Kevin awoke and there was no music from his alarm clock radio, only dead air. Lucky for him, the blaring of a car alarm from the street below was loud enough to wake him. He lurched out of bed aware he was running late and hurried into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and was about to step in, when he heard the noise of a cart being pushed across the floor of his apartment floor. With the shower still running and some water dripping onto the bathroom floor, he slowly creaked out of the bathroom and peered into his living room. There was a man wearing pajamas placing his TV in a pull cart. It was his neighbor, Hank.
“Hank,” asked Kevin.
Hank looked at him, grabbed his baseball bat sitting next to him on the floor and swung at Kevin’s head. Kevin fell backward into his bathroom door dodging the blow. Hank did not say a word and stalked into the bathroom clutching the bat. Driven by malice, Hank cranked up the bat for a fatal shot to Kevin’s head when he suddenly lost this balance on the slippery bathroom floor and fell on his back.
Terrified, Kevin entered fight or flight mode; Kevin’s brain chose fight.…
You have given me so much joy throughout the years of being in my possession. I have shared all of my memories with you, the good and the bad. I have revealed all of my secrets to you, even the deepest and darkest of them all. You know all of my feelings, thoughts and fantasies. I thank God every single day for you coming into my life. Before your existence I was a very lost young man. I could never find any rest, due to the voices in my head telling me to go act out horrific and heinous acts on women. In fact, the very night I found you I was out taking a midnight walk, I was debating with myself about breaking into a certain young girl’s home. I had seen her in the grocery store earlier that day. She was so beautiful and her smile kept playing over and over in my head. Then right when I was about to finally give in to the idea, something down by the pond caught my eye. It was the letters written across your front. The moonlight caught them in such a way that they began twinkling. It was rather beautiful, as I walked closer I was able to read the still glistening letters… “Diary” I read out loud.…
Emma Smallings, aged 18 years old from Crackington Haven, Cornwall. Emma is around 5ft5 and of a slender build. Emma has long Brunette hair and brown eyes. Last seen on Tuesday, parents reported that Emma was last seen in her own home around 9pm. Caroline Smallings, Emma’s mother, received a text at exactly 12am from Emma, The text said “help” unfortunately we are unable to trace where it was sent from. As soon as Caroline received the text, she checked her daughters room, only to find her blog page open on her computer.
No photos have been released but these mysterious blog posts have been . It seems Emma was being stalked. If anyone has any information, contact the police immediately.
Below we have attached the blog posts. All other people involved also went missing about a week ago, suspicions that Emma may have gone to find them.
Please contact us with any information you may have.
Hey everyone! My name is Emma.
I thought I’d set up a blog as I’m in the process of moving, and I’ve been researching the place. I’m moving to “Crackington Haven” somewhere in Cornwall. I’ve lived in London my whole life, I don’t particularly want to move to some beach-side middle-of-nowhere shit-hole, But I have no choice.…
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.
Though many of his notes remain in the possession of the Russian security forces, and many more were wiped from his hard drives or burned in the oil drums behind his lonely research station, enough remains to piece together a little of this man’s life, and the thought process which led to what some consider the finest (and most unknown) scientific achievement of this generation, and what others claim to be the greatest abomination that the thinking world has inflicted upon man since the atom bomb. He called his magnum opus ‘Project Veelox’.
We know, for example, that Khaimov’s obsession with immortality may have begun at a young age. When he was five years old, his parents were involved in a terrible road accident near the border of the Autonomous Jewish Oblast. The collision left both comatose – a condition which surviving medical notes assumed would result in their deaths within a month. Instead, both lingered on the edge of life for ten years.…
I launched myself for the radio receiver, and jerked up the mouthpiece. I wiped away the film of sweat from my forehead before replying.
“Receiving.” My throat was tight with a lump the size of a golf ball.
“It’s good to hear your voice comrade.”
“You too. How are you doing?” Leaning towards the porthole, I stared out into the cold void, hoping to catch some glimpse of the Soyuz capsule somewhere out in the twinkling stars.
“All systems great. Amazing view of the Pacific right now.”
“Have you managed to reach ground control yet?”
“Comms are still down because of the solar flares, I guess. Should be back up in a couple of hours.”
“I hope so.” The lump in my throat was getting bigger, pressing against the wall of my windpipe. I swallowed, trying to make room for my next words. “I get worried up here on my own.”
“Only seven days to go now Boris, I’m sure you can last that long. I’ll see you then.”
