#reality

Day 1

They are always there. Always calling to me, at school, at parties, and even with my closest friends. "Come on babe," they'll say, "just grab that pair of scissors from your backpack, go to the bathroom, and we can play around for a little while." I try to remain focused on whatever the task is at hand, but they continue to seduce me. "You know you want to," they'll say. I tell them to wait until tonight to ease them, and as the stern voice weakens to murmurs, I can still hear them.

Finally, I’m home. After working a late night, I finally finished a project that my boss pushed on me. It was all worth it though, because I had a great day ahead of me. The part I was most excited for though, was seeing my son. I finally won the custody battle against my ex-wife, so now I actually get to see him. I fixed up my old spare bedroom for him, although it looked bland in all white. I figured we would have some spare time later and we could make any changes he wanted. I lumbered up…

My freshman year of high school was what had to be the worst year of my life. I used to keep this story to myself- I never told anyone, never wrote it down. I just never saw a point. It’s hardly even possible that anyone would ever believe me. They’d think I was crazy. Which wouldn’t be fair with how much I’ve gone through. But now, I’m dying and my story must be told. I have to warn others not to play the game.

It’s Christmas time, and my mom wanted to start a new tradition. Of course she had to make it “Elf on a Shelf”. I wasn’t too enthusiastic about the idea, but she knew that I wouldn’t go for just a hidden elf. So my mom made it a murdering elf. Why the fuck not, right? It’s already creepy enough looking already. But that’s not it. She put post-it notes on the elf and they were clues to find the “victims” of the elf. She knew I was horrible at finding things, so this was for her amusement. I was…

I moved into town a few weeks ago. I got a new place to live, a new dead-end job, and a new start. I’ll come right out and say it, I’ve been running away from a sordid past my entire life. Well, that’s not exactly true. To be more specific, I’ve been running away from myself. What do I mean by that you ask? Well, I often fall into situations where my true colors show. When that happens, I’m forced to move away and try to start anew.

I must type this sentence to keep the monsters away. I don't know why this works, but it does. The faster I type, the further away they are. Sometimes, I think I might be able to type fast enough to make them go away. Yet, if I stop for only a moment they will return.

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.

I wake up. It’s bright in here. Extremely bright. What is this place? A prison? A hospital? There are 4 solid walls, a stiff cot, and a small vent. Is there a door? I don’t see a door. Where the hell am I? How did I get here? Think… what happened? Remember what happened… Where was I last night? Where did I fall asleep? Shit… I can’t think. I can’t think of anything. Is this some fucked up experiment? I can’t think. I can’t even think of my damn name! Who am I?

Last night at around 1am, my wife and small child walked to my car after a night at my bro-in-law’s house. He lives in a sketchy suburban neighborhood so we are always conscious of our surroundings. As I was getting ready to sit in the driver’s seat I noticed a young black man staring at me with determined eyes. I stared back and nodded but he just stood there staring back at me.

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…

Fingers trembling with excitement I opened the package. Just as I had hoped, it was the camera I won on ebay. With mild delight I realized I had received a better deal than I had realized because the previous owner had left the memory card in the slot.

April 12th, 2013 I’ve always considered myself very logical. I never put myself into uncomfortable situations nor do I let emotions get the best of me. It wasn’t until today where I felt the stable structure of my mind shift a bit. It was all because of her, I’m sure of it. I only saw her for a brief moment in the crowded hallway of my school but what I did see was enough to make my heart skip a beat.

Polybius is an urban legend about a rare arcade game released in 1981. The game was created by a mysterious company called Sinneslöschen (German for "Sense Deletion") and was a puzzle/shoot-'em-up somewhat like Tempest. It was only released in a few suburbs of Portland, Oregon.

Rose Hill Place April 11th Rose Hill Place was a rather indefinable place, all things considered. Nothing about it made it stand out to passersby, nothing in its halls to make it appeal to those who came and visited. It was exactly what it appeared to be: a single-floor complex with over a hundred rooms and three dining halls, enough to fit all who lived there and the occasional guest.

In the first quarter of 2012, a scientist named Alexander Stuart Khaimov discovered a technological means to immortality. That is to say, Dr. Khaimov fulfilled one of the longest running pursuits of the human race – the desire to defeat death.

I sit up with a jolt, disorientated. If it weren’t for the sensation of my eyelids coming together to shield my eyes, I would not be able to determine whether or not they were open. The inky blackness presses In from all angles, suffocating me. You’d think after all the time I’ve spent trapped in this murky prison I’d have adjusted. No, it’s still quite a shock to be released from the depths of unconsciousness, only to be greeted by an infinite plain of shadows.

There had been many rumors of a shooting that was supposed to take place today. All these rumors had me on edge all day and I was still fidgeting in my seat even though I knew it would be fine and nothing would happen. It was lunch time when the school shooting was supposed to happen and that’s where I find myself right now. All I can think is that a school shooting would be such a terrible thing...

This isn't a confession. You can't prove a damn thing, so don't even try. I'll deny it to my grave. I'm on my third drink for the evening anyways. You can't trust the word of a drunken man. That's when I start to feel anything these days, the third drink. Sometimes it takes four, but usually three will do. It's the same cycle every night for weeks now, I drink, then I start to feel, then the fear comes over me, then I drink some more until I pass out.

A few months ago a friend of mine, who is an up-and-coming nature photographer, decided to spend a day and night alone in the woods outside of our town. She wanted to get photos of the woods and wildlife as naturally as she could for her portfolio. She wasn’t afraid of being alone, as she had camped by herself many times before.