“So tell me Mr. Harold, what ha-..”
“M-Marcus is fine..” The psychologist was interrupted by the shaken man in the seat before him. He was shaking, head pointed towards the floor, staring into space with wide eyes as his clammy sweaty palms were clasped together tightly.
“Ok, Marcus then. Can you tell me what happened on the night of April 23rd, 2014?”
The psychologist finished his sentence and fixed his gaze on Marcus. Studying his body language.
“I… As much as I r-really dont want to.. I-I have to..” He stuttered.
“Talking about it is the only way we can help you get through it.” The therapist stated.
“Please don’t phrase it that way doctor.” Marcus directed his gaze into the eyes of the psychologist as he spoke.
“Oh..uh..” The doc cleared his throat and apologised before prompting him once more to continue.
“I had j-just clocked out at work when my phone rang.. My initial reaction was well.. Who the fuck would be calling me at 2AM? I checked my blackberry and saw my wife was calling from the house phone. Or at least.. That’s what I assumed..” He paused for a moment.
The psychologist looked up from his trance of constant note taking and questioned “is something wrong?”
I must have been six or seven when I lived in Lebanon. The country was ravaged by war at the time, and murders were common and frequent. I remember during a particularly vicious era, when the bombings rarely stopped, I would stay at home sitting in front of my television watching a very, very strange show.
It was a kids’ show that lasted about 30 minutes and contained strange and sinister images. To this day I believe it was a thinly veiled attempt on the part of the media to use scare tactics to keep kids in place, because the moral of every episode revolved around very uptight ideologies: stuff like, “bad kids stay up late,” “bad kids have their hands under the covers when they sleep,” and “bad kids steal food from the fridge at night.”
It was very weird, and in Arabic to top it off. I didn’t understand much of it, but for the most part the images were very graphic and comprehensive. The thing that stuck with me the most, however, was the closing scene. It remained much the same in every episode. The camera would zoom in on an old, rusted, closed door. As it got closer to the door, strange and sometimes even agonizing screams would become more audible.…
Min-Jun awoke, gasping for air as he flailed in the shallow water. His vision blurred by the salt water, he flung himself ashore, and lay face first in the sand. He swabbed away the water from his eyes and attempted to open them. His eyelids fluttered until he finally was able to keep them pried. Min-Jun looked around at his surroundings.
He was on a beach, located on what appeared to be a large, tropical island. Fifty yards up, stood a green, luscious jungle. There was something strange about this jungle. Something odd, that gave Min-Jun an unsettling feeling. It looked like a normal jungle would, only it had an uneasy stillness to it. There were no birds cawing, monkeys howling, or even shuffling in the undergrowth. The jungle sat in utter silence. The entire island was domed under a thick layer of fog. Min-Jun wiped his eyes and looked down the beach, which seemed to stretch on for miles, to see something that had only appeared to him in his nightmares.
Bodies of men and women were strewn about, lying in the wet sand, limp and lifeless. Sailors, fishermen, soldiers, and pilots alike were piled along the coast. Along with the dead, was the wreckage of planes and boats.…
In the United States of America, in the state of Ohio, about forty-five minutes North West of Cincinnati, there is a large, but sparsely populated farming community known as Oregonia. Some of you who have an interest in motorcycles may have heard of it before, as the community is famous for its hills. So famous, it holds the annual “Devils Staircase Hill Climb,” where motorcyclists ride their bikes up a very steep hill hill. It’s a lot more fun than it sounds, and it brings in a lot of money and excitement to what is normally a very boring area.
These hills are steep, and they are many. Within these valleys you will find abandoned houses, mines, caves, and a lot of wild game. Every child who grows up in Oregonia will become familiar with these hills, as they will have nothing better to do than walk them and explore. But as every child in Oregonia knows, these valleys are dangerous. And if there’s something you should never, never do in Oregonia, it isn’t walk the waterfront with a fat wallet, or badmouth Ralph J. Stolle. It’s that you never walk the valleys during a purple sky.
Purple skies mean different things.…
In the United States of America, in the state of Ohio, about forty-five minutes North West of Cincinnati, there is a large, but sparsely populated farming community known as Oregonia. Some of you who have an interest in Motorcycles may have heard of it before, as the community is famous for its hills and holds the annual “Devil’s Staircase Hill Climb”, where motorcyclists ride their bikes up a very steep hill. It’s a lot more fun than it sounds, and it brings in a lot of money and excitement to what is normally a very boring area.
Oregonia is actually a pretty interesting place for being so small and secluded. The guy who invented pop tabs, the thing on top of soda cans that open them, lived there. He was an industrialist by the name of Ralph J. Stolle. There were also a few interesting experiments held at the farm; it was one of the first to try and breed “beefalo”, Cattle/Buffalo hybrids that were supposed to be healthier, reproduce faster, stuff like that. This story is about a similar experiment.
