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“I remember when you were just a little girl. Your mother and I tried our best to give you a home where you couldn’t be hurt, since we lived in a bit of a… shady part of town. When you were just a toddler, you would always follow me around the house with that cute little smile of yours, showing me that you still loved me, even after what I had done to the family. Maybe you didn’t know that I divorced your mother and took custody of you because of your undeveloped brain. No, a child naturally…

She walks into my life after dark—and disappears before the world wakes up. I rent a tiny one-bedroom apartment in a quiet coastal town just outside San Francisco. I work from home doing overnight tech support for a major software company I’m not allowed to name. Most of my calls come from system admins in Europe or Australia — people who get locked out of their accounts or freak out when syncs fail. It’s not glamorous, but it pays the bills. Anyway, I’m Nate.

I’d actually seen him on our way home from school. He looked dirty and disturbed, and stared straight at us as our bus went by. We even made jokes about him, probably as our way of pretending we weren’t afraid. He was incredibly out of place in our middle class suburb, so his mere presence felt threatening… thus our panic when the three of us got off at our stop and saw him at the corner, about to look in our direction.

Emily’s sightseeing expedition through Avalon included a trip to some of the notable local historical landmarks and the remains of an ancient Celtic settlement - one of many dotting the area surrounding our new home. ‘This town has a lot of history,’ Emily told me as we trudged past a pair of standing stones. They stood facing one another on either side of the road running to the left of us. ‘I’ve been reading up about it at the library. It's quite the rabbit hole to dive into.’

Starting this blog because I don't know where else to put this. I've spent the last few weeks going through case files that keep showing up in different countries, different years, no obvious connection between them. Police never cross-referenced any of it. I think I know why now. If any of this sounds familiar to you, message me. I need to know I'm not the only one who's noticed the pattern.

This story is inspired by SCP-096 created by Dr Dan, and takes place in the SCP Foundation universe. The cover image was created by dekades8 on DeviantArt and edited by me. Yeah, hey, I don’t know where this will go. If this goes through anywhere, then I guess I got lucky. one. Last. TIME. If you’re reading this, don’t go looking for what I saw. I mean that. Don't look at its face, and this means no photo will be attached.

Notice: This is 'section 2' of the story Ad Nauseam, I have ran into a unique issue due to the size of Ad Nauseam that I had to make this separate story just to continue until said issue is fixed; if you are new and interested please begin reading here: https://nightscri.be/s/89368/ad-nauseam If you are caught up to Chapter 33 then continue to the next page and enjoy! If you came later during this whole max size debacle, then you can skip some.

Documents relating to the events at Slaghtaverty, near Garvagh, 23rd-31st October 2025. Compiled by Hannah Moore My name is Hannah Moore. I'm 35. I'm a freelance audio producer, which means I make podcasts and radio documentaries for people who can afford to pay me, and I record everything, and I label everything, and I keep everything. That habit is the only reason this document exists, and I think it's the only reason I'm not in prison.

My name is Edward Polist, and for most of my life I was a detective. People used to say I had a gift for seeing things others missed, that I could notice patterns hidden in chaos, that I could follow the smallest detail until it led me somewhere real. I believed them, maybe more than I should have. My work became the only thing that made sense to me, the only place where the world followed rules. Evidence led to answers, actions had consequences, and nothing simply happened without a reason.…

Once upon a time in a remote village there was a very old hospital which had a forbidden abandoned wing inside it. Members of the hospital used to brush off the topic of this forbidden abandoned wing of the hospital because there were some people who used to say that this particular wing of the hospital is haunted and has some mystery hidden behind it.No one used to dare talk about that wing of the hospital because everyone was scared of that wing. One day a new nurse who had just recently…

I'm not sure I'm allowed to post this here. If there's a better place, please let me know. I really just want to figure out what happened, so I'm trying to share this on as many forums as possible. If anyone experienced something similar or knows somebody who has, please contact me. I'd be grateful for any information because I really think I'm going insane over this.

Note: This is my own take on the "Clown Statue" urban legend A girl was babysitting two children in Florida while their parents went out on a date. That evening, the mother drove her to the house and dropped her off at the front door. The children's mother came to let her in. "Hi! You must be the babysitter. Come on in." "Hello. Yes, that's me." The father walked over and smiled. "Thanks again for doing this. We won't be gone too long." "No problem." The mother pointed toward the stairs.

I was always afraid of the lunch lady when I was a kid.  I don't know why; maybe it was the toxic stench of her breath, or the dead look in her eyes, or the unkempt hairs dangling off her chin.  No matter what the reason was, my palms grew sweaty and my heart pounded every time I passed her in the lunch line.  I never felt quite at ease until I had left the cafeteria, and even then I still was worried I would catch sight of her in the hallway between classes.

Maybe it's late at night, but you can't sleep. You're bored, or you can't stop a bazillion thoughts from racing through your skull, or maybe you had too much coffee, or you're a little drunk. Whatever the case, I've been there, my friend. I know how it feels to sit there and realize that you're not really living right now. You're just existing. Surely there's something you can do, right?

In the first quarter of 2012, a scientist named Alexander Stuart Khaimov discovered a technological means to immortality. That is to say, Dr. Khaimov fulfilled one of the longest running pursuits of the human race – the desire to defeat death.

The devil on the fiery porch. He was back again that year, the same as he had been for five years running, keeping the majority of Trick or Treaters behind an imaginary line of uneasiness drawn at the edge of the curb with his Hell-red grin and burning cauldrons. It was a scene from Faust, only this was no play; this was my neighborhood.

This is a set of instructions for how to speak with the Devil. Which, as those of you with any sort of brains at all might note, is a patently moronic proposition on the face of it; one likely to culminate in any number of thoroughly unpleasant fates. Honestly, it would probably be smarter to publish your credit card number on Facebook, or take up a career in crocodile-wrestling.

I'm sure you've heard of the Ronald McDonald House charity. They provide housing for families of sick kids when they're in the hospital. Seems pretty innocent, right? Well, there's another side to the charity. There's another type of Ronald McDonald House, one that not many people know about. There's one in most big cities. You won't find it by looking for it. It doesn't have an address. It doesn't have a sign above the door. It doesn't even have windows.

Old father long-Legs Can’t say his prayers. Take him by the left leg And throw him down the stairs. And when he’s at the bottom, Before he long has lain, Take him by the right leg And throw him up again. ~ Nursery rhyme

It’s been nearly twenty years since I had a conversation that would change my life. Twenty years since that boy came into my office and told me perhaps the most fantastical story I would hear all my life. A story that’s stuck in my mind so clearly all of these years. Of course, I didn’t believe it then; but now, after so many years, after the life that I’ve lived since that conversation, I cannot help but think back on that day with guilt and regret, and now finally fear.