#reality

3:47 pm. August 4th, 1973. My name is Kevin Matthews. I am at the Matthews Lakeside cabin in Black Rock Park which I received in my dad's will. I'm writing this to document my odd findings of my family's lakehouse.

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.

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.

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...

I just want to start off by saying if you want an answer at the end, prepare to be disappointed. There just isn't one. I was an intern at Nickelodeon Studios for a year in 2005 for my degree in animation. It wasn't paid of course, most internships aren't, but it did have some perks beyond education. To adults it might not seem like a big one, but most kids at the time would go crazy over it.

“The year is nineteen-ninety-nine.” That sentence brings me back to my senior kindergarten class when I was five years old, where we used to read out the date on the blackboard every single day. The year 1999 exists as a stain in my mind however, as a memory that will not go away no matter how I try to forget it. 1999 marked the year I lost my first tooth, my first time on a plane, and unfortunately the early loss of my childhood innocence.

When I was younger I used to work as a night auditor for a very popular hotel chain in New Orleans. This particular hotel was once an old warehouse in the Central Business District. It had a long history that dated back to the Underground Railroad where tunnels built throughout the building were used to secretly lead slaves to boats on the Mississippi River. When the hotel owners started to demo the property to convert it into a hotel, they found old distillery equipment used during the…

Psychology bones - They sound weird, right, but I can feel my own psychology bones and other psychology bones in other people’s minds. Psychology bones aren’t bones for the body, but the mind, they are extremely flexible and cannot be seen by the naked eyes, they are constantly breaking and forming back together and breaking again. They make up the mind and they determine what sort of mind you have and why you think the way you do.

You wish you had followed your instincts. If only you had not ventured down into the subway tunnel, in pursuit of the masked stranger you had unfortunately encountered less than forty-eight hours ago. You quickly become adjusted to the dim white light, as you look down the seemingly endless tunnel. All too quickly, you feel a quick push and then become aware of the cold rails beneath you. A blinding light gives your eyes cause to squint, as the stars that cloud your eyesight clear. A loud horn…

When the Wind Blows. That was a title I hadn’t heard in a long time. It was just obviously a British animated film based on a graphic novel by Raymond Briggs. You know, the guy who did The Snowman? It centered around an elderly couple then one day, word came out that war would break out in three days. The graphic novel was written around the height of the Cold War. The threat of nuclear war was as high as it is now.

A single unfinished opera entitled 'The Matinee of the Damned' is an incomplete and cursed piece of music that has plagued the eyes, ears and hearts of those who bear witness to this piece and has taken the lives of those who dare to try and finish the ballad.

Cyborg X West daughter Alexandretta. After the two bank heist she returns to the woods of her Father Rage and to his cabin in the most ancient woods. She IS a Demon Gained Predestiny to Become a Demon like Her Father also with the Brain Waves, Reprogrammed with the Yellow Seal and Samadhi with the Brain Waves. She is an unstoppable force of pure Cyborg Unit Programmed with Glory. She Senses like her Father Rage who to Hunt.

I must have been six or seven when I lived in Lebanon. The country was ravaged by war at the time, and murders were common and frequent. I remember during a particularly vicious era, when the bombings rarely stopped, I would stay at home sitting in front of my television watching a very, very strange show.

Let me start off by saying that as far as I can remember, this is all true, it’s not ‘creepypasta’ or anything like my previous posts, there’s no satisfying conclusion or an explanation, so if that’s what you’re here for, I’m sorry but you won’t find it, but this is how I remember it. It’s a story of two incidents that occurred in my mother’s house separated by years of normality, the latest of which happening in the early hours of the morning beginning the 26th of December 2011.

Friday, December 25, 2026 “Ahh… Ahh… Ahhn...” If you are wondering, That's Anne. She has been making that sound for as long as I have known her. Years now, I think. It is hard to say for sure. I don't mind it, though. Actually, if I'm being honest, I like hearing it. It means she's happy. Which makes me happy. Right now, she's in the other room. Come to think of it… She's always in the other room. I've never actually seen it. That's a little strange.

Don’t dismiss this outright as the work of some raving lunatic. There’s some sense to this story, if you’ll just hear me out… Look, we all wonder if time travel is possible, right? Well let me tell you something… it is. I’m from the future, actually. I know you probably don’t believe that, but seriously, I’m from the future. It’s a really great thing; getting to see the past, watching events unfold.. stuff like that. We know more now than we ever would.

I'll never forget the summer of 1998, or the encounters I shared with my classmates. When I was ten years old, just two weeks into the beginning of the school year, the entire fifth grade was taken on a special week-long camping trip to 'Camp High Hope' in Indiana. Being ten years old, the idea of spending a week away from home, without any parents or siblings, just friends and the other kids from school, was one of the coolest experiences you could ever hope for as a child.

There is nothing beyond our simple lives. This is what I'm told by mama and papa but I don't agree with them- they don't know this but I've already learned about the "Great Big Ones". Who are the Great Big Ones you might ask? well they call themselves "Humans" whatever that means... but to us they are akin to gods. Our lives revolve around them as much as it does food or water because they provide many things: shelter, food, water, and even protection against other bugs but with that comes a…

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…

In the heart of the city stands an abandoned bakery. It is a high, sprawling complex of brick and granite, and its great smokestack still stands watch over the loading bays where fleets of gleaming trucks once began their journeys to supermarkets across New England.