#creatures

You may have heard about the Dandy Corporation's modern-day ghost towns. A company as large and as long-lasting as Dandy Co. is bound to make a few mistakes, and when they do, it's often cheaper to just ignore them than to throw good money after bad.

In highschool, I had this friend who had really weird dreams. We would drive to school in the morning and she would tell me about them. They all had the same premise, and they all started a little ways into our junior year.

There was three of us that night; James, Daniel and I. We had spent an entire month planning our Holiday in the Hoia-Baciu Forest. We've read stories, upon stories regarding the paranormal shit that has occurred within the locality, and we somehow considered it a fascinating idea to venture out there as a camp-out experiment. I was nervous nevertheless, but it didn't intimidate me whatsoever, and there was also three of us. Nothing could go wrong... as I thought.

My room is tiny. Of course, that’s because it was built for efficiency. I don’t know if you’ve ever stayed in a dorm room, or even seen one for that matter, but I can tell you after having lived in one for the past four years: they’re built like stackable sardine containers. My five star, luxury quality, thousands of dollars per semester, individual dorm room measures in at a whopping 9×12 feet! I mean it’s practically a suite in the Hilton! You’re right, sarcasm doesn’t read easily in a diary.

I’ve been thinking of him-er-her (it?) for the past week. I haven’t been able to sleep. I’ve barely eaten anything. I quit my job. Or stopped going to work is more like it. I assume I’m no longer employed there. My eyes are sunken in. I sit at my computer day and night mindlessly trying to keep myself entertained… or awake, more importantly. For if I sleep I’m afraid I may never wake up. I’m afraid he - she - or, it will get me. I don’t know what I mean by “get”. I don’t believe it was out to…

I enjoy picking locks… That may sound like a strange hobby, but if you search it on YouTube you’ll get thousands of hits. It has quite a fanbase. I developed quite a talent for locksport by the time I was 16, and could pick just about anything – anything that is found on your average house or shop, that is – but a Multilock or Medco; although, I had succeeded with the latter after almost an hour of sweaty, hand-cramping work.

I was a junior in college in the fall of 2012. I had managed to convince my parents to let me take over their place while they vacationed in the French Riviera (don’t ask, dad worked for a huge company, he was a higher-up.) I aspired to be a musician, and they were willing to do just about anything to keep me in school. I told them, if I was going, I wanted to go all the way and at least get my M.A., and they had no argument, even offered to foot the bill for school, books, etc. However, I was…

It began in an attic; dim and eerie with nothing visible past two feet ahead of you. I don't know what I was doing there to be honest, all I know is, I woke up there with no memory of how I happened to be in that room. The worst part of it was… my house didn't have an attic, meaning I was in someone else's home I didn't know of. There was a thick silence that was almost suffocating to me because the smallest of movements that I made sounded throughout the entire room.

I wake up to the sound of sizzling oil and the smell of eggs. I bring my hands up to my face and I am met with caked blood on my wrists. It is not surprising anymore. I hear tiny feet pad down the hallway and my brother opens my door. "Ada, breakfast is ready," Timothy says. I chuckle. He still has not managed to get his lisp under control.

Timothy had always loved Christmas. It was his favorite time of year. He loved the lights, the music, the presents, the movies, the laughter… he loved it all.

Long black hair draped down in twisted, wet tendrils, her head cocked to one side as the TV blared in front of her. "HEY!" I shouted again, trying to project my voice over the noise, "HELLO?!" Her head didn't move, not so much as an inch, just stayed utterly stagnant, facing away from me, her body sitting upright on my couch. "HELLO!?" I again cried, slowly setting down my keys in the entryway, yet keeping my shoes on as I began creeping forwards hesitantly. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

I must confess this process hasn't exactly been easy for me. Wading through the memories of what happened feels like digging through the rubble of your home after a tornado. You look for anything worth salvaging. And try to ignore the rest. Those three days feel like an exposed nerve in my mind. The wounds, both physical and mental, are still fresh. But this is a process, and my shrink says the best way to heal is by facing the trauma head on. So I force myself to remember it one more time to…

My father's family home was just a little under two hours away by car from where we lived, a small village surrounded by farmland. I often stayed with my grandparents during my summer vacation and winter breaks from school, and they were always happy to play with me... but the last time I visited them was over ten years ago now, when I was still in my third year of high school. It was my Spring break and I had been invited to visit; and since the weather was good, I rode my bike out to their…

It was annoying at first. The occasional creaking of the house, power shortages, no heating, things you would expect to find in a small town up in Scotland. Since I had lived here for a good four years I had gotten used to those events occurring. Gradually it got worse. The power would stay out for hours, sometimes even days. The cold winds would shake the old house, I stopped bothering to light candles when the lights died. The currents of air would just seep through the cracks around the…

May 17th of 2011 was my finals week. I was quietly working on a study guide in the Earth Sciences department. Being surrounded by the fossils somehow made me feel less stressed about finals. Many of them were simply beautiful, with their natural curves set in stone. All of them, from ammonite shells to mammoth teeth, were arranged in a chronological fashion, from oldest to the youngest.

Throughout my time observing the everyday activities of humans, I've noticed several quirks about them. Many of these can be used to my advantage. One such quirk is that people seldom look up. Whether sitting alone in a dark room, running panicked through a forest, or dining in a crowded restaurant, they rarely glance skyward. I'm uncertain of the reason for this lack of upward glances, but it works in my favor.

This is a set of instructions for how to speak with the Devil. Which, as those of you with any sort of brains at all might note, is a patently moronic proposition on the face of it; one likely to culminate in any number of thoroughly unpleasant fates. Honestly, it would probably be smarter to publish your credit card number on Facebook, or take up a career in crocodile-wrestling.

Larson woke up startled in the middle of the night. He clutched his chest with his tiny hand trying to dull the sharp pain in his heart. As he gasped for air, he desperately tried to remember what his nightmare had been about. He looked over at his alarm clock and discover it was 4:58 AM. He began sobbing and thought about calling out for his mom to come calm him down, but he couldn’t bring himself to make a sound. That’s when he realized that he was not the source of the sniffling and heavy…

I made a mistake. Maybe I should say it in a way that conveys how critical the mistake was— I fucked up really bad. Funny thing is that doesn't truly describe the severity of it either. I guess I'll start by letting you know that I am an alcoholic. I go to work every day and have never lost a job or relationship due to my drinking, but I feel like I must drink just to feel normal. My alcoholism is simply defined as me enjoying being drunk more than sober.

“Go to bed and wait for the Sandman.” Even as it came out of James’ mouth it seemed to him a strange thing to say, and he was not sure why he had, but for some reason it worked: Daniel went to bed. The next morning, though, he asked: “What does the Sandman look like?” James was making breakfast. Daniel sat at the table, short legs swinging under his chair. “Nothing, really,” James said. “It’s just an expression.” “What does it mean?”