#madness

I've always found it particularly difficult to start a story. It's easy to end one, but ever since grade school when my teachers would make me write a short story, I could never make a good start. I suppose I'll start by saying this is a story. A story about my best friend. He died about 2 years ago. He was in his living room, sitting, watching tv, and he had a heart attack. And boom. Just like that he's dead. Gone. Bye bye. See you later. It was really shocking when I found out.

They are going to kill you. You just know they are. You sit here, in the back area of the white van. It's devoid of anything, except the chair you sit in, and a white, metal floor with a screwdriver laying lazily near the wall. A fluorescent bulb hangs on the ceiling nearby, casting an erie white glow around the place. There are no windows, and everything not illuminated by the bulb is pitch black. You can't move anything.

2 Thessalonians 2:11- and for this cause God shall send them strong delusion, that they should believe a lie:

Why is this happening to me? I'm not a bad person! I've never hurt anyone; hell, I've never even cheated on a math test! So, why is it here? Why did it choose me? I'm in the hall closet on the second floor, while that "thing" wanders around my home, searching for me! It's the only place I can hide, the only place I feel safe! I don't plan on staying here long, just long enough for it to pass me by. Then, I'll make a run for the front door downstairs!

The late 1980's were a time in my life I normally don't care to remember. My mother and I had moved away from my grandparents' house. Theirs was the only home I knew. Mother had a bad habit of making poor decisions in men, and so for a while we bounced around from place to place. I even recall being at one school only for a week before we were on the lam once again.

Lytle, Texas - August

It would seem that all cities, even small towns, have their own ghost stories and urban legends. Living in Devine, Texas for 5 years, I always heard about the Salt and Pepper lady of the Devine Projects. Friends would speak of their experiences with this very strange and disturbing specter. If you grew up in the Devine Projects, your parents wouldn't allow you to be outside whatsoever after dark, which was less due to the gangs and drug problem and more out of fear of the Salt and Pepper lady.

“Bobby! Pay attention!” he heard his teacher say. He snapped out of his reverie and looked up to see her glaring at him. “Did you hear anything I’ve been saying?” she continued. Bobby shrugged his shoulders. Prior to being disrupted, he was daydreaming that he could freeze time, and before that he was imagining himself navigating the classroom if he was only 5 inches tall. The teacher continued to rant at him, just as they all did, then she placed him on detention Friday night after school.

“Leave the light on.” she said quietly, barely above a whisper.

Late one night about ten months ago, I found myself rushing my daughter to the hospital. I remember the morning. What time I woke up, the food I ate, and the sound of my girl’s voice yelling “See ya, daddy!” as she ran out the door to catch her school bus.

I remember I would wake up screaming and nearly drown myself in cold sweat. I'd try to turn on a light or get a drink of water, but I couldn't even move. It was only a matter of seconds until my eyes would turn into old sepia camera filters, and "they" would appear. You probably wonder what I mean when I say that. I mean, the figures that defined my childhood, and have stood the test of time. They appeared by my door like always, leaning slowly, stabbing me with those blank, obscured eyes. My…

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…

"Have you heard about the Fowl Faced Killer? Apparently, there's been a string of serial killings all over the country that link back to a guy that wears a leather bird mask. The murders all occur within the last three months. According to investigators, the majority of the victims are chosen at random, the others were witnesses to his crimes.

I was never a big fan of school. I didn’t like most of my classes in high school, barely had any real friends, and absolutely despised waking up at 5:00 a.m. Myself and my neighbor, Kelly, would get in my car around 5:45 and head to school. Before you ask, Kelly and I had a short fling when she had first moved in next door, but we just weren’t a match. Anyway, living in the backwoods in Geauga County, Ohio, we took the back roads. There isn’t much outside of main roads out here, but there were…

I ran, I ran as fast as my legs could take me. The acrid smell building inside the hallway made it hard to breathe. I was getting more tired and tired as each ounce of air was released from my lungs. For I knew he was getting closer, I knew that he would eventually grasp my arm with tremendous force, smashing it. I needed to get away. I needed to leave. I woke up sweating with tears coming from my eyes, probably from the fear of my dream. I stood up and before I could even put on any close, my…

My wife and I were happily married and dreamed of someday soon starting a family of our own. But shortly after the wedding my wife was in a terrible car accident and the resulting injuries left her unable to bear children. We were heartbroken and looked for an means to reverse the damage but there was nothing that could be done.

April 23, 2000

4:38:03 PM He placed the cold steel barrel to his temple, feeling it press against bone. The scarred right wrist was steady, the shoulder relaxed, as he’d been trained. Standing in front of the mirror, his dry brown eyes burned with concentration. The muscles of his right hand contracted. The trigger began to move. His cracked lips curled to one side. The same sly, crooked half smile so many girls and women found appealing.

In a small town like Woodsburrow, a mall opening up is a big thing. The whole town generally gets in on the whole ordeal and rumors of all kinds begin to spread about the building both good and bad and the new owner is usually the main target of these rumors more often than none. This time was no exception especially when the owner was a tall crooked kind of man with greying skin that hung loosely from a boney frame. The most striking feature however, were the man’s yellow eyes that seemed to…

[The following was uncovered from the hard drive of Simon Colo’s office computer. For psychological research purposes only.]