact with. We hadn't seen or been in contact with each other since our academy days. Apparently he had gotten married and had a young son. The reason why he contacted me was because he knew I had studied medicine and wondered if I could possibly help him with his sickly child. The same day as his letter arrived I wrote a response and sent it his way.

I am not trying to pull any Shane Dawson conspiracies, like saying a specific pizza joint’s pizza is recycled, or at the very least, this isn’t about Chuck E. Cheese. Also, I should warn you that if you are eating pizzas or, at the very least, very squeamish about what I am going to speak about and are uncomfortable with the mention of arteries and stuff. Please stop reading beyond this point; however, this may be important to read regardless.

Two Days Before the Harvest Festival Sky’s End Annual Harvest Festival Fall, fun, and tradition! Join us for the annual March to St. Asbeel Stay for the bonfire! - flier in Sky’s End “It’s a church,” Mom said, staring at the stained glass windows of Jesus hanging on the cross. Her narrowed eyes and pursed lips told me she was clearly holding back additional commentary. “It was a church,” I said. “Now it’s a bookstore. My bookstore.” “What?” “I bought it! That was the surprise!”

Witch of the Eclipse is an ongoing collaborative AIRPG, presented here as an experimental seriesWhat began as a private AIRPG—a private adventure between the Author and an AI Game Master—has grown into something far larger. Scene by scene, chapter by chapter, the world of Eryndor expanded. The lore deepened. The cast multiplied.At the time of this writing, the campaign spans over fifty-five books.The following works have been edited for clearer prose and a more seamless reading experience.The…

Good day. My name is not important. What matters is what I found… and what I was never supposed to find. This document comes from archived police records dated back to the late 1980s. I discovered it by accident while going through old, partially damaged files. At first, I thought it was just another closed case, something routine, something forgotten for a reason.

One day a terrible plague entered my village and wiped out most of the population. I should have died back then, but my father made a deal with the healer, an old lady whom lived on the edge of our village. In return however we would be enslaved by her, unable to disagree with her and forced to work until we drop. My father knew full well that this was the outcome, but he didn't want to let me go.

Annabella was a Witch, She lived in a house made of sticks. Through the woods, and over a stream Where very few people are ever seen. ~ In the village, she loved a man. Jeremiah, as he stands. But no matter how hard Annabella tried... She could never catch Jeremiah's eye. ~ In her House of Sticks, she cried. Feeling her heart slowly die. But soon a vile plan was born, To get Jeremiah, this, Annabella had sworn. ~ For the toxin of love: an ingredient was needed.

The date was perfect. The kind of perfect that makes you look for the catch. The food was good, the laughter was easy, and the chemistry felt natural. Still, I couldn't help but notice their pants. They were ill-fitted, sagging in the back in a way that looked almost like a diaper butt. It was a bizarre silhouette for someone so otherwise put together. "You look great," I said, leaning in. "But are those pants a little uncomfortable? They seem to sit a bit weird on you."

I put on my running shoes with springs, designed to cushion the impact on the ground. It was my nightly ritual, something I did every single day without fail: running to the neighboring town, keeping my body busy and my mind free of thoughts. It was almost five o’clock, and the sun still stubbornly lingered in the sky, painting everything with a pale golden light.

The Doorman

I lived in an old cabin in the middle of the forest, a place far from people and noise, which was exactly what I longed for. I didn't like being among people or hearing loud voices, so I only went to town to buy food and a few supplies, then I'd return straight to my quiet cabin. Solitude comforted me, and I found everything I needed in the embrace of nature.