It was a cold and cloudy day in October, two days before Halloween. There was a kid called Ben, who lived on the edge of the woods. One day, he was playing in his backyard with his dog, which was fairly large, and intimidating. Despite its size and looks, the dog was very sweet and never barked or growled at anything. Ben would play with his dog everyday, and never went into the woods unless he was with his dad.
This particular day, however, Ben heard footsteps in the woods, crunching loudly on the fallen leaves, and coming closer to the edge. It was already near sundown, so he couldn’t see very well into the trees. He squinted into the dark forest, trying to make out what was making the sound. It couldn’t have been an animal, he only heard two feet, and the animals never came toward the edge of the trees. Ben decided the footsteps he was hearing were from his father, and continued playing with the dog.
Suddenly, he heard his dad’s voice from the woods, calling him to come and help. As Ben walked closer to the trees, with his dog at his side, the voice started sounding off. It was his father’s voice, but it sounded corrupted, but he kept moving toward the voice anyway. His dog started growling, with her attention focused completely on the tree line. Ben patted the dog’s head, and continued walking towards his father’s voice. He called to his dad, asking what he needed help with, but got no response, except that of the voice continuing to call him toward the trees.
Read more “The Thing in the Woods”
I woke up in a cold sweat, my sheets wear messily thrown onto the floor from a fitful sleep. The warm glow of the sun filtered into the room from the open curtained window across from my bed. A glance at the clock on my nightstand told me that it was only a few minutes past 6 AM. I sat up and rubbed the sleep from my eyes.
As I got dressed for the day, I remembered that today was the day I’d be visiting an abandoned house from the holocaust that had helped hide Jewish people from the nazis. My friend Steve had told me about how there was a large group of refugees staying in the attic and crawl spaces between the walls. According to records, when the nazis searched the house they found no one there, but they did find all the possessions of everyone that had been in the house. They found the diaries of children and food left out half eaten. As they read through the diaries, they were slightly amused to find that the children had been hearing strange noises around them, and seeing shadow people during the night. The children said that they were afraid the “monsters” would take them in the night. The soldiers took everything they found and reported the experience to their superiors. A few months after searching the house, every single soldier that had been there either died suddenly, or mysteriously disappeared.
I went downstairs, and was welcomed by the smell of freshly cooked bacon and eggs. I walked into the kitchen to find my girlfriend putting the food onto plates. As she set the plate down, I snuck up behind her and pulled her into a bear hug. She let out a small shriek, then turned around and hit me playfully in the arm. I gave her a quick kiss and grabbed a plate. I ate quickly so that I could meet Steve sooner and we could get on the road.
Read more “The Abandoned Haunting”
I woke up in the box again. Stuffed inside the darkness, shoved against all the others. The only light came from the small opening near the top of the box, allowing a laser thin beam in a line covering the box’s entire lid like a safety net. I hate it in here, day after day, I have been waking up in the stupid unyielding box and you haven’t even had the decency to tell me why.
It wasn’t always like this though, was it? We use to have such good times. You would take me camping, or out to play in the backyard. I used to wake up snuggled tightly in your bed, the blankets wrapped warmly around us and you would keep me safe. I thought those blissful days would never end. I was happy.
Then, you started to change. I would awaken and I would be somewhere I didn’t recognize. Stranded in the kitchen or dumped off in a hallway. Sometimes, you even left me outside where I was scared and cold! I used to tell myself you were just busy, you had a lot to do. Unlike me, you had responsibilities – school and work and life. All I had to do was to make you happy. I always trusted you, I trusted that you would always come back to me.
Read more “Unused”
Hell found me again. All the fire, brimstone, pain, and hurt came flooding back as soon as the bony hand clamped itself on my wrist. Then I was back in the holding cave waiting for my turn to be tortured and humiliated. It was not the first time. I was not surprised. This was my hell, getting out was not hard, but for eternity I was to be hunted in a world I could never again be part of.
I could hide my rotten appearance for a while, tight gloves over bony fleshless hands, glasses over dead white eyes, loose baggy clothes, but it would not last. Eventually someone would see, and then the chase would be on. Every time they came for me, it was different. Sometimes they looked like me, caricatures of humanity, delicately blending in with people who cared too little to even notice. Other times they would appear as horrors even my imaginative mind could not comprehend.
