I know you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m telling you this. I should have kept my mouth shut, should’ve stayed quiet like everyone else does when they’ve seen something they shouldn’t have. People do it for all sorts of reasons. Some are too scared to talk, afraid that speaking out might invite whatever it is they saw back into their lives. Others stay silent because they can’t put the pieces together, can’t explain what happened, and the fear of not being believed is worse than carrying the memory alone. Then there are those who simply think it’s better to leave the past buried, as if ignoring it will make it go away. The problem is, once you’ve seen something…

I Every man fears something, whether they want to admit it or not, and I must admit that I myself am still afraid of windows 10 years after what happened to the Surfadelics. I’ll recount what happened that night in the most detail possible, just to see if anyone could possibly relate or share a similar experience to what me and my friends had gone through. II I was playing in the garage band with my friends, we’ll call them Deakin, the backup-drummer, Toby, the guitarist, Jay, the drummer, and myself, the bassist and pianist. We called ourselves the “Surfadelics”, since we incorporated a lot of surf and funk music into our jams, as well as because we only knew…

It was a quiet, cold, windy night in the cornfield I was in with my dog. My father told me to search through the somewhat small yet vast cornfield. My father was always scared of people that weren’t us in his field. We both grew up hearing stories of our family members encountering unexplainable shit in forests, old buildings, and that very cornfield my father sent me to search. I remember how my father used to tell me experiences he had in that field. Like seeing the stalks move on their own when the night was still and hearing sounds of animals like coyotes far or even close to him. Yet he’s with me sharing the story. I always take…

It was a quiet, cold, windy night in the cornfield I was in with my dog. My father told me to search through the somewhat small yet vast cornfield. My father was always scared of people that weren’t us in his field. We both grew up hearing stories of our family members encountering unexplainable shit in forests, old buildings, and that very cornfield my father sent me to search. I remember how my father used to tell me experiences he had in that field. Like seeing the stalks move on their own when the night was still and hearing sounds of animals like coyotes far or even close to him. Yet he’s with me sharing the story. I always take…

I know you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m telling you this. I should have kept my mouth shut, should’ve stayed quiet like everyone else does when they’ve seen something they shouldn’t have. People do it for all sorts of reasons. Some are too scared to talk, afraid that speaking out might invite whatever it is they saw back into their lives. Others stay silent because they can’t put the pieces together, can’t explain what happened, and the fear of not being believed is worse than carrying the memory alone. Then there are those who simply think it’s better to leave the past buried, as if ignoring it will make it go away. The problem is, once you’ve seen something…

I Every man fears something, whether they want to admit it or not, and I must admit that I myself am still afraid of windows 10 years after what happened to the Surfadelics. I’ll recount what happened that night in the most detail possible, just to see if anyone could possibly relate or share a similar experience to what me and my friends had gone through. II I was playing in the garage band with my friends, we’ll call them Deakin, the backup-drummer, Toby, the guitarist, Jay, the drummer, and myself, the bassist and pianist. We called ourselves the “Surfadelics”, since we incorporated a lot of surf and funk music into our jams, as well as because we only knew…

It was a quiet, cold, windy night in the cornfield I was in with my dog. My father told me to search through the somewhat small yet vast cornfield. My father was always scared of people that weren’t us in his field. We both grew up hearing stories of our family members encountering unexplainable shit in forests, old buildings, and that very cornfield my father sent me to search. I remember how my father used to tell me experiences he had in that field. Like seeing the stalks move on their own when the night was still and hearing sounds of animals like coyotes far or even close to him. Yet he’s with me sharing the story. I always take…

I know you’re probably wondering why the hell I’m telling you this. I should have kept my mouth shut, should’ve stayed quiet like everyone else does when they’ve seen something they shouldn’t have. People do it for all sorts of reasons. Some are too scared to talk, afraid that speaking out might invite whatever it is they saw back into their lives. Others stay silent because they can’t put the pieces together, can’t explain what happened, and the fear of not being believed is worse than carrying the memory alone. Then there are those who simply think it’s better to leave the past buried, as if ignoring it will make it go away. The problem is, once you’ve seen something…

I Every man fears something, whether they want to admit it or not, and I must admit that I myself am still afraid of windows 10 years after what happened to the Surfadelics. I’ll recount what happened that night in the most detail possible, just to see if anyone could possibly relate or share a similar experience to what me and my friends had gone through. II I was playing in the garage band with my friends, we’ll call them Deakin, the backup-drummer, Toby, the guitarist, Jay, the drummer, and myself, the bassist and pianist. We called ourselves the “Surfadelics”, since we incorporated a lot of surf and funk music into our jams, as well as because we only knew…