“What do you mean, ‘you’re almost there’?” Ralf’s voice was barely audible through the prattle of the nightly downpour. “Past the exit sign.” I leaned closer to the phone holder. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 30 at most.” I tried to come up with a quick estimate how long it would take to unload the hodgepodge of furniture and crates from the estate sale, but Ralf cut me off. “It’s Friday, Frank.” A pause, then: “We said Saturday.” Stumped, I just stared at the phone for a moment. “Seriously?” My schedule had been somewhat chaotic lately, and I was more annoyed than surprised that I had mixed things up. “Yes, seriously,” Ralf said through the rain and what sounded…

The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes, unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.   I must’ve dozed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt…

I want your sickness. You see, I spend my time here, each hour of the day and night, I sit in the shadows just to watch. I study your every move. I know your routine well, in fact. You wake up each night at 03:00, still shuddering from a nightmare, and drag your tired body to the washroom. It gives me such a thrill, this routine, because what you don’t know is that it’s not a nightmare. I am, in fact, only inches away from you. My skinless hand caresses your cheek, I tilt my head to breathe in the warm scent of your neck, the rush of blood pulsing through your fragile veins filling my ears. I press my…

I’ve gotten into some trouble recently, and I need to tell people about it. I need to know if anyone has experienced something like this. I don’t want to be alone in this. I’m really, really scared. Please, bear with me while I explain what happened to me. For the purposes of this, I’m going to remain anonymous, so I don’t complicate my situation further. You’ll find out why in a little bit. I really appreciate you taking your time to hear me out and help me. It all started at school while I was taking a calculus test. The classroom door opened, and a police officer stepped inside. I remember glancing over to him, looking for an excuse to…

Mel would go to his family’s vacation house by the lake during the fall. It was a peaceful community with retired inhabitants. He arrived just as the sun rose over the tree line, having made the late-night drive to avoid traffic. Turning the car into the driveway, he parked it and turned it off. Mel opened the car door, taking a moment to stretch out. Going to the back of the car, he opened the boot, gathered his bags, and took them inside. His parents had left a note on the counter. Walking over, he glanced at the note briefly. The note stated that the pantry and fridge were restocked. If the power were to go out, use the generator…

I think Captain Gold is worried that I’m losing it. Sometimes I think I might be. I haven’t seen Marty for days. He was supposed to meet me at the Larrabee last night, but never showed. I’m starting to get very concerned. Casey is gone. I think I lost her a long time ago, but now she’s gone for good. It occurs to me that I’m jumping ahead of myself. I need to stop and recollect my thoughts. There’s a lot I don’t remember, and even more that I do, but it might not be true. My name is Arthur Spooner. You can call me Spoons. I’m 49 years old and I’m a narcotics detective in Lake Davie, Florida. In…

The following story was originally posted across 8 different installments spanning the months from October to November of 2017. They describe the true events that occurred at a now infamous small town gas station. PART ONE At the edge of our town, there’s a shitty gas station that’s open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. If you were to go inside, you’d see row after row of off-brand chips, cookies, potted meats and ramen. Expiration dates suspiciously missing from canned goods like they were filed off years ago in some misguided attempt to control inventory turnover. A faded “wet floor” sign from way back covering a crack in the foundation by the cooler that has since turned into…

Everyone has that feeling some time in their life. Some able to explain the phenomenon, and others simply cannot. That unknown feeling of someone, or something, watching you. That experience where either dread or curiosity can get the best of you. You could be quietly sitting at home, earbuds in, immersed in your technology when it hits you. You look up from your phone to see your parents sitting, watching television and paying you no mind, and your siblings sitting on the floor; drowned in a video game. But you find no source of the feeling you just had. Some people brush it off, others get paranoid, but some, they find the source. I was one of those people. It…

Hundreds of years ago the earth was flooded – a great flood. One that drowned away the evil of the world. Burying it beneath a great sea. Or so the legends would have you believe. I’ve never been one to place faith in any deities. In this vast world – there are too many different accounts of creation. Too many accounts of gods, goddesses, and the like. An educated person – and I would consider myself well educated – tends to place more faith in science. Such is my story. Yet, as stories often do, all that changed. I no longer question the evil of the world. Or the existence of a higher power. Nothing else could explain what these…

We all make mistakes. It just takes one, little mistake, and everything will be over. I won’t let that happen this time. My girlfriend and I had a fight. It was a stupid fight, and I cannot remember how it started. We’re quiet now, the both of us. I brought us to a nearby lilac field to watch the sunset. The sun disappeared ten minutes ago, and she still hasn’t spoken. Pursing my lips, I reach forward and gently grab the tips of her blond hair to French braid it. I rest my knee against her lower back to keep us close, yearning for her to say something, anything. I know this was my fault. “I’m sorry about yesterday, Liza.…

In the shadowy, pine-filled countryside of Greece, there’s an old legend known to the older locals but half forgotten and unknown to the few young people living there. The legend centres around an eerie stone statue of a little girl named Magda, hidden deep in the local dark pine forest. Magda was the daughter of a wealthy merchant in the late 1800s, a girl with straw-colored hair and a bright, innocent smile. She loved to play with her friends in the forest, especially a peculiar game of their own invention that was a blend of hide-and-seek and statues. The rules were simple: the children would blindfold themselves, and one person would stand by a tree in the distance, reciting a…

