#mindfuck

“Can I tell you a story Boss?”

The warnings first came through on social media. It was a fairly ordinary Sunday morning as I sat behind the intriguing screen of my computer. For some many hours I had been checking my feed on Facebook, when an article caught my eye. Now, I'm not some sucker who gets drawn to obviously fake messages spawned by trolls online, but hey, it was Sunday and I was bored. One of my friends had shared an article entitled 'The end', and if I had half my wits about me then I wouldn't have even…

A smile covers my face as I look up to see Emily looking down at me as I awake from my nap. I never really took work seriously, something she always got after me for, but waking up to see her beautiful golden silky hair, her bright blue eyes resembling the waters of the Maldives, and well her figure wasn’t anything to scoff at either. This was enough to make me not care about napping on the job. “What is it this time honey?” I ask with a smirk

One day you will wake up and find yourself walking on a dirt road at what appears to be midnight. The road is extremely long, and will look like it could take hours of travel to get to civilization. The road consists of only dirt, dust and pebbles. At first, you will wonder how you ventured to such a place. You will also wonder how and why it is so dark, yet somehow illuminated with light at the same time. You will quickly come to the conclusion that you're dreaming.

I have a... peculiar hobby. I mean, I guess you could call it a hobby, though it’s probably more of a habit of mine. Before I tell you what it is, let me tell you a bit about myself.

I was awakened by the sound of screeching car tyres and muffled dance music playing in the distance, I climbed out of my warm, comfy bed and headed to my window, the glass had frosted over, as I wiped the frost away I was greeted by the blizzard just outside my window and the glare of the headlights as a car came speeding by my house and into the night, as the unmistakable sound of DFG's latest CD, faded away. As I looked out through the thick snow, I could see what looked like a person laying…

Do not give into astonishment as you'd often hear the self-transforming machine elves proclaim as you enter their world through hallucinogenic drugs. That was a lesson I'd not too long forget.

When he emerges into consciousness, he is only aware of the darkness sheltered by his eyelids. He recognizes it as a darkness permeated only by the abstract designs from his mind, a distinct black unlike the bright blindness when the eyelids shield an outside light. He experiences nothing else.

The video rental place down the street was having a sale, so I decided to grab something to watch later. As I was going through the bins, I found a VHS tape that didn’t have any case. The only sign that anything was actually on the video was a white sticker with the word “Hammer” scrawled across it in black ink. I had no way of telling what the movie was about, but since it was only 100 yen, I decided to buy it anyway.

In highschool, I had this friend who had really weird dreams. We would drive to school in the morning and she would tell me about them. They all had the same premise, and they all started a little ways into our junior year.

You just got off a long flight. After spending four hours in a cramped plane with 165 other people, baggage is delayed. After an hour's wait the carousel starts up and your bag is one of the first to come around. You grab it and get out of the airport as fast as you can.

Somebody once said “We are either alone in this universe, or we are not. Both thoughts are equally terrifying”. It is an interesting thought, and a mystery that may go on forever. The mistake this generation of people make is assuming that they are untouchable, that they know everything there is to know already, and that anything else is merely a bonus. Let me tell you, there is one almighty assumption that people make, a mistake that has been made for thousands of years. A secret which will…

I grew up in an area where the properties are so large and the families are so wealthy, that they build mansions and walls inclosing themselves in their own private paradises - never interacting with their neighbors unless by some strange coincidence. I was home-schooled until the age of 7, which is where this story ends.

It had been a relatively calm evening in the station until that moment. The day shift had drawn to a close, and the night shift had not yet begun, so I was alone on duty. If it were not for the portly, old figure of Nick the desk sergeant, I would have been the only soul in the station. Despite his plentiful figure and round, jolly features, he rarely offered good company and I found myself wishing that Scratch or Black Donald were about. Likely, roguish lads though they were, at least I could…

I awoke to the sound of dripping water, it was coming from somewhere in the kitchen, the open door just a few feet away. The smell hit me, just as pungent as it was when I went to sleep. My eyes started to water at the pure concentration of the odor, and the nausea set in. How long had it been since I arrived here? A week? A month? It sure felt like forever, but time was useless for me, since I knew however long it had been wouldn’t affect how long it would be until I could leave.

When you hear of crime writers, you think of people like Michael Connelly, or Rick Castle. Those guys are schmucks compared to me. The same plotlines rehashed over and over and repackaged into new covers with slightly more entertaining titles each time. You see, with me, everything I put in the pages of my books are legitimate. Now, I don’t just look up old crimes on the Internet and try to make them more appealing to the modern reader. No, that’s too simple. I make the crimes.

Throughout my time observing the everyday activities of humans, I've noticed several quirks about them. Many of these can be used to my advantage. One such quirk is that people seldom look up. Whether sitting alone in a dark room, running panicked through a forest, or dining in a crowded restaurant, they rarely glance skyward. I'm uncertain of the reason for this lack of upward glances, but it works in my favor.

James Nichols was a detective in mid-New Jersey. He lived with his wife and two kids, and was a happy man, aside from his insomnia and occasional sleepwalking. Just part of the job, he guessed. He had heard stories things like PTSD from certain cases, generally the more traumatic ones, obviously. With all these tales of people that had had their psyches ruined for life, he was thankful and guessed he got off easy. One night as he was going to sleep, he went and took the new prescription sleep…

When I was fourteen years old I received my first cell phone. It was one of the earlier models of phone, small, basic and a burner. When I was in high school the all the cell phones were only able make or receive calls and texts. There weren't cameras or apps or even call I.D. built into the phones. All of the older technology now seems so simple and innocent in comparison to today's models.

I made a mistake. Maybe I should say it in a way that conveys how critical the mistake was— I fucked up really bad. Funny thing is that doesn't truly describe the severity of it either. I guess I'll start by letting you know that I am an alcoholic. I go to work every day and have never lost a job or relationship due to my drinking, but I feel like I must drink just to feel normal. My alcoholism is simply defined as me enjoying being drunk more than sober.