My therapist told me that writing about things could help. She kind of looked away when she said it, so I’m not sure she believes that. If I’m honest, I think she just doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. It doesn’t matter though. I’m gonna write about it anyway. I’m gonna write about it because it DID happen, and it doesn’t matter what she thinks. At least if I post it here, someone might actually read it. If I post it here, maybe it can help. I should probably start with the move. My dad had taken a job outside of Cleveland. It was a spur of the moment thing. He didn’t really have a choice, given the circumstances.…

There’s a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: “To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen.” At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don’t really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who’s had one too many drinks and thinks they’re the next Nietzsche. I’d rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was all too abstract to have any real meaning. But now… now I can’t stop thinking about it. The words gnaw at me. They crawl…

I never thought much about puppets. They were relics of another time, something my grandparents might have found amusing before the age of screens. I’d seen them in dusty attics and antique shops, their faces painted in stiff, eternal grins. They were lifeless, inert things that didn’t deserve a second thought. But that was before it came to town. It started in the early days of October, when the air was thick with the promise of decay and endings. The traveling puppet show arrived without fanfare—no posters, no announcements. One day, there was simply a tent in the empty lot at the edge of town, its canvas tattered but grand, striped red and black like a bloodstained circus. Kids at…

The village of Driftwood Cove sat at the edge of the world—or so it felt. Waves crashed endlessly against jagged cliffs, their spray licking the stones like hungry tongues. The cries of gulls mingled with the low whispers of old sailors’ tales, carried on the wind like secrets best left unspoken. Here, the sea ruled everything, its storms a reminder of its unrelenting power, its rare moments of calm a fleeting grace. At the heart of the village, an ancient inn leaned against the wind, its timbers groaning with age. Inside, villagers gathered in uneasy silence by the hearth, their words low and deliberate. They spoke of a thing—a presence—they called the Lantern Man. “Don’t follow the light.”, muttered old…

My fingers shake involuntarily as I slouch like a giant insect and type this on the computer. I don’t want to write it, but I have no choice but to document what happened here. I could write it slowly, thoughtfully, and clearly, but I can’t—I’ve never been a writer, and I’m in no position to turn this into a professional essay. After all, I have to hurry, we all have to hurry. The pieces of plaster that have fallen from the walls are starting to move like little cockroaches, which means I don’t have much time left. I have to finish this before it gets to me. I can hear the crackle of iron in the pipes behind the wall…

I didn’t remember how I got there. One moment, I was somewhere ordinary—a grocery store, maybe my car—and the next, I was standing in the polished hallway of a sprawling mansion. The floors gleamed like polished obsidian under chandeliers that glittered coldly overhead. The place was immaculate, almost painfully so, but something about it felt wrong. It wasn’t the silence—no, the silence was welcome. It was the way the air pressed down on me, thick and humid, as though the house had lungs, and I was breathing what it exhaled. I wasn’t alone. My brothers were with me, talking quietly near the massive oak doors we’d apparently come through. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their presence was…

When I was young, we were left unattended. My friends and I rode our bikes deep into the fields and returned at our leisure. We rarely played in the same location and often ditched it after a few days. With each new adventure, we drifted further from civilization, and one day, we struck gold, figuratively speaking of course. We came across a massive field which seemed to stretch endlessly in all directions. It appeared to be abandoned farmland, and the grasses and weeds had grown past our waists. The entire area was completely silent as if we had broken the sound barrier, and to some degree, our voices seemed several octaves higher than normal. Whenever we went there, we lifted…

In the late 18th century in upstate New York a pastor and his family; his wife, young daughter, maid and himself were all found dead inside their home. Cause of death was identified as quadruple suicide. The pastor had been devoted to both the church and his family for years, when his behavior suddenly changed. His sermons began spreading fear and paranoia through the town as he claimed that the Devil and his demons had infiltrated the town. He even claimed to have heard the voice of the Devil inside his home, telling him to hurt his wife or to ‘touch’ his own child. The voice even told him to kill his neighbors as they were all two faced liars…

This morning, I cleaned out my closet to create space, and I discovered a plastic bin filled with childhood memories. Being sentimental, I removed the bin and began searching through it. The bin mostly contained artwork from my elementary school years, and the majority of them were scribbles or fingerpaintings on bright construction paper. In particular, a crayon drawing of my entire 3rd grade class drew my attention. I have to say that I must have been quite the artist back in the day because I actually recognized some of my classmates. It helped that I had tried to spell their names next to each stick figure, even if I misspelled them horribly. It just gave me that warm and…

Earlier in the month, I was sitting on my window seat and daydreaming, watching the sun disappear behind the Sierra Nevada mountains. I had been reading a crime novel when I recalled an old family tradition. During the holidays, my mother would light candles and place them on the window sill. As I was growing up, I never knew the real purpose of lighting these candles. I always thought they were a part of decorating our house for Christmas, and my mother insisted that the candles helped Santa Claus see our home as if our tacky Christmas lights weren’t enough. I became intrigued. The tradition of lighting candles dated back to 1171 when King Henry II conquered Ireland and persecuted…

