#creatures

The PHEN-228 Incident (The Boiled One) In the late summer of 2003, a broadcast hijacking occurred in Southern Pennsylvania that would change the lives of 530 people forever. This is the story of The Boiled One Phenomenon, a terrifying example of a "cognito-hazard" an idea so dangerous that simply knowing it can destroy you.

MYSTICISM. Mandala of the Seasons the Cycles of Life. Arising In the Mind with Jnana Yoga Way of Savant Knowledge and simultaneous Siddha Yoga of Esoteric and Occult Effects. Savage through the Ages with Mountain Lion nicknamed Shambala Familiar to be savage growing Mystically with the same Mountain Lion Familiar.

Mandala of the Seasons. Arises In the Mind to Meditation, Enlightenment and Nirvana All things blown out THE Void. The Sabbatic Goat of Mendes corresponds to Adam Kadmon of Hermetic Qabalah and Ymir the Frost Giant, also Greek God Pan In THE Void.

It was a cold winters afternoon, soft flurries of snow were gathering on the boys window sill, much of it piling in a clump on his timbered bedroom floor, unfortunately his window panes, which were designed to keep him from catching a flu, had been shattered.

Every Easter, we get ready for Big-Eared John's arrival. No one really knows how long we've been giving to Big-Eared John. Only know it’s longer than anyone in the town or even their ancestors can remember. Once in church a few years back, I saw slack-jawed Sally ask preacher man when Big-Eared John first came to our town, and he backhanded her right there in front of the whole congregation. That’s when we knew never to question how he came to be. Only that he was, and we were to do as we were…

Every neighbourhood has a place children are warned never to cross. A tunnel, a fence, a creek, sometimes just a street or an abandoned house. A line drawn in fear, and if you dare step past it, something bad will take you. In my town, the forbidden zone was a decommissioned storm drain at the edge of town.

I always liked the stories my dad would tell me, the time he met the devil, times he almost died. But one story stood out to me. In 1977 he moved in to the house we still live in, they lived peacfully for 3 years until one day on 10/20/1980 at 3:33AM my dad and his brother mele were outside in the backyard fixing the bike they had gotten from the dumpster. Until my dad saw somthing tall pale with long arms and legs, human hair, toothless, wide mouth staring into their souls behind the fence…

This used to happen to me quite often when I was younger, but lately I have had “different” experiences. To start with, I would like to say that this is all true. Everything I write here is fact, and you don’t have to believe me.

I’ve been a Cleaner at the Association for six years now, and in that time, I’ve seen my fair share of strange and horrifying things. I still can’t decide what’s worse—the half-decayed corpses of creatures that shouldn’t exist or the Wardens, walking around freely, who can transform into absolute monsters in the blink of an eye. But the strangest, most unsettling experience of my life didn’t involve blood or gore. It involved a series of conversations I’ll never forget.

“…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…”

My wife and I always dreamed of living off-grid on our own land, but we were never able to afford anything—not even a small quarter-acre lot. We were sick of paying rent for shitty houses and apartments that charged way too much for the condition they were in, so we started wondering if there was anywhere we could actually afford to live.

The Hellhounds are each Mind Merged In THE Void and Linked Up with each Other as a Platoon. They Sense what to Hunt in the most ancient woods attackers who are guilty and who especially deserve to die being murderers who hurt people who could not fight back. Three Demon Hellhounds. Three cabins in the most ancient woods. Looks barren to murderers. Who hurt people in the middle of nowhere. They follow a group of young people into the woods, and kidnap them, torture, and rape them.

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.

Old father long-Legs Can’t say his prayers. Take him by the left leg And throw him down the stairs. And when he’s at the bottom, Before he long has lain, Take him by the right leg And throw him up again. ~ Nursery rhyme

At the outset, I should tell you I’m a thief. Not a classless “smash and grab” guy or a lowly pickpocket. Those require no planning or strategy beyond “move quickly and be ready to run.” I’m a fourth-generation cat burglar. I’m very good at my job. If everything goes right, you don’t notice I’ve been there for weeks. If ever.

It started with a whisper faintly appearing on the wind. ‘Psst.’ Larineth glanced around the field she was in, and after not seeing anyone, she went back to her task: picking the most beautiful flowers she could find and laying them in a basket. Today was her birthday, and she had proudly told anyone that she met that she was turning nine years old today, and soon she would be an adult just like them. ‘Psst.’

When I was a child, I recall a show called Fear the Devil; it was something that my parents allowed me to watch. They thought it was just another biblical show in a similar vein to content like VeggieTales and The Beginner’s Bible. It was created in 1999 and ran for thirteen episodes before it was pulled from the air. Private schools and churches refused to play it, and anyone who discussed it in too much detail risked being kicked out permanently.

To start off, the name’s Jay, and honestly, I never really wanted to tell this story. For years, I buried it deep, locked it away like a nightmare too awful to face. But now as I sit down and write this, I realize I owe it to the children who didn’t survive and to ones like me who still carry the scars. Looking back, I wish I had just relied on E3 and other events or just never went to anything Nintendo-themed at all.

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…

An account written before the silence ends If you’re reading this, there’s a good chance I’m already dead. I’m not sick, and nobody has given me some terrible diagnosis or told me I have three days left to live. Something is coming for me, and it’s outside the room right now.