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Polybius is an urban legend about a rare arcade game released in 1981. The game was created by a mysterious company called Sinneslöschen (German for "Sense Deletion") and was a puzzle/shoot-'em-up somewhat like Tempest. It was only released in a few suburbs of Portland, Oregon.

We see the same faces passing by every day, my faithful wife and I. Ghosts walking by our windows, their faces gaunt and pale. Their speech slurred, almost hauntingly so. They held up signs, although most of which read similar messages. “Will work for food,” “Feed me,” “Spare change?” You had to feel sorry for the beggars and homeless on the streets when you run a respected, neighborhood diner.

I don’t feel like I’m a nosy person. No more nosy than the next guy. I just have what my Ma would call an unhealthy amount of curiosity. I was the kid who climbed to the top of the big oak in the back yard, just to see what was in the crows’ nest. I was the kid who dug a hole in the back yard so deep that I hit groundwater because I was convinced there was a cave under our house, and I wanted to see it. To see.

Rose Hill Place April 11th Rose Hill Place was a rather indefinable place, all things considered. Nothing about it made it stand out to passersby, nothing in its halls to make it appeal to those who came and visited. It was exactly what it appeared to be: a single-floor complex with over a hundred rooms and three dining halls, enough to fit all who lived there and the occasional guest.

This isn't actually my story. It was related to me, a while ago, by an elderly gentleman that frequented a convenience store I worked at. I think back to that night where I followed him to the junkyard, and my hair still stands, along with that quiver of gooseflesh that has nothing to do with the temperature.

I sit up with a jolt, disorientated. If it weren’t for the sensation of my eyelids coming together to shield my eyes, I would not be able to determine whether or not they were open. The inky blackness presses In from all angles, suffocating me. You’d think after all the time I’ve spent trapped in this murky prison I’d have adjusted. No, it’s still quite a shock to be released from the depths of unconsciousness, only to be greeted by an infinite plain of shadows.

There had been many rumors of a shooting that was supposed to take place today. All these rumors had me on edge all day and I was still fidgeting in my seat even though I knew it would be fine and nothing would happen. It was lunch time when the school shooting was supposed to happen and that’s where I find myself right now. All I can think is that a school shooting would be such a terrible thing...

Every now and then, I get a snatch of a song running through my head. When that happens, it can drive me nuts, and it's a devil of a time trying to get another song in there to replace it. It's gotta be another song, though. I can't ever just have a head full of peace and quiet. Sometimes the song I try to listen to and replace the persistent one will instead mix with it, creating this weird cacophonic mash-up in my skull that makes me want to stab somebody.

This isn't a confession. You can't prove a damn thing, so don't even try. I'll deny it to my grave. I'm on my third drink for the evening anyways. You can't trust the word of a drunken man. That's when I start to feel anything these days, the third drink. Sometimes it takes four, but usually three will do. It's the same cycle every night for weeks now, I drink, then I start to feel, then the fear comes over me, then I drink some more until I pass out.

The scene: An idyllic houshold, with no peculiarities. The cast: A traditional nuclear family, living caricatures from a Norman Rockwell piece. The parents make small talk as they all eat a breakfast of bacon and eggs. The children hurriedly scarf down the meal, eager for school. The mother picks up the dishes and together they walk out the door to begin the day. Their footsteps make no noise as they walk on the black dirt where grass grew once upon a time. The father takes a whiff of the…

Thoughts of Thai food from the place around the corner cluttered my concentration as lunchtime crept ever closer. No one makes hotel reservations in December. By now, virtually all rooms were booked and the best rates were a Summer memory. Still, there is always a chance for a last minute booking so I waited, at the ready, for anything resembling a call. Two clear tones signaled an incoming call. I glance at the clock. "Of course, just before I clocked out," I thought to myself.

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.

While honeymooning in Maine, my wife and I stopped in the picturesque town of Boothbay on a particularly dreary and rainy day. Since our planned picnic was out of the question, we sought shelter in a dilapidated little antique store near the harbour. While my wife inspected the large chests and side tables near the door, I eagerly examined the antique tools and seafaring equipment inside the glass sales counter at the back. Being a collector of optics and mariner’s instruments, I hoped to find…

In the first quarter of 2012, a scientist named Alexander Stuart Khaimov discovered a technological means to immortality. That is to say, Dr. Khaimov fulfilled one of the longest running pursuits of the human race – the desire to defeat death.

Moving into a new apartment wasn't easy when I first started college. The main issue was the rent. I couldn't pay it alone so I started networking and getting to know other girls. Callie was the first friend I met and after a few weeks of getting to know each other she decided to move in. We were still struggling so we took on another girl, Amber. Our apartment was beautiful and it didn't take long until we filled it with everything that we loved. The time we spent together was great and I even…

A few months ago a friend of mine, who is an up-and-coming nature photographer, decided to spend a day and night alone in the woods outside of our town. She wanted to get photos of the woods and wildlife as naturally as she could for her portfolio. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, as she had camped by herself many times before.

Around me are the sounds of panic and horror. Gunshots fill the once silence air and people in white lab coats are screaming and running past my room. I know they are because I can see them through the reflective wall that shows my own reflection. How is this possible you might ask? Well, I was once the hope for humanity. This is how it began. I was thirteen and still had some sort of life stitched together if you could call it that. My father was nonexistent and my mother trying to form a…

“…Victims of these horrific crimes were reported to have their limbs either extremely mutilated or completely sawed off. He or she is targeting only women so far. The culprit still has not been caught and is still on the rampage…”

Until my mid-teens I hadn’t lived in one house for more than I year. Though I’ve now been living in this house the longest, and my family thinks of it as home since we pay mortgage on it, I’ve always felt that my earlier houses were home. The “Yellow House” wasn’t one of those. I lived there before I entered school so my memory of the pale yellow house fuzzy, but almost all of my memories in that house took place upstairs in the converted attic where my siblings and I had our rooms. The house…

Have your ever seen something in your life that you just cannot explain? Do you feel like if you ever mentioned it to somebody else, they would look at you like a raving lunatic? I certainly do.