It started when I was six years old. I was in school, it was the middle of a reading lesson, and I needed to pee, badly. At that age, actually, a fair few kids still wet themselves, and I always got paranoid about embarrassing myself in public like that. I stuck my hand up and told Mrs. Zebby that I needed to use the bathroom. After the usual speech about how I “should have gone at break”, she gave me the key to the Disabled-Access toilet (as it was the closest one to my classroom). It was the middle of fifth period, and the corridors were empty and seemed cavernous to me: I was a short, scrawny thing back then.…

You take the pills to keep them away. That’s what we were told when we were first brought down here–down through the sterile white halls with their flickering fluorescent lights, and our small, Spartan cells. Down into the nightmare. Why would we agree to this? I was tired of being homeless. I was tired of smelling like urine. I was tired of the looks that people gave me, like they knew I was there, but if they could just avoid eye contact maybe I wouldn’t talk to them, wouldn’t show up later, in their dreams, tugging at their consciences. I was tired of sleeping on cold concrete every night. I was tired of being so fucking hungry all the time.…

Twice I saw the face in the window, pressed up against the surface, its icy breath fogging the cold glass. At first it appeared strange to me, the skin beneath its eyes drooping in ripples of flesh, exposing the red sensitive strata underneath. It was the winter of ‘83, and I had booked the cabin for three nights – only three. A break was needed, somewhere to relax, somewhere to recover. I’d had a heart attack two months earlier; a painful, excruciating experience which I would not wish on my worst enemy. Lying there sprawled across my kitchen floor, the sharp agony had syphoned through my veins – chest – arm – jaw. I lost consciousness only to find myself…

Doctor Avraham Strauss was confused. In a moment of clarity, he questioned why and how he had come to be walking down this particular corridor, in this castle, at this precise time. Red corridor, Colditz Castle, the middle of winter 1942. How could he, as a Jew, even have considered assisting the Nazis in this horrifying experiment? Yet, he could justify it using the fact that no one else would have given him the support or funding for his research. Yes, to the average person it might seem like a crime against nature, but he knew better. He was creating new life. A new race, a new species for whom war and violence would no longer be necessary. The circumstances…

It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son James was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. James has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly, he never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination. I was in the kitchen feeding our dog Fido, when I heard what sounded like James talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him. When I went into the backyard I was a…

Have you ever had one of those feelings that something was wrong? I don’t mean during the day either, but at night. I mean that sudden unprovoked feeling of dread that commands you to wake. Funny, it’s almost like nocturnal evil gives something off that your sleeping brain picks up on. I had one of those recently. It forced me up at 3 a.m. Normally when you have that feeling you’d lay still feigning sleep, or if you’re feeling adventurous you’d take a quick check around the house. After you failed to discover anything you’d inevitably crawl back to sleep. I should have done that this time. I should have stayed asleep. That night I sat straight up. For the…

I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”

Everyone has tales about the strange and bizarre. My story is about how my half-hole mask saved my life, and continues to save my life to this very day. Late in December, I was traveling north from California to my home state of Oregon. Nothing fancy, I was just going to visit the family for the holidays. On my way north I hit a small snow storm, nothing awful, just a lot of snow falling all at once. I wasn’t worried about the small increase of snow at first, considering I had snow tires installed before I started my long journey home. I did, however, get a little hesitant to drive when the snow started to really come down. The…

My name is Andrew Erics. I lived, once, in a city called New York. My mother is Terrie Erics. She’s in the phone book. If you know the city, and you read this, find her. Don’t show her this, but tell her I love her, and that I’m trying to come home. Please. It all started when I decided, around the time that I turned twenty-five, that it was time for me to give up taking my backpack in to work. It would make me look more mature, I thought, if I weren’t lugging around a book bag everywhere like a high school student. Of course this meant that I had to give up reading in the subway in the…

It all started after moving into my new house. Yeah, that’s pretty cliché. Believe me, I know, but it’s what happened. I never experienced anything supernatural before and, though interested, I never really expected anything to happen to me. I was able to rent the house for pretty cheap. I didn’t think anything of it because it was old and not in the best of neighborhoods so I guessed I just got a good deal. After moving everything in, things were fine for a while. I don’t remember exactly when it started because it seemed so minor at the time. I’d leave a light on in the kitchen or the bathroom and come back to find it off. Honestly, I…

