#sleeping

When I read the articles about him. I spent three weeks looking through my window. I was terrified by the thought of him being in the woods. I thought it was hunting me at first, trying to get me into a tragedy; it wanted me to suffer, but I was entirely wrong. I know, what a way to start, but I have been suffering from sudden explosive nosebleeds and migraines.

I've always loved the dark. It feels warm and welcoming. Like a mask, hiding all the stress and emotion that the daylight shows so explicitly and replacing them with a sensuous feeling. The dark reveals your true nature and abolishes the facade you play during the daytime. Yes. The dark is good. You can be yourself in the dark and not feel judged or threatened all the while by being yourself.

This story was archived and was sent to me by a 12-year-old woman from a small town in coastal South Georgia, near the Florida line, who just lost their family due to mysterious circumstances. Here’s their story: My parents have been gone for quite some time, and I always prayed for them to come home. I live alone, and I sat on the couch, holding my blanket until I saw my front door open slightly.

When I woke up in the morning, I knew something was off. Pretty soon I realized that I was missing a tooth. Upper set, one of the front ones. I'm not a particularly vain person, but losing a tooth upset me a lot. My anxiety flared and my mind exploded with reasons why my tooth could've fallen out. Was it because I only brushed my teeth once a day on the weekends? Or was it something with my gums? I went through the day with my upper lip curled over my teeth and my mind filled with every…

Screaming. I woke up screaming. Looking around once again to a completely empty room. I panted in the dark, and stared around wildly to make sure I was home in my room. Looking at my bedside table at the clock, it was the same time as before; the dreams were getting worse. 3:30AM. I closed my eyes, when I did, I felt hot breath on my face and the crooked mirthless laughter rang in my ears. The alarm clock went off, and I sat up slowly. Blinking myself awake and looking around the room. The sun…

I lived in an old cabin in the middle of the forest, a place far from people and noise, which was exactly what I longed for. I didn't like being among people or hearing loud voices, so I only went to town to buy food and a few supplies, then I'd return straight to my quiet cabin. Solitude comforted me, and I found everything I needed in the embrace of nature.

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.

I have to say one of the things I hate the most is to have somebody walking behind me, doesn't matter if it's a friend or a complete stranger, I don't like it. I feel insecure, watched and uncomfortable. You might call me paranoid but honestly, for me, it’s unbearable. Let me begin by saying that the reason I practically hate that is because of some occurrences during my childhood. All of the events that I will tell you actually happened so you probably will understand that for protection…

The first time my neighbor asked if I was new here I said yes. The second time I told her she'd already asked. This started in the parking area of an old apartment building. It was evening and my cousin and I were sitting there talking about random things. The building was old. The paint was faded. The balconies looked worn out and there were cracks in some of the walls. Nothing looked scary. It just felt strange. And it was very quiet.

My name was Private Charles Lee Locod, I enlisted back in ’67 for the U.S. Army. I traded my fiancée for a rifle, my home for a tent, and three years of my life for someone else. Some men kill to live; I was one of those men. Though I don’t think I ever actually killed anyone, at least I did my best not to. Then there are men who live to kill, men like Sergeant Stevens. He was a back woods Carolina man who took pleasure in each gruesome act. The last I saw him was a few days ago when he waved…

Joseph sat slumped on the sofa, staring into the darkness beyond the patio windows. The only light source being a dim lamp on a side table. Any light would have done for him to ease the fear he had of ‘the Bad Man’. He had hurt Joseph’s neck, and when he had awoken the next night, Joseph wanting to do the same to others. He glanced at the clock on the wall. Smiling, he knew it would soon be time. Another few minutes.

I woke up sweating. This was the third time this week that I had this strange recurring dream. It feels so real, like I can hear the voices clearly, feel the contact with my skin. Sometimes I can't tell if it's real or not.

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.

I can't stand when someone is walking behind me or simply that feeling of being watched or followed. It’s not pleasant at all, and personally for me, it’s unbearable. Let me begin by saying that the reason I practically hate it is due to the fact that's how I felt that during most of my childhood. All of the events that I will tell you actually happened so you probably will understand that for protection purposes (yourself, my family and mine) I will avoid providing any names or locations.…

It’s been three years since the day I fled from that abandoned building and discovered the truth about the hanging shadow glitch in Luigi’s Mansion, witnessing that disturbing cutscene. I haven’t been able to sleep at all recently. For those wondering, yes, it was me—the original person who wrote about the shadow.

You will dream of me. You will dream of me. You will dream of me. I will appear to you every night. And frighten you, and you will think I am just a ghost. I will appear in your worst nightmares. I will be your worst fear. I will be your fear. You will dream of me. You will dream of me. I am not just a ghost. I am not just a ghost. You will find me watching you every night.

The floor was vibrating. The walls shook, pathetically trying to withstand the shifting below the foundations of the apartment complex. The television fell over, coughing up shards of glass in it's last breath. I cursed all the money wasted, calculating the price of the setback in my head. Outside my window lay a contrasting scene of a magnificent Sun shining over the city.

I begin tucking him into bed and he tells me, “Daddy check for monsters under my bed.” I look underneath for his amusement and see him, another him, under the bed, staring back at me quivering and whispering, “Daddy there’s somebody on my bed.”

In the fall of 2011, a man hung himself in a bottling factory of a popular over the counter sleep aide company just outside Chicago. The man worked as a quality control manager and had just been laid off to save the company money. In the morning, the cleaning crew found him swaying in the breeze from the air conditioning system with a note in his breast pocket that read “sleep tight.”

I remember I would wake up screaming and nearly drown myself in cold sweat. I'd try to turn on a light or get a drink of water, but I couldn't even move. It was only a matter of seconds until my eyes would turn into old sepia camera filters, and "they" would appear. You probably wonder what I mean when I say that. I mean, the figures that defined my childhood, and have stood the test of time. They appeared by my door like always, leaning slowly, stabbing me with those blank, obscured eyes. My…