#locations

There resides a local legend in Salem, Alabama. One tucked far away in the corner of rural America, far off the beaten path, and far from even the middle of nowhere. A legend that rears its head only once a year: Pope's Haunted Farm.

It's been a week since my wife died, and it was my fault—all of it. I still remember that day, detail for detail: the sound of metal and nature meeting, the smell of gasoline and pine needles meshing together, and the revolting taste of iron that danced on my tongue. I survived for one reason, a sickening reason: at the time of the crash, I was inebriated. As for my wife... she died on impact. I tried everything, pleading and even praying to God that she wasn't dead; I guess God ignored my…

Dusk is just falling over the town of Evil Shade. The alleys are emptying, and the streets are becoming completely deserted. For some time now, the residents have been alarmed by strange, inexplicable events that usually occur late in the evening. Witnesses of these unsettling incidents report encounters with someone or something, after which they feel as though all their energy has been sucked out of them. They complain of muscle aches, headaches, and remembering very little of the…

College was supposed to be more fun. Especially considering how lame high school was for a quiet geek like me. These were supposed to be the best years of my life but so far, they'd been far from it. It was more of the same alienation I’d felt in high school. I don’t know, I guess I could only hope grad school would be better. Maybe if I went to a bigger university or moved to an actual college town with lots of culture, things would be different.

Everyone in town loves Burger Sams. Everyday they would arrive, packing the order counter, tripping over each other to get their chance to just lick the burger grease. The dining area was always a chaos of noisy chewing and smacking lips. Sometimes they would have to close the drive thru to stop the line from blocking the road. Everyone in town loves Burger Sams. Except Jen. Because she worked there.

My girlfriend Amelie and I have packed for our vacation to Paris, she was excited to hear that when I surprised her on our 1 year anniversary. Our flight to Paris got her more ecstatic and her love for me was blossoming ever more slightly; I know we’ve been together only for a year but I’m going to propose to her in Paris, in a fancy restaurant and I can’t wait for her response and reaction. The flight went for 9 hours and I didn’t sleep at all, though Amelie slept soundly while I cuddled her.

Mystery of the Courtyard is a horror and emotional fanfiction by Joseph Arrington (JosephTheSnail), inspired by the Super Mario 64 urban legend “L is Real 2401.” During Bowser’s attack on Peach’s Castle, Luigi is trapped within the courtyard fountain and left behind as Mario continues his journey to save the princess. Presumed missing for decades, Luigi survives in silence until his body finally gives out, binding his spirit to the fountain itself.

I was driving down the highway to nowhere; I call it that because I haven’t seen a single thing for the past 3 hours. I was getting quite tired; I was bound to come across a rest stop eventually. Instead I stumbled upon a large metal gate with lanterns lit in the distance; I parked my car outside the gate and got out of the car. It said something above the gate but I couldn’t make out the words because they have faded away. Beyond this gate was a mildly lit building, it looked like a hospital…

I lived in an old cabin in the middle of the forest, a place far from people and noise, which was exactly what I longed for. I didn't like being among people or hearing loud voices, so I only went to town to buy food and a few supplies, then I'd return straight to my quiet cabin. Solitude comforted me, and I found everything I needed in the embrace of nature.

I didn’t really like either of the sons-of-bitches. The only problem was I was married to Ed. At thirty years old, I’d gone from Sharon Wilson to Sharon Wam. I know. Changing to such a silly last name was only an awful beginning to an awful marriage. Unlike me, Ed didn’t like going out much. He much preferred to drink at our little house on East University Street. The married months weren’t kind to us. Ed’s curly golden hair was always a mess, his good-looking face hindered by constant anger.

I'm a Disney fanatic; if you were to ask me something, I'd know it. But sometimes you don't know EVERYTHING Disney does..

Hands raised above his head, none could bear witness to his holy tunic. Dust filled light peered from the stained glass windows, blocking the view of the not yet holy. I could make out his holiness’s silhouette and his robe’s red shine from the ethereal glow. The floor became wet with the tears of those who stood at the pews, hands raised as did their holiness. Their eyes were a squint, but their teeth would break under the pressure of their smiles. Some reached for it, some hid from it, some…

The attic hatch didn’t just open; it fell away with a deafening crack, dangling by a single, twisted hinge. I scrambled backward, my heels drumming against the dusty floorboards until my spine hit the cold glass of the circular window. The creature didn't climb in. Instead, it reached up with those impossible, elongated fingers and gripped the edge of the opening. It pulled itself up just enough for me to see the top of its head—the same smooth, featureless grey skin, pulsing like a heartbeat.

My father always had this one problem of talking to himself but at least it wasn't in public, as he always made sure he would talk to himself in his special room in our house. Me and my mother have gotten use to it over the years and it became normal in our house hold and we both never really questioned why my father enjoyed to talk to himself. My father didn't have many friends and he enjoyed his own company as he was a bit of a recluse. He did now and then due to the environmental mental…

Psychology bones - They sound weird, right, but I can feel my own psychology bones and other psychology bones in other people’s minds. Psychology bones aren’t bones for the body, but the mind, they are extremely flexible and cannot be seen by the naked eyes, they are constantly breaking and forming back together and breaking again. They make up the mind and they determine what sort of mind you have and why you think the way you do.

Life had always been hectic: the constant push forward through time, the ever repeating change of scenery every time his family had to move. But there was always one place where life — for just a few short moments — managed to feel more like a calm ocean wave lapping onto shore than the tsunami it usually had been. The little oceanside town his parents always chose for their vacation, with its salty, warm breeze, the calming sound of the seagulls circling above, and the small, colorful fishing…

Sorrow Hill is a place shrouded in mystery. Tourists from all over England and the far corners of the world flock to the castle hill, drawn by the legend of a ghost that appears at the stroke of midnight. They hear screams, wailing, and the desperate sobbing of a woman. Some claim to have seen a figure dressed in a long, black mourning gown, gliding through the castle corridors. Fans of fortresses, spirits, and dark tales stand in long queues at the ticket office, eager for a glimpse of the…