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You never thought your life would come down to this, a choice between your heart and your life. Your heart is pounding in your chest like it's trying to make up for years of beats that it may never know, and every breath has an amazing taste, as if the air itself had a flavor. You can hear the waves of the lake, though it's at least five miles outside of town, or is it the blood in your ears that you're hearing, each crash of the waves matching the samba beat of your faltering heart. This must…

Listen, this isn’t some random, creepy story. This is not a creepy pasta. This is serious. Call me crazy. Or superstitious, or whatever. I know what happened. And I wish I could forget. Okay, let me calm down and start from the beginning. First, my name is Carter. And I’m a pretty serious gamer. But, after a recent event with a certain game, I think I might have to change my habits.

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye? A simple movement caught in your peripheral vision. Most will simply dismiss this as a shadow brought about by a flickering candle, or perhaps a pet jumping down from a piece of furniture. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, these people are right.

My whole life is stuck in a routine others seem to benefit from, whereas I only suffer. Day after day, it's the same thing; Smile. Don't complain. Don't burden other people. Be quiet. Smile. Repeat. No one suspected a thing - My lie must have been pretty deceiving. But I could only hope that one day - hopefully one day soon - someone would figure it out, and save me. That day came close, so close that I could taste it, could feel it within my reach, but I messed up. I messed up, and forgot…

I was enjoying the quiet until she started screaming.

I can taste the metallic tang of blood in my mouth. Feel it trickle down from the gash at my hairline. The heat is everywhere. With each breath I inhale hot ash. My throat is dry and scalded. The air around me seemed to burn my skin, biting more viciously at my open wounds and scratches. I stopped shaking a while ago. Now my hands are steady. I’m frozen in fear. I probably make easy prey, but I can’t think of anything else to do now. I’m out of ideas.

May 18, 2011. My name is Greg, I just moved into my new house in Pennsylvania. Me and my Girlfriend have had the house for at least four months now and we've managed to mold it into what we've wanted for years. My Girlfriend, Carmen works almost the entire day so I find myself with the entire new house to myself with a lot of time to kill. But lets just cut to the chase...

02-10-2012

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.

Electrons excite me. Perhaps that is why I took so readily to computers. By the age of 13 I had cobbled together my first computer from the odd bits leftover from the old computers of friends and family. The rush of creation and experimentation that I felt that day has never been matched, but my experiments are getting closer to recapturing that glory.

When I was young, I lived on a farm in rural Oregon with my parents. I was the only child. We weren’t a big commercial farm. Just a family-type thing. We had five cows, three horses, a small herd of goats, two dogs, and one chicken coop. We also had some Indian Runner ducks we kept mostly as pets. We didn’t really make any money off the place, just enough to sustain the animals and a little extra for ourselves. Money enough to take a decent vacation every couple of years. Dad had his other job…

Mark sighed and looked out at the night sky. He was standing on the roof of his apartment building, four stories up. Sometimes Mark just liked to stay up here and reflect, it was quiet and peaceful. Looking down you could see the normal hustle and bustle of city life but if you looked up you could see the beautiful sky, and sometimes even a full moon or some stars.

A lot of these stories start off with, "I don’t know why I’m writing this." Well, this isn’t one of them tales. In fact, I knew full well I should be writing this, even though I was told not to. I can’t in good conscious not tell this story.

I was so happy to get this computer. For the last three years I’ve been on a laptop. Long story, boring, but let’s just say a fire took out my desktop and half the apartment complex I lived in while I was at school, and the insurance money would only cover a laptop.

I never regretted working in that charity shop. It was strictly volunteer stuff, only on weekends and a few solitary evenings. The shop was small and cramped, and we never got many visitors, so my lonely shifts were, more often than not, spent quietly sitting at an abandoned counter.

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.

One of the first memories I could recall was my father leaving the family. He didn’t speak a word to us, just walked toward the groves. I never saw him after that day. The part that disturbed me most was how everyone else took this. They all just stood there, watching on with knowing eyes. As if they knew that this day would come eventually.

My parents died in a car crash when I was fourteen. Don't feel bad for me or anything. I've made my peace with that years ago. Life with them was never great, but I do miss them. It's just that if they taught me one thing it's to not sit around wallowing in self-pity. I just wish they hadn't sent me to live with my Aunt Louise.

I ran, I ran as fast as my legs could take me. The acrid smell building inside the hallway made it hard to breathe. I was getting more tired and tired as each ounce of air was released from my lungs. For I knew he was getting closer, I knew that he would eventually grasp my arm with tremendous force, smashing it. I needed to get away. I needed to leave. I woke up sweating with tears coming from my eyes, probably from the fear of my dream. I stood up and before I could even put on any close, my…

I’ve worked in prisons for the criminally insane for 10 years now, and I can honestly say I wouldn’t change my job for the world. With any hard work rehabilitation is possible, and I believe true justice can be served. I remember my first day vividly, how terrified I was to do night shifts. How uneasy I got walking that long dark, silent corridor. That phrase you hear on your first day sticks with you forever. “Eyes down, keep right.”