#horror

There's a quote I once read, buried in some forgotten philosophy book: "To peel away the layers of the world is to expose what hides beneath, and what hides beneath is not meant to be seen." At the time, it seemed like one of those lines people throw around when they want to sound profound, but they don't really know what it means. The kind of thing you hear at a party from someone who's had one too many drinks and thinks they're the next Nietzsche. I'd rolled my eyes at it then, thought it was…

You hear all the stories about the big two.. heaven and hell… Either you're a sinner and are ready to go down to the fiery abyss to suffer or.. you float to the clouds ready for eternal salvation-.. what if I told you that it's all a lie?

“Wanna hear about the weirdest goddamn thing I’ve ever seen in the ocean?” Harvey, the old salt who lived at Neptune’s Net, asked me one night. “Buy me a sip of Cutty Sark, and I’ll tell you something only a handful of people have ever heard, and all of them are dead,” he said, jabbing his finger for emphasis. His gravelly voice gave the ancient mariner a gravitas you wouldn’t expect from a drunk at the end of the bar.

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.

Both the best and worst kept secret of the generation is that the technology of the United States military is much more advanced than what is available to the public. It’s the worst-kept secret because everyone knows it. No one is walking around thinking they can buy all the parts of a B-2 and have it run with the efficiency and accuracy of the U. S. Air Force. However, it’s the best-kept secret because people don’t understand just how advanced their technology really is. Hell, even I don’t…

The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended. “Damnit Jimmy, you're supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried.

The verdict was final. I wished I had just died then. The people tasked with performing this ritual drank, Drank until they couldn't anymore, For if they were sober, They wouldn't have been able to go through with it. They stripped me of my clothing. They flogged me. Scraps of metal and shards of glass, Embedded into each tail of the flogger. Each tail would wrap around me, Glass and metal digging into my flesh. Then they would pull it back, Shards dragging inside my skin,

“Don’t let her fool you.” I tilted my head as I read my mother’s strange text. There was no context in a previous conversation or build up to warrant the strange cryptic message. I hadn’t texted my mother in a few hours and even then, it was to remind her to pick up dog food on her way home from church that night. “Who are we talking about?” I replied and waited… nothing.

“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.

Post 1: 6:00 PM, Wednesday September 5th, 2026 It’s Wednesday night, I keep earring weird noises outside. It’s been days since I’ve talked to anyone outside, people say I’m crazy for not leaving my house, but the voices are out there at night. They say since it’s at night just leave during the day but no I can’t because if i do they may still get me. Post 2: 12:00 AM, Friday September 7th, 2026 There’s scratching at my walls. They’re outside, they want me to go to them.

Jacky's Prince Of Dreams 1.5+ Psychic Crime Fiction by Andre Michael Pietroschek Disclaimer: No warranties!

1934 was a different time. Not just in Savannah, Georgia but in America. We didn't have many luxuries back then. Or much optimism, for that matter. Not when we were in the midst of The Great Depression.

Of the early days of the world, after our ancestors crossed the Bering Straight and millennia before any of the tribes we know of today existed, very little is actually remembered. Sure, there are tales of the beginning of Man, and of the Earth, but those are only fables… legends told to explain what was then unexplainable. This, however, is not a fable, but a story. A story probably distorted by time, but at its core true, nonetheless.

The first thing you notice isn't the cold or the smell of damp concrete it’s the silence. When you finally blink your eyes open, the world is a blur of grey shadows and a single, flickering lightbulb hanging from a low ceiling. Your wrists ache, and when you try to reach for your phone, the heavy rattle of a steel chain snaps you into a cold reality. You aren't in your bedroom. You’re in a basement clean, organized, but windowless. There’s a plate of your favorite food sitting on a small wooden…

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. As the oldest of two older siblings, I was used to watching younger kids a fair amount of the time. So through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all. Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.

Bright colors, brat's laughter, lastly arcade pixels beaming on teens faces while playing left me with an odd expression. I was never used to this kind of scenery when I was 6. Jess, the popular girl that every teacher and classmates love to see in the hallways or in class, invited me to her birthday party. Why did she even acknowledge me in the first place? We never talked nor had any projects together so why?

Are you unsatisfied with your life? Are you unhappy with all the little things you own? Then come visit the underground store once. Here you can find a solution to every problem. We are eagerly awaiting your visit. A new store has opened in the shopping center near my house and I, having nothing better to do, decide to go check it out. In all honesty the recent ads have been freaking me out a bit, the shop's mascot just looks wrong.

“THIS SHOW IS A JOKE!” As the latest person walked off the stage in a rage, throwing the papers up in the air as he stormed for the exit. I had just disproved his claim that he was telepathic, calling him out for trying to force a page open with his mind-. Just to see him try and flap his hands at the page, hoping it would blow over.

day 1 Hello. I'm Michael W. Johnson, a private detective. I usually don’t do things like this, but I think we are in danger. I’ve been given several reports about a drug being used to make people immortal for decades. I don’t know the side effects yet. I don’t even know what the drug is called or where it’s being made.

It was a cool midsummer night when me and my friends start to head home we both split of from each other until it was just me I still had a mile to walk so I kept me head down but when I was walking I kept hearing strange cracking and jingling like bones from the woods around me you see we lived on a dirt road no houses for around a mile out I got home around dinner time mom and I had a good meal dad often wasn't there he was a trucker so he had to stay on long trips away from home but me and…