#reality

Kevin awoke and there was no music from his alarm clock radio, only dead air. Lucky for him, the blaring of a car alarm from the street below was loud enough to wake him. He lurched out of bed aware he was running late and hurried into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and was about to step in, when he heard the noise of a cart being pushed across the floor of his apartment floor. With the shower still running and some water dripping onto the bathroom floor, he slowly creaked out of the…

It's been about 3 months since I moved into my new apartment on the third floor of a friends friend's complex. It was way cheaper than anything else on the market that a second year college student like myself could afford. Plus I figured a change in scenery from my roommate playing Soft core animated porno games and listening to loud annoying techno music was due.

You never thought your life would come down to this, a choice between your heart and your life. Your heart is pounding in your chest like it's trying to make up for years of beats that it may never know, and every breath has an amazing taste, as if the air itself had a flavor. You can hear the waves of the lake, though it's at least five miles outside of town, or is it the blood in your ears that you're hearing, each crash of the waves matching the samba beat of your faltering heart. This must…

I was enjoying the quiet until she started screaming.

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye? A simple movement caught in your peripheral vision. Most will simply dismiss this as a shadow brought about by a flickering candle, or perhaps a pet jumping down from a piece of furniture. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, these people are right.

My whole life is stuck in a routine others seem to benefit from, whereas I only suffer. Day after day, it's the same thing; Smile. Don't complain. Don't burden other people. Be quiet. Smile. Repeat. No one suspected a thing - My lie must have been pretty deceiving. But I could only hope that one day - hopefully one day soon - someone would figure it out, and save me. That day came close, so close that I could taste it, could feel it within my reach, but I messed up. I messed up, and forgot…

May 18, 2011. My name is Greg, I just moved into my new house in Pennsylvania. Me and my Girlfriend have had the house for at least four months now and we've managed to mold it into what we've wanted for years. My Girlfriend, Carmen works almost the entire day so I find myself with the entire new house to myself with a lot of time to kill. But lets just cut to the chase...

Electrons excite me. Perhaps that is why I took so readily to computers. By the age of 13 I had cobbled together my first computer from the odd bits leftover from the old computers of friends and family. The rush of creation and experimentation that I felt that day has never been matched, but my experiments are getting closer to recapturing that glory.

Mark sighed and looked out at the night sky. He was standing on the roof of his apartment building, four stories up. Sometimes Mark just liked to stay up here and reflect, it was quiet and peaceful. Looking down you could see the normal hustle and bustle of city life but if you looked up you could see the beautiful sky, and sometimes even a full moon or some stars.

A lot of these stories start off with, "I don’t know why I’m writing this." Well, this isn’t one of them tales. In fact, I knew full well I should be writing this, even though I was told not to. I can’t in good conscious not tell this story.

I ran, I ran as fast as my legs could take me. The acrid smell building inside the hallway made it hard to breathe. I was getting more tired and tired as each ounce of air was released from my lungs. For I knew he was getting closer, I knew that he would eventually grasp my arm with tremendous force, smashing it. I needed to get away. I needed to leave. I woke up sweating with tears coming from my eyes, probably from the fear of my dream. I stood up and before I could even put on any close, my…

I’ve worked in prisons for the criminally insane for 10 years now, and I can honestly say I wouldn’t change my job for the world. With any hard work rehabilitation is possible, and I believe true justice can be served. I remember my first day vividly, how terrified I was to do night shifts. How uneasy I got walking that long dark, silent corridor. That phrase you hear on your first day sticks with you forever. “Eyes down, keep right.”

I live in a small town in upstate South Carolina. Nothing much happens here, so it seems with every story’s beginning. Nevertheless, it’s normal... right? I mean, the most spectacular thing that’s ever happened here was probably when there was a new stop sign put up near Deerfield, or perhaps after the Masons started up a new church. Not much I guess. My neighbourhood is pretty quiet. I guess it’s because there was no other kids around but me. I don’t really mind it though, besides, I’m a…

I’ve been diagnosed with Dissociative Identity Disorder, or what most people would call Multiple Personality Disorder. I haven’t told a lot of people about it, because, well, it’s not an easy thing to talk about. And I have this constant fear of seeming like I’m seeking attention, and since I can’t prove it then it’s just kind of useless to talk about.

You lay in your bed, comfortably, staring at your ceiling. Your air conditioning is whirring, allowing you to completely relax and slowly drift into sleep. Just as you start to fall asleep your air conditioner cuts off. You can hear everything. You have a relatively large room. You're starting to become uncomfortable, but instead of moving to get into a better position you lay still. Almost frozen.

"Wake up! Wake up!" Your brain is trying to jolt you awake. However meek and disturbing your dream was, does not compare to what you will see when you wake.

If you really believe in something, it can be yours. That's how we've been conditioned to think. Mostly, I suppose it's a coping mechanism to keep us from eating the rich. We all think we'll be rich someday if we just want it hard enough. How long has it been since there was a good, old-fashioned culling of the wealthy elite? That probably wasn't a good way to start this blog post… I'm more than a little tired, but fuck it. I'm leaving it. "Corruptus".

It was a cold winter night in a very very remote town, out in the middle of nowhere. A debate team from a larger city had driven out that morning and had done very well, not finishing until around midnight. When the bus finally set off, it was around 12:45. As students filed onto the bus to go home, the driver turned on the strobe on top of the bus, so if they got in a wreck or anything they could easily be seen.

Okay, let me make this easy by explaining how I did what I did. In Layman’s terms, of course. I like to experiment. Metals, wires, chemicals, those kind of things. I’m not super, super serious about it. I go to college for linguistics, I’m pretty normal. My favorite things to work with are things that the public aren’t really supposed to get ahold of. I did a comparison via microscope of a Cuban cigar to one from Nicaragua, and was actually able to spot some key differences.

My basement has never exactly been a welcoming place. It’s unfurnished; there’s no carpet and the walls consist of boring, exposed bricks. There’s a set of old wooden stairs on one end that creaks whenever anyone uses them. Behind the stairs is a storage area that begins about four or five feet off the ground and goes maybe fifteen feet further back underneath the garage. The place is a dump, as my brother NEVER cleans it, and toys and tools and random things are sprawled out across the entire…