#locations

Nightfall.

The dust was whirling behind their car as they sped down the gravel road. Dust and dirt swirled behind them like a dark cloud gaining on the small car. David glanced at the dash board to see how fast he was driving and it showed sixty-eight. He wasn’t sure why he was driving so fast; they weren’t exactly in a hurry. He and his friend, Ryan, were heading across the state after fall break to their school. They were both freshmen at Crestwood University.

Rose Hill Place April 11th Rose Hill Place was a rather indefinable place, all things considered. Nothing about it made it stand out to passersby, nothing in its halls to make it appeal to those who came and visited. It was exactly what it appeared to be: a single-floor complex with over a hundred rooms and three dining halls, enough to fit all who lived there and the occasional guest.

Far beneath the Sinnoh region, there lies a vast area of tunnels. If you're a resident of the region, chances are you've already heard the stories. Most people know it as a place of entertainment and adventure; a place where you can experience your very own treasure-hunt. Because of this, the darkest secrets of the tunnels are overlooked, and sometimes even forgotten by everyone not personally affected by it.

NOTE: This story involves the racism encountered by African Americans in the rural United States, particularly during the 19th and early 20th centuries. As such, this story may be offensive to some. Please proceed with discretion.

The unrelenting dirt road twisted and turned in front of James, small rocks popped under the tires and a cloud of dust billowed behind him as he drove on through the forest. He was visiting his brother over a long weekend of three days. A trickle of sweat fell over his brow and into the rims of his glasses. He was a city person, he had never been in the country for a day in his life, and, although the hot Italian sun and rough terrain was bothersome, he found a sort of peace in it that was…

“So what’s your story, morning glory?” he asked her, staring into her big brown eyes. They were like two magnets pulling him in. Of all the juke joints in town, he had to walk into this one. Where he would see this exotic gold skinned beauty in a dress that could cure cancer. It was a red dress. One that had seen its share of blood and lives fucked up beyond redemption. If dresses could talk, this one could write an encyclopedia of misery.

We all make mistakes. It just takes one, little mistake, and everything will be over. I won’t let that happen this time.

There are some places in Texas I advise you to go to: San Antonio. Austin. Poteet. Dallas. La Vernia. Just to name a few if you want to experience real Texas in a breathtaking way. And then there's Kosciusko, Texas, a place that I would never bring up in normal conversation. It's a place you don't go to. It's a place you drive far away from when nighttime falls. It's a place where your car stops and stalls and you feel sweat beading down your neck as you try to jiggle the keys in fear.

It was another cold night that night. I remember it vividly. Mostly due to the fact that out here you have to be alert at all times. My name is Sergeant Johnson, and at the time I was deployed at a remote outpost in the Warduj Valley. This valley is known for its high level of insurgent activity in the Warduj District, Badakhshan Province, Afghanistan. I was deployed for seven months, and I have to say the toughest thing, other than the usual rocket attacks, was missing my new wife back home.…

On every college campus there is a hallway. Nondescript, tucked away, often on the top floor of a building or off of another hall where only a few classrooms have been placed. It melts into the background of every student’s life; drowned out by the music department or wedged between two lecture halls. Occasionally, a lost freshman will wander down it, running late for their first class. Should such a lost soul wander through that hall, all they will find is a single, empty classroom. This room…

Min-Jun awoke, gasping for air as he flailed in the shallow water. His vision blurred by the salt water, he flung himself ashore, and lay face first in the sand. He swabbed away the water from his eyes and attempted to open them. His eyelids fluttered until he finally was able to keep them pried. Min-Jun looked around at his surroundings.

I guess I won’t escape the water on this spring evening. As rain pounds on me with the rhythm of an icy waterfall, the pain of the cold is warming me more than my nightgown ever could. The warmth of my breath fights through the bitter darkness of the evening only to be beaten back by the unrelenting frigidity of the wind at my face. Perhaps the warmness of the gulf would radiate just enough to find some comfort in this depressing storm.

I work the night shift at a local mom-and-pop convenience store at the front of my neighborhood. We sell snacks, drinks, milk, bread, all the normal stuff that people need but aren’t willing to make a traditional run to the grocery store for. There was talk about adding a gas pump out front, but it hasn’t happened yet.

I never believed in ghosts because just the very idea of it sounded so stupid and unrealistic. My two friends billy and warren believed in ghosts and they would always force me to go with them into dark, old and large buildings. I also find souls and spirits to be an absurd idea and who ever even invented them clearly was trying to control people. I also find Halloween extremely absurd and stupid but there is the odd occasion I get scared by a horror film or even an urban legend.

My name is Michael, I'm 30 years old. I live alone in a rented apartment. The silence is maddening. The rare hammering of new neighbors is almost pleasing — you know that feeling. I turn on the TV just so I'm not bored and at least I can hear someone's voice. One day I decided to visit my aunt. The road was long, but what can you do? Anything to not be lonely. I packed a small bag — just some clothes and a phone charger. I didn't even check if she was home. I just needed to drive.

I have to pretend to be dead for my wife and I am in quite a strange situation right now within my relationship. I used to do drama back in my school days so I know a few things here and there about acting. Me and my wife before the birth of our first baby, we were completely normal and loved doing things together and talking to each other. We went on dates and travelled to other countries like how most loved up couples do. Then things got serious and I asked her to marry me and she loved the…

I used to love Lucid dreams but I could only seem to realise I'm dreaming when it's a particularly scary dream, I can always fly away from the threat. That's how I know I'm dreaming, I can then stay and control the narrative. Now I just force myself to wake up. It started with rules. I'm not sure how I know about them, how they were made up or who by.

Everyone knows Chuck E. Cheese, but have you heard of Rat Aleister's? Not many people have, and for good reason. It gained a bit of a cult following online a couple months ago, where people had more fun speculating and sharing rumors than actually taking any sort of action against it.

It was just about half an hour ago since it happened. I had come to the decision that my house was in need of a rather intense cleanup. Starting with the living room, I took out all the junk and other stuff and then started cleaning. I glanced at the wallpaper, pained by how ugly it truly is without any of my stuff cluttering around it. This wallpaper had still belonged to the previous owners, it hasn't been too long ago since I had moved in and I hadn't really taken the time to change it.