It was a nice summer day, my 5-year-old son James was playing outside in the backyard of our suburban home. James has always been a quiet boy, he plays by himself mostly, he never had many friends, but he has always had a wild imagination. I was in the kitchen feeding our dog Fido, when I heard what sounded like James talking to someone in the backyard. I’m not sure who it was he could be talking to, could he have finally made a friend? Being a single mom it’s hard for me to always keep an eye on my son, so I decided to go outside and check on him. When I went into the backyard I was a…

I’ve been lying down for hours now. It’s 5:35AM and there’s not much I can do. You know what the worst part about my situation is? I’m in the same room with my parents. They keep looking at me, and I can’t help but look back and try not to cry or scream. Their eyes are focused on me and their mouths are wide open. There’s the strong scent of blood and I feel so paralyzed with fear. Here’s the thing. The second I make any hint that I’m not asleep anymore, I’m completely fucked. I will die and there’s nobody around to save me. I’ve been trying to think of a way out but the only idea I have…

It’s Christmas Eve in snowy 1800’s London, England, and in a small house at the edge of town, there lived a lonely, 7-year-old boy named Isaac. Isaac was a sad child with not a friend to his name. While most children were spending time with their families and eagerly looking forward to opening the presents that were placed with care beneath a beautifully decorated Christmas tree, little Isaac spent this most holy of nights alone, in his cold, dusty attic room. Isaac’s parents were very poor, his mother was a strict crow of a woman who stayed at home and schooled Isaac. His father worked long hours down at the London harbour to support his family, although a large portion…

A beautiful young girl is left home alone with only her dog to protect her. On the news that night, they announced there is a serial killer on the loose in the area. Before she goes to bed, she locks all the doors and tries to lock all the windows, but the one in the basement won’t lock. She decides to leave it unlocked, but locks the basement door and goes to bed. Her dog takes its customary place under her bed. In the deep of night she awakens to a dripping sound coming from her bathroom. Half-awake, the girl feels the comforting lick from her dog and falls back to sleep. She reawakens to the dripping sound, reaches her…

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. She explained that it was a storeroom, and that it was out of bounds. She reminded him of this several times before allowing him upstairs. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. However the insistence of the woman had piqued his curiosity, so the next night he walked down the hall to the door…

We all have that one story, don’t we? The one you grow up thinking about, but never actually grow the balls to tell anyone. Well this is my story. I don’t know what I’m hoping to accomplish by telling you. Maybe I’m looking for someone to tell me that I’m not insane, or maybe once I put it on paper it will…Hell, I don’t know. Just someone read this…just please. Let me give you a little background. Twenty years ago when I was eight years old, still living with my mom. My friend Dave and I decided that we would brave “The House”. Now, The House was an abandoned two story home, that had been empty going on ten years,…

During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States involving a strange, human-like creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, as most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed. Primarily focused in rural New York state, self proclaimed witnesses told stories of their encounters with a creature of unknown origin. Emotions ranged from extremely traumatic levels of fright and discomfort, to an almost childlike sense of playfulness and curiosity. While their published versions are no longer on record, the memories remained powerful. Several of the involved parties began looking for answers that year. In early 2006, the collaboration had accumulated nearly two dozen…

* funnymouth has joined #ReferSales. funnymouth: hello everyone tonight funnymouth: i like to lik the bluud funnymouth: out of in the person funnymouth: i see ur handsome face dont b so sad about it funnymouth: come on funnymouth: 🙂 * funnymouth has left #ReferSales. GhostJeorge: … Holy fuck, what the fuck lemonlimeskull: Did that just happen? GhostJeorge: Yes, Skull. Yes it did. The first thing I should probably note is that I’m “lemonlimeskull”. In other words, that’s my screen name up there. That was the first time I saw or heard from “funnymouth”, and for all intents and purposes, it should’ve been the last. Anyone who’s spent enough time chatting away knows that weirdos come and go. Folks pop in…

I’ve never been what you’d call a “gamer”. Sure, I own a console. It’s outdated by now. I like to play the odd game. But that’s about it. I’m almost forty. Old enough now that when I was at the height of my “gaming” years, all that really entailed was getting together with friends to play Mario or Castlevania, or Excite Bike, or Punch-Out. Maybe Sonic if a friend had a Genesis, which no one does anymore. Keeping up with the latest trends in gaming was never interesting to me. I have a lot of interests; reading, watching movies and television, listening to music. But gaming? It was never a hobby. More like a pastime. Like most pastimes, I don’t…

In June 1972, a woman appeared in Cedar Senai hospital in Los Angeles, California in nothing but a white, blood-covered gown. Now this, in itself, should not be too surprising as people often have accidents nearby and come to the nearest hospital for medical attention, but there were two things that caused people who saw her to vomit and flee in terror. The first being that she wasn’t exactly human. she resembled something close to a mannequin, but had the dexterity and fluidity of a normal human being. Her face, was as flawless as a mannequins, devoid of eyebrows and smeared in make-up. There was a kitten clamped in her jaws so unnaturally tight that no teeth could be seen,…