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it all started on one day when i was in my room casually reading my story book " TERRIBLE DAY OF NIGHTS " then my mom called me from downstairs ''hey honey , come down your dinner is waiting for you mainly don't be late or else your dinner will get cool down so better come fast as you can " . I went downstairs and saw my mom and dad looking at me weirdly i asked them " why are you looking at me like im a ghost ?" , but they just nodded no nervously as i came to eat near dining table they…

The ring light is staring at me like a cold, neon eye. I hate how much I need it. "Okay, so for the night-time routine, consistency is literally everything," I tell the camera, rubbing the serum into my cheeks. I'm watching the little heart icons bubble up the side of the screen. 1.8k viewers. My pulse does that little flutter, the one that feels like winning. "If you aren't double-cleansing, you're basically just..."

It was a dusty night, the sun had set over the horizon leaving the mesas scattered in a navy blue almost green shade. The cowboy had been traveling for weeks now, his horse tired and both were desperate for a peaceful night's sleep. Luckily for the pair there was a town just above the horizon, no lights left on but a faint peaceful glow surrounding a few of the houses. The cowboy clicked his tongue aiming his horse northwest toward the town. A small kick of spurs sent the horse trotting quickly…

There she is the center of my affection. The reason I wake up in the morning. I have heart palpitations because of her. Jessica Mackenzie. I have known her ever since preschool, and I have been in love with her since. I have tried to confess my feelings to her, believe me I have, but every time I see her, I freeze up and bite my tongue. She was always sociable. Like the planets that revolve around the Sun, she could pull people into her orbit.

In the early 1990s, police in Germany found something strange at a crime scene. A trace. A tiny piece of DNA. At first, it meant nothing. Just another clue. But then… it showed up again. Another crime. Different place. Same DNA. Months passed. Then years. The same DNA kept appearing—at burglaries, thefts, and other serious incidents. Not just in one city, but across regions… even in nearby countries like Austria and France. Police started to realize something unsettling.

I’m writing on here about a missed connection. I was at the Bernard Mall retro game store around 3 pm on Saturday. You were in the fantasy aisle. Your hair was a shining auburn that graced your gentle frame, and when you turned to me. Your eyes lit me up like the mystical northern lights. Their hazel flecks danced even in the dull lighting, and you smiled. And your blushed cheeks a shade of rose so sweet a hummingbird would confuse you for a bloom.

This Is How You Teach a Child to Die Slowly. "I exist in two places: here, and where you left me." — Margaret At wood. • There it goes again. It starts with a frightening silence. Then… slam! "Jesus!" my mother screams, like she's just realized how close she is to actually meeting Him. We run again. My brothers dive under the bed. My sister clings to my mom, as though she's thinking "maybe this time, she'd actually go, and I can go with her."

Last Tuesday, I noticed a new app on my phone called "Follow the Leader." No icon, just a white circle on a black background. Being bored and fourteen, I opened it. It was just a GPS map of my neighborhood with two dots: a blue one for me and a red one about three streets over. A text popped up at the bottom: “The Leader is moving. Keep up.”

5/22/-99999999999… ... A figure stands in a room unlike anything found on Earth. It is carved from ornate quartz and gold, its walls lined with massive pillars that stretch impossibly high, their peaks lost to a distant, hazy ceiling. Light drifts through the space without a clear source, catching along polished surfaces and scattering into a dull, colorless shimmer. The air itself feels heavy, as though it holds the vast weight of the universe.

okay, so.. today I was playing the original 1989 super Mario land on a game-cube I got from a yard sale.. but, I started noticing some strange things like faces in the backgrounds of the levels, like.. weird large JAGGED grins. I tried searching it up on my phone to see if that's a known bug, nothing on reddit nothing on tik-tok OR you-tube.. just nothing, NOTHING. it was like the internet went dark or something aside from occasional emulators popping up here and there as that was the usual…

Growing up, my family was like a bunch of nomads. We never settled in one place for long. Anytime my father’s job called for it, we would uproot our lives and head on to the next big thing. This meant ending friendships and enrolling in school time after time. It was frustrating having to repeatedly sever my ties with the friends I made, and the little nest I crafted for myself. But as a ten-year-old kid, who was I to complain?

9/9/2010 ... [I.You.Me has entered the chat] I.You.Me: hi I.You.Me: hi I.You.Me: who are you I.You.Me: i am you I.You.Me: no i am me who are you I.You.Me: i am you I.You.Me: you are me I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: then who am i I.You.Me: me I.You.Me: we are me I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: we are you I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: we are me are you I.You.Me: yes I.You.Me: we are one I.You.Me: no I.You.Me: we are not one I.You.Me: we are one but also two I.You.Me: how I.You.Me: i dont know

I was quietly sleeping reminding myself of the ol boring school stuff. Nobody ever had a chance to get vacation as i did. We went to a nearby forest at alaska. I loved alaska and always wanted to visit it. Huge thanks to my dad who accepted it. My dad was a veteran animal hunter. My mom was a skiled nurse and self defense trainer. Im a loving artist. I love to draw and sing. The night felt big. Long. Shivered. Almost frozen. As my eye saw nothing but darkness. When i woke up. My body was unable…

9/9/2010 ... Syrup1292: I think for our final we should go with just a normal trifold. Dangerturnip: Nah, that’d be so boring. Think about it. We’re competing with the bigwigs here. The straight-As are gonna go big. We need to stand out. Syrup1292: But it’s haarrrd. We need ideas. Dangerturnip: Maybe something performative? Syrup1292: We haven’t even chosen a topic yet. Dangerturnip: Well, do you remember anything we learned this year?

I stand in a dark room. It is very large and I can barely see the black outlines of the walls. Around me are golden cages which hang from the ceiling by long chains. Peering into them, I see the most peculiar objects; much like the strange ornate cages, gold glints through many of the bars. There are crowns, golden bars, sceptres with emeralds and other gems embedded in their hilts, golden necklaces and lockets amongst other things. One has bronze weighing scales. Other cages have bones in…

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.

This story is based on the chilling true events that inspired A Nightmare on Elm Street the "Asian Death Syndrome" cases of the 1980s, where young men died in their sleep after experiencing petrifying night terrors. Asher hadn't slept in four days. He kept his eyes pried open with caffeine and the sheer terror of what was waiting behind his eyelids.

Tick tock tick tock. The clock chimed midnight. The air feels cool and clammy on my skin. I shiver and draw the covers up around my chin. I can hear the footsteps as they hit the bottom of the stairs slowly ascending to the landing. I feel the fear rising in my chest as I do every night.

Someone asked me, “Who are you?” I answered quickly, “I’m glory.” But they smiled. They looked into my eyes, not kindly. “No,” they said, “Who are you?” The question didn’t leave. It followed me home, sat at the edge of my bed. Who am I? Who is glory? I try to think. A depressed soul? Too easy. A tired one? That’s just the surface. Glory. Glory. Glory. I’m limited by my problems, That I can't see past them. Glory. Glory. Glory. Say it enough times,

The PHEN-228 Incident (The Boiled One) In the late summer of 2003, a broadcast hijacking occurred in Southern Pennsylvania that would change the lives of 530 people forever. This is the story of The Boiled One Phenomenon, a terrifying example of a "cognito-hazard" an idea so dangerous that simply knowing it can destroy you.