#paranormal

Of the early days of the world, after our ancestors crossed the Bering Straight and millennia before any of the tribes we know of today existed, very little is actually remembered. Sure, there are tales of the beginning of Man, and of the Earth, but those are only fables… legends told to explain what was then unexplainable. This, however, is not a fable, but a story. A story probably distorted by time, but at its core true, nonetheless.

The job was simple. It paid well enough. Even if it hadn’t, I would have taken it anyway. After nine months of unemployment, choice stops being a luxury and starts feeling like arrogance. I started on a Tuesday. Odd, I know. They said they were in a rush—something about the previous guy leaving without notice. Apparently the guy just walked out mid-week and never came back. A red flag, sure. But red flags fade when rent is due.

Don’t go in there! It’s all a trap." ​Josh was a 25-year-old hotel receptionist in Black Stone, a town in northern Pennsylvania. He had started the job shortly after graduating from university in Michigan. He was a quiet, down-to-earth kind of guy who always tried to find a rational explanation for everything. But that night, something happened at the hotel that put his sense of reality to the ultimate test.

Hi, I’m Zack, and I’m going to share my experiences with Carbon, a high-tech security lab. Though I’m sure you know me for my experience as a security guard watching over an abandoned Disney park that had lured children to their demise. I had never wanted to talk about any of my other experiences before, but now that I’ve said my first one, I think it’s time for me to explain.

I've been such a coward. Never before have I stooped this low. Never before have I done something like this out of fear. Yes, it's all because of a fear that can thoroughly be explained and the reason is an understandable one. But somehow the feeling I got from doing it hasn't left me. It's like it's slowly rubbing my back, poisoning my skin. It has burned itself deep into my soul and the chills I got from that day still haven't disappeared in the slightest. I dislike this feeling.

Chapter 1: The Arrival My name is Emily Parker, and I've always been drawn to the mysteries of the supernatural. So, when rumors of a haunted mansion hidden deep in the woods reached my ears, I couldn't resist the pull of curiosity. Little did I know that my quest for answers would lead me into the heart of darkness itself.

This is another I posted on /r/nosleep several years ago. I wanted to write something in the style of the horror anthologies I enjoyed as a kid in the '90s, such as Ask the Bones, The Scary Story Reader, or the classic Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark. ----

First, let me introduce myself. My name is Anthony Salaria, and this is my story. I used to think the world was a big place. Now I know better. The world is only as big as the distance between you and whatever is trying to kill you.

Once, I visited the strangest restaurant. But it was not a normal restaurant, and I am not normal anymore either, since that fateful encounter with a cook called Alice. It was back during my college days when a friend from high school introduced me to the place. My friend, let's call him Sam, noticed me when I was shopping, browsing the aisle in search of new shoes to replace the pair that broke. At first I didn't recognize him because he looked so different. Sam was a lot thinner than he was…

This story is based off something my friend told me, there’s is no evidence of this being true but I believe it is, enjoy reading it…

I have 847 hours of field recording across three years of this work. I can tell you the exact timestamp — 2:14:37 AM — when a door opened by itself in a farmhouse outside Carbondale. Baseline decibel reading before it moved, the spike, the return to baseline in 0.4 seconds. Filed, labeled, cross-referenced with humidity readings and structural reports. Probable explanation still listed as HVAC pressure differential, confirm with building superintendent. The superintendent retired in 2019.

Lucas Thorne gulped as he turned the corner and saw the rotting corpse of a house that sat at the edge of town. The house seemed twisted as its warped wooden frame sagged under its weight. Grime smeared the windows, reflecting only the fading light of dusk. As his eyes darted around, he confirmed one thing: he was alone. He reconsidered his choice to volunteer for the cleanup.

The past is not dead. It is not even past." — William Faulkner • I don't remember who called me about the funeral. I assume it was Aunt Lillian's neighbor, or maybe someone from the church, but the truth is, I picked up the phone, I heard my name, and everything after that is a smear of static and vowels. Now I'm standing on the porch of my great-aunt's house, our family's house surrounded by pines, decay, and a smell I can't name but instinctively hate. The front door is already open.

Last Tuesday, I noticed a new app on my phone called "Follow the Leader." No icon, just a white circle on a black background. Being bored and fourteen, I opened it. It was just a GPS map of my neighborhood with two dots: a blue one for me and a red one about three streets over. A text popped up at the bottom: “The Leader is moving. Keep up.”

Oct 10 - Today is cloudy Starting today, I'm going to keep a diary! My family includes little Jack, my mom, and the "Red Devil" too! My mom and the Red Devil are always getting into fights! It’s a total blast—whenever the Red Devil comes home drunk, a fight with Mom breaks out. Little Jack is really timid and just cries when he sees it, but I actually find it fun! Oct 11 - Today is warm

I naturally fell into babysitting around the age of 14. As the oldest of two older siblings, I was used to watching younger kids a fair amount of the time. So through friends and family, I got leads for babysitting to score some cash, which definitely beat having to work at a restaurant. The job had its ups and downs, but overall it wasn’t a bad gig at all. Yet, as many good experiences as I had, they were all eclipsed by one night.

Mr. Pike arrived shortly after noon. I knew it was him before father said anything. There was something about the way the man approached the house that made him uneasy. Most visitors, as in would imagine, would look towards the farmhouse first. Not Pike. He looked straight to the woods. He came up the road in a dark green truck that coughed smoke behind it and rattled like loose bones. The truck stopped near the barn, but Pike didn’t immediately get out of the truck.

I already know what you’re thinking. A gnome? Despite what the term I use might suggest, these creatures aren't rosy cheeked little bearded men with a pointy hats and quaint little tunics. As my friend would later find out, and as I'd feared for a long time, these beings are much stranger and far different from what is typically portrayed.

The Doorman

​Steve was a respected city official who, from time to time, liked to break away from his daily routine and visit his hometown, located about 30 kilometers away. He stood at the station dressed in an elegant suit and hat, carrying a large suitcase. The weather that day was drowsy and rainy; he had forgotten to bring an umbrella. Thus, when the train arrived, he boarded quickly, took a window seat, and began to read a book. The front of the locomotive bore a sign: "Train to Nowhere."