#creatures

I’m sure many of you have heard of the Uncanny Valley effect, for those who haven’t it is essentially the sense of fear or unease a person can feel when they see a creature or object that resembles a human; but there is something about the entity that makes it not look right, think mannequins or robots. However, this fear has caused a lot of debate, mainly about why we have it to begin with; most of our main fears and phobias can be traced back to our ancient ancestors; and what they…

“It’s going to happen, Jack. Nothing we can do about it. The wheels are already in motion. Higher-ups tell me I need to release the staff by the end of the week.” “Then ‘AM 640 - Talk of the Town’ becomes what, exactly?” Ron sighed. “Another DJ-less, auto-programmed, adult easy listening station.” “Aww, Christ on a bike,” I said. “They’re stealing the soul of this industry. Our Arbitron numbers grew last ratings cycle.”

I’m pretty sure most people have heard of the Appalachian Mountains. That place is a hotspot for unsettling encounters, yes, I know, how cliché, but yes, I found this location there while visiting the place for some sightings I wanted to capture and upload to YouTube.

My dog has always been kind of overexcited, running up and down the corridor, jumping all over our guests, relentlessly barking, and so on. I'm aware it's probably my fault for not being strict enough and encouraging this type of behaviour when he was a puppy. However, over the past few days, he has been very quiet. A bit too quiet. He's always hiding under the bed or behind the curtains, and sometimes, he even tries to hide under our linens, which is unusual since he's never been allowed on…

Stephen Hillenburg is one of the better-known names in animation. Born on August 21, 1961, he was not only an animator but also a marine biology educator. He passed away on November 26, 2018. He is best known for shows like Rocko’s Modern Life and SpongeBob SquarePants, the latter of which continues to air to this day.

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! ;)"

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.

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.

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.

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…

Most people have never heard someone die. The moaning. The crying. The pleading. The last tortured breath before they go quiet. Most people will never hear those things. I do. Daily. No, I’m not a serial killer on a hellbent mission to cleanse the Earth. I’m a 911 operator. When I took the job ten years ago, I assumed I’d more or less be like an air traffic controller, but for emergency response teams. For a large portion of my job, that’s true. That’s the easy part. Death is harder.

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…

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.

Two people, a man and a woman, were deep in the woods, running aimlessly. Sounds of the blaring sirens were still in the distance, but the despicable duo had long since abandoned their weapons in the hopes of diverting the authorities from conducting further research into their whereabouts. They were deep in the woods when the sirens faded. The two breathed a sigh of relief.

This story is inspired by SCP-096 created by Dr Dan, and takes place in the SCP Foundation universe. The cover image was created by dekades8 on DeviantArt and edited by me. Yeah, hey, I don’t know where this will go. If this goes through anywhere, then I guess I got lucky. one. Last. TIME. If you’re reading this, don’t go looking for what I saw. I mean that. Don't look at its face, and this means no photo will be attached.

I woke up like I would every other time I tried to sleep; Drenched in sweat, shivering, afraid to go back to sleep. I have this recurring dream about something to do with static. I can't quite remember exactly what happens though. I glance over at my clock, it read 3:00 am. I sigh attempting to release all my bad thoughts out of my mind. I hop out of bed as quickly as possible —too afraid to go back to that dream— and scurry over to the bathroom mirror. ‘My bags have gotten worse,’ I thought…

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.

It would have been so much easier just to keep telling myself the worst parts of my past were all in my head, and assure myself it wasn’t healthy for me to think too much about it.

In the fall of 1979 Martin “Marty” Joseph was a 23-year-old rookie highway patrolman with the Pennsylvania State Police.  Marty was fresh out of the academy, and before that had been a star football player at Temple University in Philadelphia, before returning to his native Western Pennsylvania to attend the State Police Academy. He was tall, stout and handsome by traditional standards. Dark brown hair that he kept high and tight in accordance with the state police regulations. He had dark…

Leonard pushed his face firmly into the crease of his elbow as another scathing blast of frigid air blew through the valley. The snow piled up at his feet while he stumbled up a small incline, struggling to keep his balance, the biting cold permeating his winter jacket. Shivering, he turned, baring his back to the icy downpour and staring across the barren fields of white before him. At the very crest of the blizzard, a single tent was cartwheeling, leaving a trail of tiny dents as each of its…