#madness

The moonlight streamed through the window panes, casting on angelic glow on her ivory face. She lay draped on the couch, hair spread about the pillow like a golden halo, an untouched glass of champagne sitting on the coffee table beside her. How beautiful she was, even now. As I watched her, I couldn’t help but smile inwardly. Here I was, a self-professed Valentine’s Day cynic who scoffed at all things romantic, treating a girl to a candle-lit dinner and champagne on the one night of the year I…

Here they come, around the corner, sliding into the driveway in their family sedan. They’re back from the market, the father’s pockets no doubt lined with fresh 50s. The tires roll easily along the gravel, and I pray that lying somewhere in that collection of pebbles and stones is a glass shard, or a rock sharp enough to pierce the tires.

“Strange how paranoia can link up with reality now and then.” ― Philip K. Dick, A Scanner Darkly My name is Connor. Up until today, my life was completely normal... well, as normal as you can get. I’m your average 25 year old male who graduated from the University of Washington a little over 2 years ago. I was born January 23, 1989 in a small town in Maine called Belmont. Fewer than 1000 residents, but I loved the place.

It was a slow, mild Fall evening. We were sitting in our local Irish pub, The Lion and the Lamb, watching a beautiful young blonde woman on stage. It was karaoke night, and she was singing “In Dreams” by Roy Orbison. The song was mesmerising; her voice was like an angel’s. I suppose that’s how we ended up talking about dreams. “Has anyone been having any strange dreams lately?” asked Selena.I looked at her and the others at my company, pondering the question.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been suspended in the room. I couldn't remember the last time light had elucidated these claustrophobic confines, nor exactly when I realized I was trapped within them. Vague outlines surrounded the silhouettes of objects filling the room, slightly blurred and perfectly still. These things themselves were not strange, but when I saw them, my mind whispered dissimulation: "This is a dream." And as I listened to it, figures of shadow formed within the depths light…

I’m always playing the part. Ever since this stupid movie started, the part never really left me. You’re probably confused. Should I bother explaining? Honestly, all you’ll do is ridicule me. Oh well. All the people I would confide in aren’t exactly… around. If you have a few minutes, I can tell you a story that will drive you crazy. Trust me, I mean that.

I'm a surgeon. Now, I've seen my fair share of strange medical events, But one event that I saw still haunts me to this day.

Chad’s stomach growled. He knew the only way he could satisfy this new hunger was with nachos, as he had done so many times in the past. Each nacho was a piece of the hunger puzzle in his stomach, and the pieces always lined up perfectly.

My name was Private Charles Lee Locod, I enlisted back in ’67 for the U.S. Army. I traded my fiancée for a rifle, my home for a tent, and three years of my life for someone else. Some men kill to live; I was one of those men. Though I don’t think I ever actually killed anyone, at least I did my best not to. Then there are men who live to kill, men like Sergeant Stevens. He was a back woods Carolina man who took pleasure in each gruesome act. The last I saw him was a few days ago when he waved…

I rest for a while. Now is time to get up and try once again to find an exit. Walking and looking for markings on the walls, a stain, a scratch, a spider web I haven't seen yet. Nothing. Perfect walls, untouched. I examine one of them looking for imperfections. Nothing. The maze looks like a work from Nature itself, a little trap created by the forces that rule the universe so they can have fun watching vermin like me struggling for a little bit of sunlight.

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…

There are times within a person’s life when they will curse the limitations of their own human body. While it can perform many actions there are moments when it is simply not enough. Have you ever tried to swim underwater for long periods of time? Perhaps you have been beaten senselessly by a hulking bully. It could be that you are late to your destination.

Every now and then, I get a snatch of a song running through my head. When that happens, it can drive me nuts, and it's a devil of a time trying to get another song in there to replace it. It's gotta be another song, though. I can't ever just have a head full of peace and quiet. Sometimes the song I try to listen to and replace the persistent one will instead mix with it, creating this weird cacophonic mash-up in my skull that makes me want to stab somebody.

In Minneapolis Minnesota a long abandoned hospital was under reconstruction. The hospital, St Anne's Mercy, was original founded in 1802. The hospital housed the quarantined patients suffering from illnesses such Yellow Fever, smallpox and leprosy. It also housed the mentally ill and abandoned of all ages for many years.

The audience laughed as the young man in the top hat smiled. The trick he had just completed had apparently been more than enough to please the crowd. As the man slowly walked away from the almost blindly bright spotlight, he kept his face focused on the crowd, continuing to smile.

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…

A wail. I hear it drone through the trees. I want to leave. I want to explore. I want to leave, and see something more. Someone I want to meet. I want to see people. I follow the wail. It is loud, not piercing, not uncomfortable. There are people here. I want to see them. I want to see and meet them. they are wailing. I see them there through the trees. They sit there, they wail. It does not feel uncomfortable. There are two people sitting there. They sit outside of the trees.

Max Theodore pushed past the boisterous throng of laughing kids and settled down at his usual table. Max’s best friend, Isabella, bounded over to him with her typical energy. “Max!” she greeted, hugging him as if she hadn’t seen him in days. “You won’t believe what I was able to find last night!” Max grinned and shook his head. Isabella had a reputation as a paranormal fanatic. On Saturday night she could be found in her home watching black and white horror films while eating buttered popcorn.…

12/02/11

The demon looked much as I expected it to. Standing at roughly twice my height, its skin was cracked and burnt as if it had been pressurized under heat high enough to charbroil humans and strong enough to snap metals like twigs. Though hunched over, its vestigial wings flapped futilely as it threw itself against the barrier of table salt I'd scattered around it - all eight of its compound eyes blinking in confusion, and finally - understanding.