#madness

Last year, I spent six months participating in what I was told was a psychological experiment. I found an ad in my local paper looking for imaginative people looking to make good money, and since it was the only ad that week that I was remotely qualified for, I gave them a call and we arranged an interview.

A few weeks, my wife and I took a vacation to Florida. We decided to drive, due to the price of airplane tickets around holiday season. On our way south, we passed through Tennessee as well as a large portion of Georgia. Unfortunately, there was a large accident that occurred on the turnpike, so we decided to take a short detour and then get back onto the turnpike after we passed all the traffic.

We bought the house in March, which my mother always said was the worst month to make decisions. Too late for winter clarity, too early for spring hope. The month where you mistake exhaustion for certainty.

“Welcome to Riverwood.” The administrator exclaimed, shaking the hand of the new night nurse. Riverwood was the town’s only nursing home. It had been built as a hospital back in the early days of Millville. It was a grand three story building, built in an “L” shape. At the far west end of the building was a bell tower. It no longer sounded, the bell having been removed several years ago. It was on a slight hill overlooking the north end of town and was surrounded by trees so thick that it was…

By WedgeOverPotato

The attic floorboards are thin, but the silence is thinner. I’ve been up here for three hours. The vibrating stopped, which is worse. Now, the only sound is a rhythmic thump-drag, thump-drag coming from the hallway directly below the attic hatch.

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.

In 1988 an unknown broadcast overtook several UHF stations in the Midwestern United States for six consecutive nights. The broadcast would last for only a few minutes and consisted of white static with a gray silhouette of a person in the center of the screen. The shadowed figure spoke with a an androgynous but deep voice and always spoke in whispers.

On May 4th 1989, in my town of Cumbernauld, Scotland. A 6-year old boy by the name of Connor Docherty was reported missing by his mother Joan, she reported that her son was particularly tearful one morning and seemed to be inconsolable. She attributed it to the random emotional tantrums and outbursts of a six year old, dismissing any seriousness of it. However it’s estimated that sometime that night, he vanished from his home without a trace. Detectives swooned in to try and find DNA samples…

Hope didn't like being home without her parents. All of her friends did, and they had all shared wild tales of what exactly they had done when their parents were gone. They all seemed to get a sense of satisfaction at disobeying their parents and defying their rules. Hope didn't have a rebellious streak. It wasn't that she was a goody two shoes; it was just that her parents had always been reasonable with her, and in turn, she complied with their wishes.

I read a book as a child. I summed it up and added a few details. --------------------------------------------------------------------- "Mr. Weston the doctor will see you now." The nurse hung up the intercom. Even though Sam was really nervous, he started to laugh at the fact that the lady called him Mister. That was his Dad's name. It was October 31, 1973, and 9 year old Sam Weston was in the hospital, about to go into surgery. He had to have his tonsils removed.

I remember being in my young teenage years and I was always dreaming about becoming batman. Me and my two friends were avid comic book readers and we loved superheroes, it didn't matter if it was from DC comics or marvel. My friend Harold wanted to be Xavier and martin wanted to be Spiderman. We all use to dress up and pretend that we were the superheroes and I also remember at that age, we actually believed that the three of us would actually become superheroes.

My eyes shoot open as the tapping echoes throughout the room, scanning every inch of my dark bedroom for something that should not be there. Shit. No. No, no. Not now. Every shadow, every dark corner stands out in my mind as my imagination screams horrifying possibilities what could be lurking in the blackness. My entire body tenses. Closing my eyes, I try to force myself to calm down. Just ignore it, I internally whisper to myself. Just ignore it and it will go away.

Bordering my property line, a manufactured home is left to be devoured by mother nature, abandoned. I have owned my property for multiple years, and, throughout that time, an owner has never been present, nor had I seen anything suspicious — until recently.

I can’t remember the exact age it started, I can only remember that it was summertime. I can remember that it was summertime because my family had just returned from the beach. So, I guess I can’t remember the exact age it started, but I can tell you exactly what started it.

It was a brilliant club to be part of and we were a bunch of 60+ year olds enjoying ourselves, we have our own club or space in a library and the times are from 8-10 Sunday to Tuesday. Mind you, there are only ten of us in this club, but we are a brilliant lot and 5 of the members are retired. It is more of a club for the old and the retired, who have worked all of their lives and we do creative things, from reading scripts, novels to even put on a little show as we have our own stage. We also…

After facing the Black Figure, the spirit of Genia Zianok was reborn in Dandy's World. He gained special powers over the virtual realm. At that moment, Genia's system file transferred into the DW game files. This made him more present to lure his target. The developers tried to erase the file to remove Genia's influence, but most of their efforts failed. A strange incident occurred when Genia invaded the BlushCrunch Studios Discord server.

It all started with a slight itch on the tip of my right middle finger. I absentmindedly scratched at it, and continued playing Minecraft. I soon forgot about it entirely, as a Creeper blew up the house I had worked on for an hour, as Creepers often do. I cursed and began to rebuild.

Please, I don't know what to do. I've tried to tell my wife about this, but she's a science teacher and thanks to my history of practical jokes, she thinks I'm just kidding. There is something stalking me. I don't know what it wants, but almost every night since I started seeing it, it has terrorized me. It doesn't touch me, it doesn't communicate in any sort of way, it just fills me with horror. If what I seem to ramble, please forgive me... I haven't slept in several days.

August 13th, 1921 Prof. Herbert Clayton Children's Ward St. Mary's Childrens Hospital Fife, Scotland Dear Professor, My trusted friend and mentor, I write to you in the hope that you may advise me on a matter of urgency concerning a patient of mine. Edward is a boy of just nine years who arrived with his mother six days ago with a disposition so positive that we did not at first admit him. This did not last long.