If any of you pass through Oregonia, you can confirm this story with the locals, but you’ll have to the press them somewhat.…
They are here, banging on doors, windows, pipes, walls, vents. They have nowhere else to go, no one else to torture, their only way left to get to me is to torture me slowly, until I cannot wait for death to release me, as I am sure they will do. I have very little time to type this, so let me explain as quickly as possible.
Since I was a kid, around 9 or 10, I was able to hear them. They swarm around the people I care for, and ensure I can’t get too close. Anytime I tried to hug my mother, a noise that sounded like a cross between feedback and a low humming noise would fill my brain and make me want to claw my eyes out. I would screech and sob and pound my head on the wall or table.
At first, my mother thought I had some sort of disorder, or, one that could be diagnosed, at least. I was not fond of my psychiatrist, the name of whom I will omit, so they left him alone. After no one could find anything wrong with me, my mother began to conclude that I hated her because I would cry and screech whenever she came near me.…
Since around 1999, I’ve lived across the street from an old sawmill. It’s sort of assumed that the family who still own and operate the mill have owned the hundred or so acres it sits on since the beginning of time. The owner’s sons, now into their 30’s, have always sort of been “wild” boys. They like old muscle cars, dirt bikes, fireworks, things like that. They even built part of the largely-unused land behind the sawmill proper into a motocross track, just building up the dirt to make ramps, etc. The parties were endless when my family first moved across the street, and while this was bizarre to us, coming from a mundane Southern Ohio background, I totally dove right in. Chris was the youngest of three brothers born to their old-fashioned, religious parents who had been part of the town, once again, since the beginning of time as far as most were concerned, and who didn’t necessarily approve of the craziness, but didn’t have it in them to put a stop to it, or so we thought. Chris was fresh out of the hospital after breaking his back jumping an ATV, and this is when I learned just how far back their family went.…
When Felix Agnus put up the life-sized shrouded bronze statue of a grieving angel, seated on a pedestal, in the Agnus family plot in the Druid Ridge Cemetery, he had no idea what he had started. The statue was a rather eerie figure by day, frozen in a moment of grief and terrible pain. At night, the figure was almost unbelievably creepy; the shroud over its head obscuring the face until you were up close to it. There was a living air about the grieving angel, as if its arms could really reach out and grab you if you weren’t careful.
It didn’t take long for rumors to sweep through the town and surrounding countryside. They said that the statue – nicknamed Black Aggie – was haunted by the spirit of a mistreated wife who lay beneath her feet. The statue’s eyes would glow red at the stroke of midnight, and any living person who returned the statues gaze would instantly be struck blind. Any pregnant woman who passed through her shadow would miscarry. If you sat on her lap at night, the statue would come to life and crush you to death in her dark embrace. If you spoke Black Aggie’s name three times at midnight in front of a dark mirror, the evil angel would appear and pull you down to hell.…
Annabelle was the focus of a case that famed paranormal investigators Ed and Lorraine Warren took part in during the early 1970s, and is highlighted in the book The Demonologist. It has been stated that this is one of the most unusual cases of a possessed object on record.
In 1970, a mother purchased an antique Raggedy Ann Doll from a hobby store. The doll was a present for her daughter Donna on her birthday. Donna, at the time, was a student in college, preparing to graduate with her nursing degree and resided in a tiny apartment with her roommate Angie (a nurse as well).
Pleased with the doll, Donna placed it on her bed as a decoration and didn’t give it a second thought until a few days later. Within that time, both Donna and Angie noticed that there appeared to be something very strange and creepy about the doll. The doll apparently moved on its own, relatively unnoticeable movements at first, like a change in position, but with the passage of time, the movement became more noticeable.
Donna and Angie would come home to find the doll in a completely different room from which they had left it. Sometimes the doll would be found crossed legged on the couch with its arms folded, other times it was found upright, standing on its feet, leaning against a chair in the dining room.…
If you venture deep into the forests of the Appalachian Mountains, you must wear tight-fitting clothes at all times. Make sure that your pant legs are tucked into your socks, and be sure to wear heavy boots. This is very important. Because what many don’t know, is that there is something stocking these mountains. A creature with a voracious appetite, for human flesh. They hide all around you; in bushes, under rocks, or in the branches of tall trees. Their dark eyes leer out from under their camouflage, watching as you progress further from the safety of civilization on your leisurely hike. You may have already seen them. Lots of people do. Most take them for voles, or extra small field mice. A baby chipmunk, perhaps. But these assumptions are all incorrect, and often, fatal guesses. The correct identity for this creature; is the chisel. You may smirk at the name, might even chuckle a bit. Chisel? Seriously? Why such an intimidating name for such a small, and harmless rodent? Well, once you find out, you won’t be laughing anymore.
You see, the chisel isn’t like other dangerous creatures. It’s small, quiet, and unassuming. It has natural predators, such as hawks, foxes, and the occasional hungary house cat.…