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Okay, let me make this easy by explaining how I did what I did. In Layman’s terms, of course. I like to experiment. Metals, wires, chemicals, those kind of things. I’m not super, super serious about it. I go to college for linguistics, I’m pretty normal. My favorite things to work with are things that the public aren’t really supposed to get ahold of. I did a comparison via microscope of a Cuban cigar to one from Nicaragua, and was actually able to spot some key differences.

There were too many doors in the upstairs hall. Sarah told her parents, but they couldn't see it. They told her not to worry. They told her there was nothing there. But there was an extra door, at the end of the upstairs hall. An extra yellow door, and it didn't belong.

I live in the middle of nowhere, far away from the rest of my friends. I have to wake up very early in the morning to catch my bus and I usually eat my breakfast as it’s bringing me to school. I don’t have any brothers or sisters; There’s just me, the Ziggy the cat, and my Dad. And then there’s Martha, the chronically pissed-off woman who insists that I call her my Mother. But lately I don’t feel so inclined to do so. She’s hardly ever around because it seems like she works every day of the…

A few weeks ago, my parents were driving up to see my cousins. We always visit them during the summer. On the way there, we drove through a little village. Some church by the road was having a car boot sale. A massive banner told us it was in aid of charity.

I wake up feeling a small pain on my upper back. It’s tiny, but noticeable. I know what to expect now. It’s going to be yet another small scratch that seemingly came out of nowhere. My logical mind tells me that it was only me scratching my back while asleep, or my skin just being too sensitive for the sheets and getting cut. I believe my mind, but I still have an eerie feeling about these small scratches. I get up, hobbling over to my bathroom door, sliding it open, hopping up on the counter,…

For the longest time I’ve turned to ASMR to help relax me. ASMR stands for Autonomous Sensory Meridian Response. It’s basically a brain orgasm that is triggered by personal attention, tapping sounds, deliberate tasks, ear or microphone covering— well there’s a multitude of things that can trigger that sort of response. It’s been my go to for anxiety for the last couple of months. You can find these videos easy enough on youtube. I usually listen to MassageASMR before bed.

The farm was left to him after his mother passed away five years ago. He was still in Afghanistan however, so he was unable to make it to the funeral. When he returned back home a year after his mother’s death, there was nobody to meet him at the airport; but Derby Matthews didn’t mind. He never did. Retired now, with fifteen years of military service as a field surgeon under his belt, Derby tucked himself away on the large, lonely farm for what he assumed would be the rest of his life.

Death comes for us all. The intricate design of Death's web spares no one. It is the inevitable reality we all face someday, some sooner than others. But not all of us are unwary of our demise. Not all of us are fortunate enough to live in blissful ignorance, unaware of our own mortality. But once you are caught in the web, like a hapless fly watching as a spider descends upon it, you will see how finite life is. For as easy as life is granted, it can just as easily be taken away.

Today is Tuesday, May 20, 2014 and I am real. At least I think I am. Since 7th grade I have been different than anyone else on the planet. I have something with no name. Something that makes me question the very existence of everything around me. I call it "in somnium ambulat". In Latin it meant "The Dream Walk" and that doesn't even start to cover it. Occasionally, when I dream, I fall asleep. When I wake up I can't tell if it's real life or still a dream. I can live for months at a time in my…

Today is the first day of my new job as a teacher at the high school I once graduated from. Other than the fact at how damn early I had to get up, I was 100% ecstatic and ambitious towards what may happen on my first day back there.. 5:30 AM came all too quickly. I was in and out of the shower, dressed and. Ready, coffee in hand by 5:55 I hastily locked up my apartment and made my way to my car. I fumbled around a little in the darkness while trying to get into my car, but I eventually got it.

I was about twelve years old when my parents sent me to that shit hole. They were so determined to get me to camp. Not just that camp but really any camp. I took it as code for “We’ll-be-at-work-all-week-and-we-don’t-trust-you-alone”. My parents showed me the brochure, it actually looked kind of fun! The picture on the front of the brochure had slides, activities, and really anything that a twelve year old kid would want in a camp. It was pretty legit. The kids all seemed to be having fun in…

It’s 8 PM at the National Science Research Centre Airbourne Warfare Department in Flin Flon, Saskatchewan. The Centre is tiny compared to most others in Canada, only 19 scientists and 127 soldiers. The research teams have all gone but the goons and several care takers are keeping Dr. Byron Floyd company as he watches over the pressure levels for one the new experiments. As he enjoys his dinner of a tuna sandwich and a coke, he presses the same button every 5 minutes. At the 4 minute 51 second…

This Creepypasta is based off of the quietest room in the world. It is supposedly -9 decibels and it is so quite that you can hear your blood in your veins and your heart beat. It has only been sustained for 45 minutes at the most. It causes minor insanity and hallucinations. -----------------------

It was a dark, and stormy night when I write this journal, stating the horrific things I have experience just the other day..

The whistle is considered one of the happiest sounds on earth by many. I'm not one of those people. I hate the sound of whistling. Another thing I hate is the tune of "Oh, Susanna." I can't bare to hear the two combined. Not after that night.

We all know what Hollywood is; it’s the place of dreams and wonder, of glimmer and shine. At the same time, we know that behind the glittering façade, there’s a rotten waste that must be isolated and cut out like a cancer, so the fantasy can be maintained. Those surgeons who deal with Hollywood’s malignant backstage are known as ”the behind guys.” They’re a secretive bunch, obviously, and my father was one of them.

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?…

My friend and I always used to walk through a wonderful, spacious park when we were younger. It was full of tall trees, and it was very nicely maintained. In this large park, there was an abandoned mansion – I can’t really say how long it had been there, but on that day, the front door of the mansion was wide open. The two of us decided to check out what was inside the place. As we inched through the door, the very first thing we noticed was that the mansion’s floor was littered with crumpled…

The digital clock read 3:15 am. I was lying awake, restless, in my bed. There was nothing I disliked more than a long, dreary, and silent night. I sighed, recalling that the nights prior to this one shared a common dullness. I adjusted the sheets in an attempt to cover my exposed feet from the biting cold that the night brought with it. Everything was pretty mundane, until I heard a knock in my room.

Based on personal hallucinations.