They loved the chase, letting me think I was getting away, giving me a false sense of hope. Foolishly, I would hold onto it like a life raft. I would cling to the small feeling like a man drowning at sea reaching for anything to keep afloat, no matter how flimsy. I would grasp at the thin straws until the very last moment, the moment I always knew waited at the end of our little game. The end of the line. Then I would be struck down and sent back to hell where I was sentenced to burn with the rest of the suffering souls.
This time would be different, I know all of their tricks. Quietly I slipped out of the dark damp holding cave they threw me in. Stepping over the bloated and decaying bodies of the tortured, I ran as fast as I could through the demons playground. The cries and screams of the less fortunate followed loudly behind me as I tried to push them out of my mind. I climbed up the wall of the broken bodies that crumbled under the horrendous punishment. Trying not to gag as the wounds and gashes they suffered tried to mend under my weight, knowing only more pain and suffering awaited them when they could stand it. Near the top of the pile, I found the small fissure in the heated rock wall.
Read more “This Time Will Be Different”
Fog shrouded the island. Thick white haze, like a large wet blanket, was pulled over the entire chunk of land. He was not afraid, he knew he would eventually be back. Life had to go on, even if he did not. To him it seemed like years since he was on the island, but it did not matter. Time would not move without him, it waited for him to come back. Days, weeks, months, time would hold for as long as it had to. Like a worried father waiting up impatiently at the table for his little girl to come home from her first date. When he stepped back on the island, time would be there to greet him.
He lingered on the shore. Not sure how he arrived here, but not too shocked that he did. Just moments ago, he was twelve years old, getting his first kiss from a small older blonde girl named Melinda behind North High Middle School’s gym. They cut their fourth period class together and holed up in the cafeteria not caring about what they missed in class. Then the cafeteria was gone and he was at his high school graduation party at Disney land, the girl of his dreams was holding his hand and pulling him towards the line for the Doomsday drop. The fear came flooding back as he looked up and saw the current riders plunging quickly towards the ground, he didn’t want to ride but wasn’t willing to let go of her hand. Time seemed to fly by, he bounced from moment to moment. Times and places started to blur together faster than he could register them. He was there when he met his wife for the first time. She was watching a softball game he was playing in for a co-ed work league. He twisted his ankle and she brought him over some ice. He saw the look in her eyes as he struggled to find something to say that would make him seem interesting and nice. Instead, his mind drew a blank and he stuttered and sounded like an idiot, but she smiled anyway and he did not care.
Now he was here again, standing on the shore knowing he was supposed to follow the dirt path that cut its way through the tropical trees and made its way deeper into the heart of the island. He stayed back and watched his small boat come closer to the sandy shore from the much larger research vessel anchored in the sea close by. He saw himself, eyes wide with possibility, a smile of hope, and the sense that just around the corner could lay the discovery of a lifetime.
Read more “Looking Back”
I saw the thing looking back at me from the mirror again today. I cannot explain what it is, and to anybody else it would look like a normal reflection. It looks just like me and acts exactly like a reflection should, but I know it is just trying to trick me. When I wave my arm, it waves. When I move, it copies me, it has my face and my eyes, but it is not my reflection, it is something else and I think it knows I know. Sometimes I can see a look in its eyes when I wake up in the morning. I look up with groggy eyes to see it staring back at me, staring at me with a look of somebody with a secret. It got to the point where I was even afraid to go near the mirror fearing that I might get too close, and be pulled right into that strange place reflections are born, and come face-to-face with the creature that wears my appearance as a disguise. The first time I noticed something was wrong was only a couple of days ago, but since then things have gotten progressively worse.
Like every other Monday, the grooving sound of the oldies woke me up at seven in the morning, about three hours or so earlier than when I would have liked to be woken up. I slowly and angrily smashed my fist down on the alarm until it shut off, and shuffled my way into the bathroom. If I had been awake I might have noticed the difference right away, but instead of looking anywhere else, all my attention was focused on making a beeline to the shower. Knowing I had to be at work at eight, I quickly rinsed off then hopped back out, a little more alive and alert than when I started. Still moving quickly to make up time, I Started up the easy auto-routine I had for shaving. I lathered up, started running the water and prepared to get down to business. Just as I was finishing up, I noticed it. I was looking into the mirror, all closed eyed and half-asleep, and my reflection was looking right back at me, eyes wide open and grinning.