When Ray had awoken, he found himself in a damp, bleak, and suffocating room. A dim blinking light was the only thing that illuminated the room. Taking in a deep breath and exhaling, Ray covered a hand over his nose, gagging. The smell of decay, blood, and mildew invaded his nostrils. Where was he? Ray squinted, letting his eyes adjust to the room. The dim light barely lit up anything, making it hard for him to determine his surroundings. Ray looked around from his place on the floor, feeling the smooth texture of wood with some parts where the boards were missing. His hand bumped into something and looking down, Ray held in the urge to scream as he bit…

It’s funny how tales like this cling to you, worming their way into your mind, gnawing away, festering like a wound. They say truth is stranger than fiction, but sometimes the stories we pass down—the ones we whisper in shadowy corners or over drinks at seedy bars—are more chilling and grotesque than any proven fact. This is one of those tales. A fable, sure, but one that sits far too close to reality. Told by those who find comfort in the macabre, and believed by those who understand that the scariest monsters are always human. Ever heard of Helen? The lonely, gaunt old woman who ran that ramshackle diner out on Highway 22—the one no one seems to remember until…

October 29th The announcement hit the internet like a bomb. Cochran Brothers Tech, famous for their viral mobile apps, had outdone themselves this time.  Crypts and Corpses, the latest offering from the tech giant, promised to bring Halloween to life like never before.  It was an augmented reality game designed to transform the last 2 days of the month into a twisted scavenger hunt.  The trailer alone was enough to send chills down spines–grinning skeletons, decaying zombies, and creepy crypts, all superimposed onto real-world locations through your phone. David stood in line at the coffee shop, scrolling through his phone as the buzz about the game raced across social media.  His group chat was already lit. “Yo, you see the…

Mr. Zimmer didn’t want his last Halloween to end like this, alone in a dark cold room, an invalid while children and parents alike roamed the streets outside asking for candy and dressed in costumes. He remembered when he was young and fit, and when he hadn’t shattered his spine by falling off a roof setting up spooky decorations. At his old age, and with what little money his family possessed, it was easier for everyone to toss him into a nursing home. Easier for everyone except Mr. Zimmer himself. It scared him how easily they became frustrated and annoyed by him, a constant factor in their lives that suddenly turned into a burden, just like that. When he was…

“DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK MOTHER FUCKERS, DRINK!” The noxiously artificial taste of blue raspberry slid down my throat with sickening sweetness. This was only my third drink of the evening, but I was already feeling pretty lit. “Alright you, stupid pledges now it’s time for the main event.” I gulped down the last remaining bits of my sugary swill before taking a deep breath. I just needed to make it through one more event and it would all be mine: the booze, the babes, the blow, everything. “Since 1908 every Alpha Delta at the University of Virginia has been bathed in the blackness of the Raven.” A burning belch worked its way up my esophagus. “If you want to be…

I hope this message finds you well. I want to apologize for all the stress I’ve caused these past few months, and the least I can do is explain why I had to leave so abruptly. I do understand if this is a huge red flag to you seeing we’ve only been dating for eight months now. Here goes nothing. October has been an anxiety overhaul since I was ten. Well, even before that if I were to be completely honest. Remember that city I grew up in? That wasn’t true. Never even been to Stockton. You’ll also understand why I don’t bring you around my family too once you’ve finished reading through this. I grew up in a small…

I hate pumpkins, I hate jack-o-lanterns, and I hate Halloween. I guess I hate Halloween mostly because it means I have to see those disgusting things all over the place. On every porch, in every yard, and at every store I see them. They leer at me with crooked grins and empty eyes. Empty eyes that somehow follow my every move. I break out in a cold sweat just thinking about them. Even now I can peer out my window and see one on my neighbor’s stoop. It sits there, still as a cadaver. God, it’s looking back at me, I can feel it. It’s drilling into my skull, my soul. You think they’re horrible too, right? Do you feel…

Dude, I fucked up so bad. Now I’m in the hospital waiting for the cops to ask their questions that I don’t even really know the answers to. Trying to help me get my story straight? Alright man, here goes nothing. So, Ben and I got stuck working an overnight shift at the liquor store since Pops got the bright idea that trick or treaters might stop by throughout the night. We knew it was bogus, but the old dude had his heart in the right place. Ben was pissed. I didn’t care too much because I don’t really do shit anyway. Took it as a free soda kinda night. I got a little stoned before my shift because I…

There are a select few hidden among the population—those who are often keenly aware when they are dreaming. They can recall their dreams in vivid detail for days afterward. People like me, who can lucid dream with little effort. If you’re one of them, you know that lucid dreaming can sometimes draw your consciousness into liminal spaces, places that exist between the familiar and the unknown. One of these spaces is what I call the Pumpkin Farm. You begin on a long, straight road, driving if you have a vehicle license in real life, with a military-tan camping backpack in the seat next to you. If you don’t have a license, you’re riding a bike or scooter, the weight of…