#creatures

When I was a child my family moved to a big old two-floor house, with big empty rooms and creaking floorboards. Both my parents worked so I was often alone when I came home from school. One early evening when I came home the house was still dark. I called out, “Mum?” and heard her sing song voice say “Yeeeeees?” from upstairs. I called her again as I climbed the stairs to see which room she was in, and again got the same “Yeeeeees?” reply.

"Do you feel safe in your house? Does your house have secure doors and windows? Do you trust your neighbors, if you even have any?" I ask these questions, but I already know the answers. I know so much about you. I know how you tick, I know how you tock. I know what makes you happy, I know what makes you angry, and I know what makes you afraid. I have been watching you since you were just a young one; my how’ve you grown.

I quickly walked through the cabin, making sure everything was nice and tidy, just right. I’ve gotten pretty good at getting the whole cabin clean in less than a day. After a quick alignment of the magazines on the coffee table, the place was perfect. Penny would have been proud.

The term “synthetic drug” refers to a new type of drug on the market that has been created to skirt existing laws on illicit drugs. Thousands of psychoactive compounds are regulated by the law of the Federal Controlled Substances Act. However, in creating synthetic drugs, manufacturers alter the chemical structure of an illegal drug, modifying it to create an “analog” or derivative of that drug, to, essentially, make it quote unquote legal.

My father told me a story once. I'll never forget it, for a few reasons. I think its the first story he ever told me, as a child. Its also the story of how my grandfather died. But honestly, that isn't the reason. You hear stories, on TV, or sometimes you over hear something in a public place. People talk about ghosts and aliens, and you think to yourself “that ain't real. They're making it up, or they're mistaken, or they're crazy.” or something like that. You just can't believe it.

That thing has been there for almost a week. The figure in the window. It looks featureless, only skin on a human frame, and it’s pressing itself against the glass somehow. I don’t know how it got there, and I don’t know how to get rid of it.

My cousin recently moved here from Secunderabad, India. On a recent road trip exploring America, we were shootin shit and exchanging ghost stories and laughing at similarities and differences between American ghost stories and Indian ghost stories when I asked her if she’s ever experienced anything supernatural. Her eyes widened as she averted her eyes to the window. Just when the silence was about to be too much for me, she softly responded “Yes. A few. One is troubling.”

You open your eyes, but there isn’t anything to see. It’s all blank- whether its white, or black, it doesn’t matter. But then it does- a blinding light fills your eyes, and you squint away. When you open them again, you’re in a building. No, not a building- a train. The windows show the scenery outside moving at such a speed that you can’t even tell what you’re passing by. The interior is simple but sophisticated- mostly white, with a few booths set up against the left wall.

I've been working at a police station in Massachussets for the past ten years. No, I'm not an officer but rather a First Responder. It's...not such a big job, or at least to me anyway, because my family lives in mid-sized city. Average 20,000 people. The most important calls I get include robberies and house fires. And then there are the pranks that teenagers play on Halloween and such like that. I'm recording all of this. The reason why is because I'm scared like hell. Still scared.

Footsteps aren’t an uncommon thing to hear when you’re sitting in a basement, so I think nothing of it when I hear quiet thuds coming from my upstairs hallway. I just assume it’s my brother, and continue doing whatever pointless little thing I was doing at the time. They go on for another couple minutes, and I’m starting to get pissed off. They keep getting louder and louder and I sigh, wondering what the hell my brother’s doing this late at night. I sit there, because it’s impossible to focus…

I am a dead man. I would like to think of myself as a reasonable, level-headed individual; and that is exactly why I know that there is no happy ending for me by any measure whatsoever. I have only one thing left I can do… whether it works or not, this document is to serve as my last will and testament. I will not try to diminish my responsibility in what happened, but before I die the blame will be placed squarely on the heads of those who deserve it. It was the combined hubris of two men that…

I guess I’m not really sure what to write down. These past few weeks feel…It’s just hard to put to words what’s going on. I can hear sirens in the distance. Not much time left now. The police’ll be here shortly. Only one more thing left to do, but first I want to leave some kind of a record. Some testament to what happened so when they look back on this insanity, maybe somebody will know I wasn’t crazy. At least, not completely. I’ll write down the facts as they happened, try and give you a…

Tonight's like every other night. You lay there, in the dark and silence, alone, with no company other than your own thoughts. You shift and roll throughout your bed, just you and your thoughts. You ponder, you plan, you fantasise; anything to distract you from the ringing silence that surrounds you.

Normally you sleep soundly, but the thunderstorm raging outside is stirring you from your sleep. You begin to doze, then another crash jolts you awake. The cycle lasts most of the night. So you lay there, eyes open and outward, looking at your room stretching out before you in oblong shadows. Your eyes move from nameless object, to object, until you reach your mirror, sitting adjacent to you across the room.

I’m breaking every single one of my rules for survival doing this and yet I know if I don’t I’ll die of hunger in a few weeks or worse they’ll find me when I’m sleeping and carry me off to where they dwell nestled in the tunnels beneath the city. I stare into the abyssal depths below me, nothing to make out but the now motionless escalator stairs, poking their way out of the blackness. I take one last deep breath savour the clean crisp February air and make my way down to find Nate. Nate’s the…

It was five years ago, during the hot summer months in Texas. We were visiting my aunt in a rural area of the state maybe a couple hours to the northeast of Houston. I had lived in Houston most of my life, roughly fifteen years at that time, so the change in environment from large crowded city to a less densely populated wooded area was something I wasn’t used to. As much as I didn’t want to be there, I had to. This would have been the last time my family would get see her as she had grown…

I was only 12 at the time. I was playing in the scrap yard with some of my best buddies. My father was good at all different kinds of things, but flourished on vehicles and motorized machines of any type. He was always hauling in a new broken down truck, or an old busted up washing machine, and had no problem with letting my buddies and me play in the scrap piles that lay in the back yard. We were out one day just messing around, shooting Jon's new BB gun, which he had just been given for his…

Finally, I’m home. After working a late night, I finally finished a project that my boss pushed on me. It was all worth it though, because I had a great day ahead of me. The part I was most excited for though, was seeing my son. I finally won the custody battle against my ex-wife, so now I actually get to see him. I fixed up my old spare bedroom for him, although it looked bland in all white. I figured we would have some spare time later and we could make any changes he wanted. I lumbered up…

It’s Christmas time, and my mom wanted to start a new tradition. Of course she had to make it “Elf on a Shelf”. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, but she knew that I wouldn’t go for just a hidden elf. So my mom made it a murdering elf. Why the fuck not, right? It’s already creepy enough looking already. But that’s not it. She put post-it notes on the elf and they were clues to find the “victims” of the elf. She knew I was horrible at finding things, so this was for her amusement. I was…

Before you read or listen to this, make sure you are alone. If you are in a room, close the door. If you are by a window, look outside and make sure there is no one there. The only way others should know about this story is by reading it, or listening to it themselves. Do not repeat this out loud to anyone, he will hear you. But you are able to read it to yourself or record yourself. Right now, these are the only two exceptions I know about. Once you think you’re alone, look at the screen, and…