#mindfuck

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…

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.

When people who died and come back to life say they saw a bright light, they are full of shit. It’s not necessarily their fault though. The mind has a difficult time figuring out things it has never experienced, therefore the mind cannot understand. I’m one of the special, select few who have experienced death and rebirth…often.

Moving at the end of my high school career is not what I imagined. My mother and father insisted that we move a few towns a way. Far enough to escape poor memories, yet close enough to the ones we wanted to keep. The town we reside in now has a decent enough track record, and the crime rate seems to be pretty low. My father has become so quiet now, so sallow. I swear, my mother's complexion will never come back.

I can't stand when someone is walking behind me or simply that feeling of being watched or followed. It’s not pleasant at all, and personally for me, it’s unbearable. Let me begin by saying that the reason I practically hate it is due to the fact that's how I felt that during most of my childhood. All of the events that I will tell you actually happened so you probably will understand that for protection purposes (yourself, my family and mine) I will avoid providing any names or locations.…

The thick gray clouds blocked out most of the light giving the street a dark appearance and making my heart race. It was a strange feeling, to be so afraid with no conscious reason to be afraid. I walked quickly watching as the clouds swirled and moved in odd patterns that I’ve never seen before. I was used to New England winters and the cold that could creep in unexpectedly, but this was different. The wind was fierce, but not cold. The clouds were uncommon, the dulled daylight that managed to…

My name is Harold Granderson, and I've been the director of the Cleveland Opera for 39 years. I'm sure that doesn't sound like much, what with the picture of Cleveland as a post-industrial wasteland deprived of fine culture, but I can assure you we don't harbor talentless hacks. I make sure of that. Admittedly, it's difficult to attract equally discerning ears. We live in the shadow of the Rock-and-Roll Hall of Fame, where the off-key caterwauling of drunken pseudo-poets is worshiped. Even the…

No one knows that my affluent aunt bequeathed me her favorite thing in the world, the beach house she bought many years ago on the Florida Panhandle. I’ve been renting it out for years actually, though I haven’t visited it since I was a kid. She knew how much I loved her beach house and how overly giddy and thankful I was every time she took me on one of her vacations. My guess is that’s why she gave it to me; I may have been the only one in the family to love it as much as she did. I think she…

Edwin was widely considered to be one of the better actors of his time. Some even called him the best overall. With a healthy, theatrical love for Shakespeare plays, he found any chance he could to get involved in one, a contestant among critics to be the finest Hamlet that there ever was, and ever will be.

You awaken from a hazy dreamless sleep. You hear laughter, deep and booming, as if the source of it is amused. You look to your left at your alarm clock on your nightstand. 6:04 In red digitized numbers.

I stirred from deep within my sleep, unsure of what had woken me, but too tired to put any further thought into it. The mist of an unfinished dream swam around my head, distorted and fading with every second.

Eli fell to the ground and the mud shot into the air and rained back down upon him. A thin layer of this brown liquid covered him from head to toe. He hoped and prayed this masquerade would help him escape. He lifted his head from the puddle and tried to slow down his labored breaths. The guards that were chasing him were nowhere to be found and he didn't hear any talking or crunching of twigs under someones feet. Was he really free? Was this it? The moon hung high in the sky and once he felt…

I was enjoying the quiet until she started screaming.

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…

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.

Hope. It really is the most powerful yet dangerous and cruel of human traits. It forces us to defy logic, sometimes at great cost. Other times it guides us through treacherous waters and back into the arms of our loved ones. We cannot live without being in its presence yet we can die tragically while being draped in it. It is truly a paradox.