Here’s your story with proper paragraphing and a few minor grammar fixes: Together, as of today, we would never be apart again. We will always be together… Another night of spooning you, hugging you tight to my body, the warmth of our bodies meeting together is my favorite feeling in the world. I never want to let you go. I slowly close my eyes, that warmth being a constant reminder I’m with you, and I’m safe. But that warmth slowly fades. My eyes open—you’re putting on your clothes and getting ready? I call out in a tired voice, “What are you doing?” You reply in a soft, sweet voice, “I’m getting ready for work, hun.” I look at the clock,…

I am a single mother of three boys who was recently divorced. James, my eldest son, is twelve years old and has just begun secondary school. He is very smart; loves science and wishes to work as a biologist after he graduates from varsity. Without a doubt, I see him pursuing a career in that area. George, my 10-year-old second oldest son, is a creative little prodigy who enjoys painting and modeling clay sculptures. Lastly, Kevin, my 4-year-old son. Kevin is such a sweetheart! Even though he can drive me insane with his silly little questions such as “Why do you tie your shoelaces like that?”, “Why do you tie your hair like that?”, “Why do you like like the…

There are stories that cling to the edges of reality, rumors whispered in bars by old sailors with trembling hands and distant eyes. Stories of ships that drift into the harbor with no crew, no signs of struggle… just eerie silence. But until last week, I thought they were just that… stories. The Nautica appeared in the mist on a quiet Tuesday morning. No distress signals, and no records of departure. A 70-year-old cargo vessel, long thought scrapped just… appeared. It was found adrift off the coast, slowly floating toward the docks with not a soul on board. No crew. No captain. Nothing. Naturally, the news caught my attention. As a freelance journalist, I made a living chasing down stories…

Before my best friend’s wedding, we rented a cabin in South Carolina from a company called Moose Estates. We stayed there a full week with four of our closest buddies who were the rest of the groomsmen. The cabin was situated near Redwood Lake, and a river named Cripple Creek fed into the lake about a half mile from the property. It really was a peaceful place. I remember lying in bed and being able to hear the river babbling along if I listened close enough. There was an eerie calmness that appeared at nightfall, something that you’d never find in the city. It’s probably because there were no other log cabins around for miles. I mean, you could stand…

As a kid growing up in my neighborhood everyone knew about Farmer Fred’s, partly because it was an abandoned farm in the middle of the Pittsburgh suburbs, but largely due to the fact that it was haunted. A farm in my neighborhood was probably commonplace at the turn of the 19th century, but by the time I was a kid we were surrounded by strip malls, fast food restaurants and housing developments. That being said, there was and is still a good deal of green space, and at least one farm, albeit no longer operational. According to local legend, Farmer Fred had come from a long line of dairymen who had called our little patch of western Pennsylvania home. He…

Three years ago, a serial killer terrified my small hometown. He was referred to as the Chase Pond slasher. He was called that because he murdered four people near a pond with that name. Three bodies were found in the forest, and the other was in the pond itself. The terror lasted for six months until he was finally caught. At least, everyone thought the right man was caught. That is until three more people went missing a month ago. All three were last seen around Chase Pond, but there’s been no sign of any of them since. I live in Arkansas and have my entire thirty-one years of life. My town is basically in the middle of nowhere and…

I have never been as happy as I was on my eighth birthday. My mother handed me a heavily wrapped present containing my very first gameboy and a mint Pokémon Gold edition. Since Pokémon Gold was my first glimpse into the series, it was my all-time favourite. Anything from the second generation completely captivated me. After a few years, I became tired of my gameboy and moved up to newer consoles; eventually getting into computer gaming. I found other games that spiked my interest as the Pokémon series had done. As time passed, I had a serious yearning to play Pokémon again. After becoming more familiar with computer gaming over the years, I found out about emulators and ROMs. Pokémon…

I’ll never forget the summer of 1998, or the encounters I shared with my classmates. When I was ten years old, just two weeks into the beginning of the school year, the entire fifth grade was taken on a special week-long camping trip to ‘Camp High Hope’ in Indiana. Being ten years old, the idea of spending a week away from home, without any parents or siblings, just friends and the other kids from school, was one of the coolest experiences you could ever hope for as a child. The bus arrived at the camp after about three hours on the road, and despite the relatively short ride, we were all tired. It was just noon, and we wanted nothing…

“What do you mean, ‘you’re almost there’?” Ralf’s voice was barely audible through the prattle of the nightly downpour. “Past the exit sign.” I leaned closer to the phone holder. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes. 30 at most.” I tried to come up with a quick estimate how long it would take to unload the hodgepodge of furniture and crates from the estate sale, but Ralf cut me off. “It’s Friday, Frank.” A pause, then: “We said Saturday.” Stumped, I just stared at the phone for a moment. “Seriously?” My schedule had been somewhat chaotic lately, and I was more annoyed than surprised that I had mixed things up. “Yes, seriously,” Ralf said through the rain and what sounded…

The nonstop pitter-patter of the cold rain against my bedroom window set the mood. I found myself rubbing my eyes, unable to follow the now swaying lines. My book was a jumbled mess of dyslexic text. I spent another minute trying to decipher the words, but my exhausted state of mind could not put meaning to them. I folded the top right corner of the page and gingerly placed Bram Stoker’s, Dracula, back on the windowsill.   I must’ve dozed off at some point because I found myself dreaming. Eyes. Red eyes the size of saucer plates peered into the depths of my soul. No matter how hard I tried to look away, I could not break the gaze. I felt…

I’ve gotten into some trouble recently, and I need to tell people about it. I need to know if anyone has experienced something like this. I don’t want to be alone in this. I’m really, really scared. Please, bear with me while I explain what happened to me. For the purposes of this, I’m going to remain anonymous, so I don’t complicate my situation further. You’ll find out why in a little bit. I really appreciate you taking your time to hear me out and help me. It all started at school while I was taking a calculus test. The classroom door opened, and a police officer stepped inside. I remember glancing over to him, looking for an excuse to…