#reality

If you venture deep into the forests of the Appalachian Mountains, you must wear tight-fitting clothes at all times. Make sure that your pant legs are tucked into your socks, and be sure to wear heavy boots. This is very important. Because what many don't know, is that there is something stocking these mountains. A creature with a voracious appetite, for human flesh. They hide all around you; in bushes, under rocks, or in the branches of tall trees. Their dark eyes leer out from under their…

Some neighborhood kids and I are going to commit a felony tonight, but it's no big deal. We've been committing a felony for almost two weeks now. We've developed a new pastime, and this all began when Cody Winters told us about the Railroad Game. This is the type of shit that happens when you live in a quaint suburb, filled with kids and teenagers that have nothing better to do.

"I had a weird dream last night." "A really. Weird. Dream..." ------ My name is _______. I'm a good guy I think. And I like good people. That's pretty much my sole criteria for deciding if I want to hang out with someone. And I pride myself in my ability to tell good people. Once I decide you're good people, we’re good. Friends for life.

A hard copy of the following document was discovered in a disused office suite on the outskirts of Manchester, New Hampshire. Extensive research has so far failed to turn up any information about the former tenants or the provenance of the “report”.  The investigation continues. – A. A. EXECUTIVE SUMMARY This after-action report recommends the complete and immediate abandonment of high-value target SODA BOTTLE despite the costs to be incurred by the Organization as a result. BACKGROUND

“I was fourteen at the time. I and my friend Leo Carper went to the Grizzly Rocks,” the storyteller hesitated as he stumbled on a thought, then continued: “I should have put it a different way, so I correct the error. Leo should have come first: of the two of us, he was the major figure, as it were. Daredevil is about him. Ringleader and photographer par excellence,” the storyteller paused and could not go on for a few minutes as he rode out his overwhelming feelings. “I thought back to his…

Our lost, loitering kind paced in infinite death spirals within the confines of our grotty, ghetto pens. Enrichment was sorely that, as well as mumbling our mantras of madness to our audience of one. The BMs anchored to our decayed craniums were garbled with feedback and distortion, their tones bland, colorless, no soul backing them up. A blinding ruby radiance flashed from their cores every second on the second. It was the only manner to determine if we had succumbed to the glorious embrace of…

Bordering my property line, a manufactured home is left to be devoured by mother nature, abandoned. I have owned my property for multiple years, and, throughout that time, an owner has never been present, nor had I seen anything suspicious — until recently.

I want to tell you about what happened with my sister and her boyfriend.  It was a long time ago now, but I still feel like someone ought to know. My sister’s name is Diffie.  I mean, her real name is Eugenia, but no one calls her that.  You know how it goes.  When this all happened, she working part-time at the Food Ministry downtown and living upstairs in our parents’ big old farmhouse.

(Inspired by the The Zodiac Killer) The letter arrived on a quiet morning. Plain envelope. No return address. Inside, a message—neatly written, almost calm. “I like killing people because it is so much fun.” The newsroom fell silent. At first, they thought it was a prank. Until the police confirmed it. The details in the letter… only the killer could know. He didn’t stop there. More letters came. Each one colder than the last. Each one playing a game.

I recovered from a coma I had a while back; I can’t recall the date, but I was driving back from a convenience store for groceries, and one of the overhead cables blew out and hit my vehicle, and then I woke up; it was somewhere like my own home but not really.

Before I start this story, I should point out that I believe in the paranormal. I have seen ghosts throughout my lifetime, and I even believe in aliens—I mean, I’ve seen UFOs flying around. My belief in them only grew stronger after hearing a story my dad shared with me. Let me just jump into this; I don’t want to ramble on.

Liber Kiffmet — An Occult Dream Of Sorts Gone Bad With Dope & Weed © Andre Michael Pietroschek (if you must, pronounce Pee-tro-shack), all rights reserved Disclaimer: No warranties! This story idea is fictitious, not real, and was inspired by some episodes of the Frozen Frights podcast. Meanwhile, me going nostalgia-lane on the young adult memories is part of this story's surrealism.

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.

I never thought much about puppets. They were relics of another time, something my grandparents might have found amusing before the age of screens. I'd seen them in dusty attics and antique shops, their faces painted in stiff, eternal grins. They were lifeless, inert things that didn't deserve a second thought. But that was before it came to town.

The term “synthetic drug” refers to a new type of drug on the market that has been created to skirt existing laws on illicit drugs. Thousands of psychoactive compounds are regulated by the law of the Federal Controlled Substances Act. However, in creating synthetic drugs, manufacturers alter the chemical structure of an illegal drug, modifying it to create an “analog” or derivative of that drug, to, essentially, make it quote unquote legal.

The darkness. It's all there is. This deep, endless black that would make a moonless night seem blindingly bright. Never would I have imagined that such a darkness as this could exist. But it does, and now it's all I know. I stopped searching for the light a long time ago. It's kind of funny. . . Because I actually thought I knew darkness before. I was wrong. The pain.

STATEMENT OF MICHAEL COLLINS Unnecessary sounds, such as “ums” and “ahs” have been omitted from the following statement for the purpose of making this statement easier to read. Det. Lori Denny: Mr. Collins, thank you for coming, I'm Detective Denny. I would like to remind you that our conversation will be recorded… With that out of the way, how are you doing? Need a coffee or water? I can get one for you.

​Lisa was an ordinary teenager who loved going for walks and hanging out with her friends. She was helpful and kind-hearted toward everyone. Her parents were teachers; her mother was French and her father was German. Lately, however, misunderstandings between them had become more frequent. They couldn't find a common language anymore, and the air between them was thick with the threat of divorce.

Why is this happening to me? I'm not a bad person! I've never hurt anyone; hell, I've never even cheated on a math test! So, why is it here? Why did it choose me? I'm in the hall closet on the second floor, while that "thing" wanders around my home, searching for me! It's the only place I can hide, the only place I feel safe! I don't plan on staying here long, just long enough for it to pass me by. Then, I'll make a run for the front door downstairs!

Back in February of 2008, I decided that I needed a change in my monotonous life. Whether that change would come in the form of a new job or a new toothbrush, I didn't know. I was never the most adventurous person, I've always found it difficult to veer away from my comfort zone and the limit of my existence usually depended upon which book I was reading at the time. It took me a while to realise that my happiness often derived from the stories that my mind was living in; I was an avid bookworm…