Now I know that it is almost impossible to have a grin on my face that wide, on a Monday morning. This was not a normal grin either. It wasn’t the “I’m happy,” or the, “I just heard something funny,” kind of grin. This was the kind of grin you see on someone’s face right before they pull your chair out from under you, or make you sit on a whoopee cushion. It was the grin of someone who was about to pull the mother of all pranks, and only he is in on the joke. A grin that says, “It’s ok that you know, because there is no way you can stop it.” The look my reflection gave me unnerved me so badly that I left the bathroom without finishing shaving, and hurried out of the house with shaving cream splotches still coating my wet face.
Read more “Reflection”
My eyes shot open, reflexively tightened up and looked towards the door. Its 12:01 am Christmas morning and at any moment the door to the bedroom will burst open and my two beautiful children will run in giggling with presents already in hand. Seconds passed and nothing happened. It took a full minute before I remembered no one would be coming through the door this year. The kid’s accident was only a couple of months ago. I wake up most mornings and for the briefest moment every day, I forget they are gone. I find myself lying in bed, listening for their laughter or cries for breakfast to fill the house, before the pain of losing them hits me as fresh as the day it happened.
It was a car accident that took them away. I was supposed to pick them up after school, but work ran late. I called my daughter Samantha who was thirteen, three years older than her brother Ryan was, and told her, they would have to walk home. It was only a couple of blocks and they have done it plenty of times before, it was not a big deal. Except that day it would be.
She was only a kid, around the age of twenty-five, and did not see them crossing the street. She was probably texting, eating, or doing one of the hundred other things people do while driving other than paying attention. It did not matter what she was doing, she hit both of them and they did not make it. Ryan died right there on the road while the ambulance tried to bring Samantha to the hospital in time to save her life. They were not fast enough and in the span of twenty minutes, my life was destroyed.
Janet, my wife at the time, blamed me. Of course she did. It would not have happened if I had just picked them up as I was supposed to. She made it through the funeral and burials before leaving, and thinking back on it I could not blame her. I can’t stand the sight of myself either, that’s why all the mirrors in the house are shattered, and why the gun I bought last week was already loaded and waiting in the night-stand by the empty bed.
All of these thoughts rushed through my head as I dragged myself out of bed and put my head in my hands. It is the first Christmas I have had to spend alone. The house dark and empty. Last year at this time the kids were awake and already opening the one special present they picked out to start Christmas with. The tree would be lit, casting a festive glow in the living room. The smell of cocoa and coffee would be strong in the air, but it was the laughter and joy that would wake me up the most. As a parent, there is nothing better than seeing your kids excited and happy, and nothing does that more than opening presents on Christmas Day.
Read more “Christmas Day”
So if you have a weak stomach don’t listen to this.
My friend told me this story of his dark web experience. He said he was just messing around on the dark web clicking links, well one of links took him to a video called having fun. In the video there was a man who had a girl no older than 3 tied down. He raped her he cut off her arms and legs with an axe he also did other stuff that my friend didn’t tell me.
I know this story is really short but it stuck with me and still sticks with me to this day.
I thought being buried alive was the most terrifying thing I would ever have to endure in my lifetime, I mean doesn’t this mostly happen in movies and last minute they are always found right? I mean someone HAS to come along right? I can’t die here not like this…..
I filled immediately with joy when I heard the sounds of someone digging me out. Thinking my suffering and pain was finally over i thought to myself I was finally free . However in the dark freezing box my hearing seemed to have heightened…..
It was then that I noticed the digging was coming from beneath me…
I thought buried alive was the most terrifying thing I ever thought I’d have to endure in my lifetime, I mean doesn’t this mostly happen in movies and last minute they are always found right? I mean someone HAS to come along right? I can’t die here not like this…..
I filled immediately with joy when I heard the sounds of someone digging me out. Thinking my suffering and pain was finally over i thought to myself I was finally free . However in the dark freezing box I was in my hearing seemed to have heightened…..
It was then that I noticed the digging was coming from beneath me…