The ball streaked towards little Jimmy Hanson, covering the distance uncomfortably fast. The scrawny boy two sizes too small with the aviator glasses, cringed out of the way. It landed directly where he had been standing, and like that the game ended. “Damnit Jimmy, you’re supposed to catch the ball not hide from it!” a fat kid with a glove on one hand cried. A skinny boy with glasses turned from the pitcher’s mound to look at Jimmy disdain clearly visible on his face, “This is the third run you’ve allowed, and you wonder why we never let you play with us. You’re dog shit! Actually, I apologize to all loads of shit out there, you’re even more useless. I’d…

I don’t want to burst anyone’s bubble, here… so if you believe in haunted “Lost Episode” legends and enjoy living in that world, maybe this isn’t the post for you. Don’t get me wrong – I hate when people complain about “lack of realism” in entertainment, and I think all kids need to believe in Santa and the Tooth Fairy for as long as possible, but… this is different. Back in the 80s I met this dude, Sid, who used to cut old VHS tapes and shit. It was more than a hobby for him – it was pretty much his entire life. His parents were a bit more wealthy than I’d been blessed with, so when we were teenagers…

I hate the noise. It’s merely just a relentless assault on my senses in this chaotic realm, but one that is certainly effective enough. It distracts me from my thoughts, it distracts me from what i’m supposed to be doing right now. The luminosity of the pizzeria doesn’t assist my case, either. It’s all a tad bit bright, a tad bit colorful, it’s too much for my brain to process. My mind wrestles with the incessant clamor that permeates every corner of this whimsical yet tumultuous place. I was distracted when I exited the bathroom. I was confident that Ted would not suspect a thing about my hunt, unless he saw the blood on my hands, but the lights… they…

Nobody remembers when they appeared, some think they have been here since the beginning of time and space, or at least since the first human existed, others think they came into existence more recently. I personally don’t care where they come from, or how they got here, I only really care about keeping myself alive. The copycats, that’s what we call them. Most of the time they look almost human, trying to copy the appearances of their last victims. I say almost, because they often appear as tall as the streetlights, or have big bulging eyes and smiles with too many teeth. Some of them can speak too, sort of as a way to lure us out. In reality, most…

Never get a hole in one at a mini-golf course. Trust me, the risk is not worth the fleeting sense of accomplishment. Let’s be real. You probably got one on accident, anyway, so any pride you’d feel is underserved. At Putt Head’s Mini-Golf and Arcade, getting a hole in one, on the 18th hole, earned you a free game. It was a gimmick that everyone tried for. Even if your family was completely sick of the looping kiddie music playing over the rusted speakers and everyone was in-fighting by the end… they still tried for the hole in one. Free is free. When I was a kid, I got a hole in one at the local mini-golf course. I felt…

It’s a marvel how the road remains cloaked in darkness at the tender hour of 5 in the morning. I’ve never anticipated my day of work as much as today. Today will be a special day for myself, for sure, I can feel it constantly looming in the air. I’ve never been this thrilled going to work before… the thrill is similar to that of hunting animals, hunting bears. You never know when they’re going to suddenly emerge, but, once they appear, it becomes thrilling. Not scary, but thrilling. The thrill of hunting. Nights such as these, shrouded in darkness, are tailor-made for the pursuit of elusive prey. The very essence of hunting down creatures in the dawn is a…

The following that was published is half of a now deleted internet group chat from the social media application known as Discord. Here, many users begin discussing a popular children’s restaurant that has been shut down for approximately almost 40 years, that being “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.” The reasoning for the group chat’s deletion from the internet is still unknown, but we’ve managed to uncover many of the messages that have been sent thanks to some notepads given by a user that wishes to remain anonymous. FFike (3/10/2024) 5:46 PM I’ve recently heard from a pawn shop owner about some old, vintage pizzeria restaurant chain that was known as “Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza”…I got interested. VERY. What was that all about? DYLANW…

Ruby, crimson, scarlet. The colour of fire, of passion, of pain. Red. How I love it. It was beautiful. The boldness, the warmth of the colour stirred something deep inside me. It whispered to the very core of my being. Dark, seductive. Velvet promises of unrivalled pain and pleasure. It made me feel alive, but it was so rarely found pure and untouched. Red. Its essence, I could only behold it in fleeting glimpses. It always vanished before I could really appreciate that loveliness. Blossoms wilted, makeup faded, and the garments of passers-by were never the right shade. I hungered for something deeper, richer than those glimpses of beauty. It was then that something occurred to me… the colour of…

I remember that night all too vividly, as if the memories were etched into my very soul. It was a cold, moonless evening, the kind that sends shivers down your spine and makes you wish for the warmth and safety of home. But little did I know that home would offer no sanctuary from the horrors that awaited me. We were gathered around the campfire, a group of friends seeking refuge from the darkness that enveloped the forest like a shroud. The flames danced and flickered, casting eerie shadows upon the trees that loomed ominously in the distance. It was then that I first heard it, a faint rustling in the underbrush that sent a chill down my spine. At…

I prefer not to speak about the days I worked for Coca-Cola. However, I feel it is my duty to reveal the sick secrets of this wicked corporation. They were willing to torment people, use them as puppets, torture them, and even take their lives, just to assure their business stayed on top. Not too many years ago, I would say around 2009, I was gaining acclaim for the diligence and impressive skill I displayed. The manager of our Coca-Cola sector promoted me to oversee the newest project they were testing. It was called Hyper-Cola. Energy drinks were rising in popularity, and Coca-Cola had no product to compete in this field. Hyper-Cola was planned to alter just that. I had…