#creatures

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.

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.

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…

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…

In case you’ve been following along with the events at the gas station on my blog, I apologize that my website was taken down so abruptly. For some reason, the city council found my public record of local events to be “troubling”--to the point that they hired a fancy Orwellian legal team to bury me in cease and desists. I tried fighting back, but as of last week, it looks like my entire site has been retroactively erased from existence. Presumably, these are the same guys who’ve been scrubbing…

There exists a website known as Parasites.org, and it’s claimed that when you first enter the website, it automatically asks for your name, bank account information, and other personal details like your address. Not providing this information doesn’t do anything, but if you do input your details, the following text appears: "Thank you, customer! Enjoy your parasites! ;)"

I'll never forget the summer of 1998, or the encounters I shared with my classmates. When I was ten years old, just two weeks into the beginning of the school year, the entire fifth grade was taken on a special week-long camping trip to 'Camp High Hope' in Indiana. Being ten years old, the idea of spending a week away from home, without any parents or siblings, just friends and the other kids from school, was one of the coolest experiences you could ever hope for as a child.

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 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.

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

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.

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…

I tended to hate Halloween. Don’t get me wrong; the candy was always something I would look forward to. Hershey bars were especially my favorite. No, what I disliked about Halloween was dressing up. I’m certain you would find it odd as to why that is. My family had been through some hard times and as such, we often recycled cloths to create Halloween costumes. I was always made fun of because of my raggedy costumes. One time I went as a ghost and the costume was a mix match of fabrics that were…

I have to remind myself. I don’t want to forget. I can’t forget again. For a while now I don’t even remember my own name from time to time, and I forget who my mom was. And my brother. I have to write down everything that happened before I go back there. Back to The Chimes. My name is Sam. My older brother was named Marcus.

My best friends Darius and Jordan learned about my fear of swimming during an impromptu tubing trip on the Farmington River. The summer after I turned twenty-six, Darius and Jordan took me to Foxborough Park, a park that ran alongside the river. Foxborough Park had recently undergone improvements as a part of the town’s beautification project. My parents once described the park as being “overrun by druggies and dropouts.” After the project completed, the town’s lilly-white, upper-middle class…

My Dad has always been a firm believer in the supernatural, or at the very least took great interest in it. He worked for the London Underground as an electrician and always had his fair share of ghost stories told to him by his fellow workers. He always told me it was “best to be open-minded about things we don’t fully understand.”

Jarren lifted the sheets up over Milli, tucking them in around her as she stared up at him. “Daddy?” she said. “Yes, angel?” “Can I have a song?” He sighed. “I don’t know any of the songs Mommy would sing to you.” “She would sing songs about going to sleep.” He took in a deep breath. “Well, I’ll give it a try. Um… let’s see. Go to sleep, goodnight, it’s nighttime little girl… go to sleep, you’re in bed…” “That’s not a very good song, Daddy.”

“Boy, you’re entirely too old to be pussyfooting with a grown hog like that. If you intend to do a job, then do it, don’t hesitate,” said the blood-soaked farmer. I looked down at the horror stricken pig with pity in my eyes. It seemed to know what would happen next. The poor creature was beginning to squeal. It was too similar to the cries of a human. I felt sickened, like I was witnessing a murder.

I work the night shift at a local mom-and-pop convenience store at the front of my neighborhood. We sell snacks, drinks, milk, bread, all the normal stuff that people need but aren’t willing to make a traditional run to the grocery store for. There was talk about adding a gas pump out front, but it hasn’t happened yet.

The first time I visited the Otherworld was when I was eleven. One moment I’d been having some peaceful dream I hardly remember, and the next, I was shooting up in bed with a gasp. I pulled my blanket tighter around myself as I looked around uneasily.