#madness

Liber Kiffmet — An Occult Dream Of Sorts Gone Bad With Dope & Weed © Andre Michael Pietroschek (if you must, pronounce Pee-tro-shack), all rights reserved Disclaimer: No warranties! This story idea is fictitious, not real, and was inspired by some episodes of the Frozen Frights podcast. Meanwhile, me going nostalgia-lane on the young adult memories is part of this story's surrealism.

The darkness. It's all there is. This deep, endless black that would make a moonless night seem blindingly bright. Never would I have imagined that such a darkness as this could exist. But it does, and now it's all I know. I stopped searching for the light a long time ago. It's kind of funny. . . Because I actually thought I knew darkness before. I was wrong. The pain.

I was a nurse fresh out of my program and eager to start working. After applying to many different hospitals I was accepted by a prestigious private hospital specializing in obstetrics and prenatal care. The hospital was famous for its surrogacy programs and had global reputation of delivering the healthiest and genetically superior babies. I was of course excited and couldn't wait to see my new hospitals and meet my new coworkers.

I didn't open the door. On mine and violets life I didn't, but my head was pounding the same way as it did when I went through a door.

The body hasn’t even gone cold and the police already called for her. The desperation in the officer’s voice on the other end of the line was a far cry from the usual belittling tone she’s met with. “Solomon’s Hotel. Body fitting all your criteria. Please be quick.”

When we were kids, we'd always spin in circles. The more we spun around, the more dizzy we'd get. Sometimes it was a challenge to see who would fall over or who could stay up right. When I was young, seven or eight, I remember this would be all I'd do with my time, spinning, spinning, spinning.

What is the most frightening thing you can think of? There is actually a unanimously correct response. By going into the darkest and most horrific part of the brain could one finally understand what one certain fear causes the body to go into hyperdrive and activate the "fight or flight" response. Any living being is ultimately condemned to choose fear or curiosity at this one, simple piece of knowledge: the unknown. This is why people are afraid of the dark, of monsters, of heights. The thrill…

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.

Katies life was never easy. She would often get bullied at school and even by her own father at home with no one to stop it. Her life would become worse when her mom died of cancer and she changed schools where the kids would become violent towards her. Even her sister moved out because she couldn't stand the abuse from their father... Katie would now the main target of her father and that meant the abuse would get worse for her too. The only comfort in her misrable life was her cat names…

“Beneath the world’s frail skin it breeds, Where stars lie drowned in the deep; For centuries, with scorn, it heeds The ones who whisper to the sheep.” “Beautiful view, isn’t it?” I pulled out an earbud and turned toward the speaker. “Sorry, did you say something?” “The view,” the man beside me repeated, using his beer glass as a pointer. “Magnificent, isn’t it?” “Yes, you’re right indeed. Prost!”

From: —— @ —— .com Re: entries/information requested re: compiling psychological profile Written below are the journal entries of Christopher Young, brother of Daryl Young, found saved as individual files on his personal computer, with file names Prologue.doc, Ch1.doc, Ch2.doc, etc. Apart from being compiled into one document, they have not been altered in any way. — Prologue

Julian Vance had always been the forgotten child. While other teenagers spent their weekends with friends, he spent his days in the basement restoring antique dolls and carving porcelain into lifelike figures that seemed capable of almost breathing. Every scratch of his tools hushed the noise in his head, a place where nobody could interrupt him. His younger sister, Chloe, however, always found a way. To her, breaking Julian's creations was entertainment, and to their parents, it was simply…

Henry had always been a bit different. As a child, he was quiet, more interested in books and toys than in other children. He grew up alone, but he never seemed to mind. His mother, Grace, worried that her son wasn't making any friends, but Henry always reassured her that he was fine just the way he was.

it all started on one day when i was in my room casually reading my story book " TERRIBLE DAY OF NIGHTS " then my mom called me from downstairs ''hey honey , come down your dinner is waiting for you mainly don't be late or else your dinner will get cool down so better come fast as you can " . I went downstairs and saw my mom and dad looking at me weirdly i asked them " why are you looking at me like im a ghost ?" , but they just nodded no nervously as i came to eat near dining table they…

‘The walls have ears,’ and ‘Your home shares your fondest memories.' These are just a couple of rather meaningless things my grandmother used to tell me when I was a little girl. However, those words were the first thing that came back to me as I was fighting amnesia. Nobody had a clue why, and, quite frankly, everybody was so happy that I was regaining my memory, that nobody seemed to care about anything else. I didn’t care either, not at first anyway.

I have never been as happy as I was on my eighth birthday. My mother handed me a heavily wrapped present containing my very first gameboy and a mint Pokémon Gold edition.

The town was abuzz with the whirring of cars and the ceaseless hustling and bustling of busy bodies so obsessed with their routines, they would unknowingly let life pass them by and miss out on the simple things. Several people chatted loudly as they crossed the streets on their way to work. Suffocating, black smoke from many a car’s exhaust pipe permeated the air and polluted the sky with clouds of smog. Rats scavenged for food and left trails of wet, goopy trash along the walking paths. The…

When I was a small child, I was terrified of the dark. I still am, but back when I was around six years old I couldn’t go a full night without crying out for one of my parents to search beneath my bed or in my closet for whatever monster I thought was waiting to eat me. Even with a night light, I would still see dark shapes moving around the corners of the room, or strange faces looking in on me from my bedroom window. My parents would do their best to console me, telling me that it was just a…

4:23AM I didn't imagine it... I'm not fucking insane. My vision may have been distorted as a result of my excessive alcohol consumption, but I know what I saw. I know that it was real, I've been sat in a bath full of cold water for the past hour to try and shake the feeling of being covered in blood. Her blood. - 5 hours earlier -

I find myself staring at the brick wall in front of me again. After another heavy night of drinking I find it abnormal to regain consciousness in the same place several days in a row. I'm outside of the abandoned hospital downtown. An eerie place to find yourself on a foggy morning. It seems no one is around, though you can hear the sounds of the city already busy. I light up a cigarette and proceed to check my phone. It's 7 a.m.