#ghosts

The steady droning of fluorescent lights buzzed through the perpetually cold morgue. A sound that, after three years, had woven its way into my sense of peace as comforting and familiar as my own breathing. Carl muttered under his breath as he wrestled with the finicky coffee machine before it spurted out the coveted drink. It wasn’t just the vending machine that put him in such a grumpy mood. We had gotten another new intern. Some emo kid with a gauge piercing and nose ring, obsessed with…

I’m sure you all have heard the tales about the trucker who was driving late at night and stopped to pick up a woman on the side of the road and the woman turns out to be a ghost. Right? Well, I’ve got a story for you that trumps that one.

My stomach rumbled as we approached the edge of the woods. It was nearly midday, but I hadn't eaten in hours. Supply troubles and nerves had left me with little food and next to no appetite. A combination that was less than ideal heading into my first taste of combat.

In hindsight, this story is pretty embarrassing but hear me out. It’s not easy being the new kid who just moved to town in the middle of the school year. It didn’t help that this place was practically the middle of nowhere, the only restaurants being a mom and pop diner and a Taco Bell that was attached to a gas station. I nearly cried when I looked up how far away the nearest music venue was; an hour and a half, and they only showcased country bands.  I’ve never had a knack for fitting in, and…

It was a dark, foggy night, as it really should be whenever something eerie happens. I was walking from my dad’s house over to my mom’s. I’d had a fight with my dad about something, the topic of which I’ve since forgotten, and realized at 17 years old that I was old enough and capable enough to walk alone back to my mom’s house, instead of stewing in my room at dad’s. Besides, both of my sisters were asleep already, so I wasn’t worried about them not getting their homework done or needing help…

Paramedics are incredibly superstitious. It’s surprising how much people will argue with me about this simple fact. “Oh, definitely not. They’re too reasonable, too smart, too calm in a crisis to engage with something as irrational as superstitions.”

I'm a rabbi, so you can imagine the kinds of conversation I have when I counsel my congregants. Family troubles. Marital strife. And sometimes, theology. The other day, one of my congregants―a young, sensitive woman with hair almost black and eyes just as dark―came in to see me. She was in the midst of a crisis of faith. "If only God would speak to me, or give me some kind of sign…," she was saying.

I Newcomer It was midday on a Sunday, and Johnathan Urbez was driving his dream car, an RX7. The engine was modified to be even faster; the tuned machine used a racing transmission, special brakes, suspension, and tires. The body was covered in all kinds of paintings and designs. After five years of hard work, dedication, and a lot of money, this beast was ready and John had to take it out for a ride.

After discovering the lost episode of Gilligan’s Island, I started thinking about finding an episode of another favorite show of mine, The Three Stooges. According to a source I found, the episode was called Ghost Encounters. It was supposed to be shown in movie theaters and on television (as episodes were being aired on TV as well and released on DVD, of course). This episode was cut for being disturbing, but before you roll your eyes and think I’m going to talk about characters dying in…

Eric, my precious little boy. Just look at those precious eyes! They're big and bulging out of their sockets, staring in opposite directions. He has such a nice face—sure, he's missing a nose, but there's nothing wrong with that. Now, look at that wide smile and those white, clean teeth. I helped brush them yesterday; don’t they look nice? They look nice to me!

Under gravel and twisting roots there lies an intricate system of life, hundreds of sizes smaller than our species. Like pale, empty veins they stretch out to dig downwards into damp soil. It is dark. Darker than sunless skies. The realm underground is the realm of corpses. They settle between debris like shells pushed under sand by careless ocean waves. Deeper, and deeper. While you walk overhead on solid ground, thinking of the casual facets of life, corpses are clawing overhead themselves,…

I hate snow. Not in the way most people hate the inconvenience of shoveling their driveways or the sting of icy wind slicing through their scarves. Not in the way someone groans when their morning commute is slowed to a crawl or when their favorite shoes soak through, leaving their socks clammy and cold. No, my hatred runs deeper than that—bone-deep, marrow-deep, settling into the cracks of my ribs like frost that never thaws.

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.

There are stories that cling to the edges of reality, rumors whispered in bars by old sailors with trembling hands and distant eyes. Stories of ships that drift into the harbor with no crew, no signs of struggle... just eerie silence. But until last week, I thought they were just that... stories.

*Disclaimer: This story was based on true events that have happened to me* Everyone has that eerie sensation some time in their life. Some are able to explain the phenomenon, while others can’t. It’s that feeling of someone, or something, watching you. It’s that unknown experience when either dread or curiosity can get the best of you.

A single unfinished opera entitled 'The Matinee of the Damned' is an incomplete and cursed piece of music that has plagued the eyes, ears and hearts of those who bear witness to this piece and has taken the lives of those who dare to try and finish the ballad.

Before my best friend's wedding, we rented a cabin in South Carolina from a company called Moose Estates. We stayed there a full week with four of our closest buddies who were the rest of the groomsmen. The cabin was situated near Redwood Lake, and a river named Cripple Creek fed into the lake about a half mile from the property. It really was a peaceful place. I remember lying in bed and being able to hear the river babbling along if I listened close enough. There was an eerie calmness that…

Some neighborhood kids and I are going to commit a felony tonight, but it's no big deal. We've been committing a felony for almost two weeks now. We've developed a new pastime, and this all began when Cody Winters told us about the Railroad Game. This is the type of shit that happens when you live in a quaint suburb, filled with kids and teenagers that have nothing better to do.

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.

Everyone has that feeling some time in their life. Some able to explain the phenomenon, and others simply cannot. That unknown feeling of someone, or something, watching you. That experience where either dread or curiosity can get the best of you.