“I can’t wait until you get here. Talk to you soon.” I put down the mouthpiece, and turned back to the porthole, pressing my eyes into the great blackness, to the divine curve of the Earth’s glowing horizon.…
What actually happens when we die? It’s crazy to think that there is something else, and the biggest reason for that is…can you imagine your own mind being a totally different person? Is it scary to think that your mind, or your soul, could end up transplanted in a new body, with a new name, new life, but it’s still you? Even moreso, continuing in a new life like this, and still being you, but losing all of your memories, your experiences? In that way, I guess it may not be a big deal to some, because if you have nothing, no point of reference, when you start over, what does it matter? Nobody knows that for sure, because past life recollections are a very real thing, and they are almost always accurate, as accurate as a memory that you or I, the living, would have. I’ve had them, and you probably have, too. Odd knowledges and impulses about things that you, in this body and life, have never experienced.
In short, souls are a pretty unique thing. I’m going to tell you a story about Ohio, so you can understand how it is that I know what I know.
I’m not proud of it, but my dad’s side of the family has always been extremely religious.…
“‘Tis midnight, let us hit this,” He said, after procuring the previously mentioned drugs. Wielding the ever-convenient Ziplock bag, he started to make his way into the room, abruptly falling down without the slightest grace as his already-altered motor skills abandoned his legs. He hit the floor rather loudly.
“That’s that bad karma creeping up,” He always said when something bad happened. I wondered how someone could accrue so many minute negative crimes from past lives. He sat down in a slightly awkward fashion, feeling the small white capsules between his fingers. I began to get the strangest feeling of déjà vu, like I’d already done this, but I dismissed this as the familiarity of all the preludes to massive trips I’d had here.
“Hey, what prescription are those glasses?” I asked, noticing he had put on a ridiculous pair of glasses, thick, black, and all together obnoxious.
“Uh, they’re just plastic,” He said, puzzled by such an irrelevant question. The corners of my mouth rose slightly, concealment easing.
“Well that explains why you can’t see what a dirty hipster you are!” At this, I make a loud, forced laugh, maintained it for a few seconds, and then slapped my knee a few times.…
I sat down with my bowl of popcorn, drenched in butter, just the way I liked it. I picked up the TV remote and flipped throught the channels. It was the same old stuff as always, advertising for the newest toys, or soap operas about Italian families who never get along. I stopped at the news channel.
“There have been reports of an escape from the Rockfield Prison. A man, who murdered 37 people, including three police officers, was reported missing from the prison today. He was last seen by inmates yesterday night at around 9:40. It is still uncertain if he escaped, or if he’s been killed and hidden by enemies in the prison, although another guard was found dead this morning near his cell.”
I got up from my chair and walked to the kitchen. It had been months since I last had popcorn. I had forgotten how much butter to put in. Hadn’t put enough. I put it down because I had a sudden urge to pee. After using the restroom, I walked outside and got in the police cruiser. I roamed around the neighborhood until I found a house with no cars, but lights inside.
I parked the car on the road and got out.…
Out in the Arizona desert, there was a child who has never seen a human face, nor heard a human voice. She resided not on the surface, but beneath it, contained within a bunker. The reason for her situation all came down to a singular issue.
The Existence of God.
One thing that is universally agreed upon by all faiths is that we are all born with an inherent awareness of God. The aim of this project was to demonstrate this by having a young girl, whom had never had any contact of any kind , formulate a concept of God separate from the rest of the world.
The project started innocently enough, with good intentions. Representatives from all the major faiths were present to witness the first potential proof of God. The child was a test-tube baby, screened for all potential genetic defects, and chosen specifically for the the fact it was average in every fashion. For the first years of her life she was brought up in a stark, sterile environment, with all orderlies around her wearing full-face masks to prevent any familiarity.
Her living space was approximately the size of a small one bedroom flat, with white walls throughout.…
I’m glad you were able to return. Most would have walked away, chuckling to themselves at the notions I shared with you last time. It takes a special kind of obsession to ask questions and return, inquisitive and demanding. Well if you want more answers, this old man is going to need more libation. After all in this world, everything has a price. Including this conversation. I want your full birth name. Last time? That was advertising. You want my story, I want your name. What I intend to do with it is none of your business. Thank You.
Now to your first question, who am I? I apologise that introductions were overshadowed previously. My name is of little consequence. I am a former trader of the market. I have distant memories of being alive during the first civilization, where I traded to all. I was unscrupulous. I would gouge hard and tear the shirts from their backs if I could. I took more than I gave and eventually I was noticed. One evening as I was closing up, I was visited by a blind old woman. She offered to purchase some food, and extended a hand holding currency far greater than the value of what she was buying.…