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Ghosting Hour - The Last Days of Raoul Makumbe Remake 2026 Copyright: Andre Michael Pietroschek Disclaimer: No warranties! I use Grammarly Proofreading, which includes AI that I cannot turn off, and a wonderful rephrase tool that explains to me, WHY Native speakers would never speak like us Non-Native speakers consider it to be!

From the moment I closed my eyes to the accident I had gotten myself into, I knew that it would never be the same ever again. Never would I have guessed though, that I would survive pretty much unharmed. Well... that's still a bit of an understatement. My arms and legs work the way they're supposed to. But my mind... not so much anymore. I've started to see things. The world and the people have changed since the moment I woke up. It's almost as if I've entered another world entirely.

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.”

Outlaws sucked. It was just another shithole bar in Columbus, Georgia. One of many I might add. Not that I was an expert given I wasn’t much for the party scene. This college student struggled to meet friends, much less find girls who wanted to talk to me. I had no wingman after all. No one to go out with.

Jacky's Prince Of Dreams 1.5+ Psychic Crime Fiction by Andre Michael Pietroschek Disclaimer: No warranties!

Unfortunately, my brother is a bit of a loner. He likes to be alone most of the time and loves playing video games. He doesn't have many friends because he's not very social. I don't remember much about him, and his memories are almost forgotten, but there's one thing that my family and I all remember: Nan 102. I don't know how to explain it. It might sound silly and illogical, but, my brother, all I remember from that night and that incident is that he was playing a video game. He was playing…

You will dream of me. You will dream of me. You will dream of me. I will appear to you every night. And frighten you, and you will think I am just a ghost. I will appear in your worst nightmares. I will be your worst fear. I will be your fear. You will dream of me. You will dream of me. I am not just a ghost. I am not just a ghost. You will find me watching you every night.

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.

Feedback "This, too, shall pass." — Persian Proverb . . I woke up lying on the cold floor, my cheek pressed against splinters. No wind. No storm. No voices. Just quiet. Dry, suffocating quiet. Dust drifted in the shafts of pale light like falling ash. My mouth tasted like old rust. I stood slowly, my footfalls creaked loud in the emptiness, and wandered into the bedroom. There, resting on the bed, was my notebook.

I've been such a coward. Never before have I stooped this low. Never before have I done something like this out of fear. Yes, it's all because of a fear that can thoroughly be explained and the reason is an understandable one. But somehow the feeling I got from doing it hasn't left me. It's like it's slowly rubbing my back, poisoning my skin. It has burned itself deep into my soul and the chills I got from that day still haven't disappeared in the slightest. I dislike this feeling.

I remember the day because nothing about it felt wrong at first, and that’s what makes it stay with me. The normal days are the ones that rot the deepest when something inside them isn’t right. My name is William Marston, and I teach children how to put their thoughts on paper, how to shape fear into something harmless, something you can hold at arm’s length and say, “this is only a drawing.” I believed that. I needed to believe that. So when I told them that morning to draw a monster—anything…

You wake up in a cramped, windowless room, and see blood on the walls. As you walk a little, you trip over something and look underneath… It's a small child's skull. Looking closer, you notice his clothes. You wake up from this terrifying dream… But you realize you're still stuck in the same place, and that it wasn't a dream. Blood is everywhere, and you've been sleeping next to your little brother's skull for about three weeks. You keep forgetting why you're there, how it all happened…

Like most people of my generation, I'm a huge SpongeBob fan. Back then, the internet was relatively new it was 2010. I was browsing through SpongeBob related stuff when I suddenly saw a strange link. I don't remember the exact details, but I do remember the website's logo; it was red, and the link read: "SpongeBob Episode “This Is Not Hell."

I don’t remember falling asleep, and that’s the part that keeps scratching at me the most. There was no slow drift, no soft surrender into dreams, no moment where the world dimmed and gave me permission to leave it. One second I existed somewhere real—my room, I think, something familiar, something that should have grounded me—and the next I was standing on a sidewalk that stretched too far in both directions, like it had forgotten how to end. The sky above me was a pale, exhausted gray, not…

During late June of 2023, reports surfaced from the southern United States about a strange creature. It once gained some attention in an obscure article before mysteriously being wiped off the face of the internet. Most sightings occurred in Georgia, with older reports dating back to March of the same year. Witnesses have described an unknown creature who had the appearance of a white bird-headed animal with empty eyes and a black lizard-like body.

"Hello everyone" Rene greets after opening the door and putting the key in his pocket. "Hi Rene" Elina returns the greeting. Randy is playing at something on the computer. Erick is in the kitchen. "What are you cooking?" asks Rene. "Squid. They were on sale." "Smells good." Rene approves and continues toward his room. He runs into Freddy in the hallway. "How was everything today?" "The usual, Fred, the usual. Marcos?" "He's in his room, writing, don't bother him, you know how he gets."

18th January 2016 You: "Yeah men, I´m sure I´m here, in front of my apartment building." Charles: "But I still can´t see you Ray." You: [You sent a photo] "See Charles? I´m right here." Charles: [Charles sent a photo] "Look Ray, I´m on same spot..." You: "What... the actually... fuck...?" Charles: "Hey bro... I have an idea... Can we go to the Penn station?" You: "Ehmm... Okey, but only if we stay texting." Charles: "Of course. Im little scared too." You: "I did... never mind."

My name is Michael, I'm 30 years old. I live alone in a rented apartment. The silence is maddening. The rare hammering of new neighbors is almost pleasing — you know that feeling. I turn on the TV just so I'm not bored and at least I can hear someone's voice. One day I decided to visit my aunt. The road was long, but what can you do? Anything to not be lonely. I packed a small bag — just some clothes and a phone charger. I didn't even check if she was home. I just needed to drive.

I wake with searing pain in my right arm. My left feels fine. My left hand tightly clutches my bedsheets and duvet. I squint in the silvery moonlight that flows from my white four-paned Georgian bedroom window. I can’t see much. Just the blur of the moon. I blink. My eyes are watery. My internal clock tells me it’s the early hours of the morning, but it isn’t always reliable. I feel pain. But it is feels dull, numb and distant. I breathe in. The air feels clean and pure at least.

I work as a night-shift moderator for a major social media platform. My job is simple: I watch the videos that the AI flags as "disturbing" before they go live, and I hit Delete or Approve. You see things that change you—car crashes, animal cruelty, the worst of humanity. But after six months, you go numb. Until last Tuesday. The AI flagged a video titled IMG_00042.mp4. It was only twelve seconds long. The thumbnail was just a dark room. I clicked play.