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Around The Bend

11:37 AM

“Charlie, I’m detective Schultz. Do you know why you’re here today, son?” The detective gestured towards the unkempt sixteen year old boy, dressed in a loose blue sweatshirt adorning several holes and baggy jeans, his shaggy hair covering his forehead. The boy looked as if he hadn’t bathed in at least a week and the odor all but confirmed it. “Do you have any idea why I brought you in today,” the detective asked again.

Charlie slouched in his chair across from his interrogator, his arms folded at his chest. He stared blankly towards the middle of the table between them. “Is that you’re question? Are you asking if I know why I’m here?”

“Yes, Charlie. I’m curious if you know why you’re sitting in this room, talking with me.” The detective lifted a cup of coffee to his mouth and sipped, then sat it back down and gestured towards a second cup that he slid in front of the boy. Charlie continued to stare blankly and the detective concluded the boy would not talk. “Charlie, do you remember the night of the fifth? What you were doing?”

Charlie grabbed the coffee that was offered to him, but instead of drinking from it, he pushed it back towards the detective.…

BEN Drowned

Post #1 (Sept. 7, 2010)

Okay, /x/, I need your help with this. This is not copypasta, this is a long read, but I feel like my safety or well-being could very well depend on this. This is video game related, specifically Majora’s Mask, and this is the creepiest shit that has ever happened to me in my entire life.

Having said that, I recently moved into my dorm room starting as a Sophomore in college and a friend of mine gave me his old Nintendo 64 to play. I was stoked, to say the least, I could finally play all of those old games of my youth that I hadn’t touched in at least a decade. His Nintendo 64 came with one yellow controller and a rather shoddy copy of Super Smash Brothers, and while beggars can’t be choosers, needless to say it didn’t take long until I became bored of beating up LVL 9 CPUs.

That weekend I decided to drive around a few neighborhoods about twenty minutes or so off campus, hitting up the local garage sales, hoping to score on some good deals from ignorant parents). I ended up picking up a copy of Pokemon Stadium, Goldeneye (fuck yeah), F-Zero, and two other controllers for two dollars.…

Porcelain’s Fishhooks

The year was 1942, and I was a young Jewish boy who was sent to the concentration camp, Auschwitz. My brother and I were separated from our parents a couple weeks back, and haven’t seen them since. We were attempting to make it across the border to Russia in order to escape the Nazis, but we weren’t fast enough, and they quickly caught up. My brother, Alois, was two years older than me, and went to Auschwitz when we were caught. Unfortunately, he died on the fourth day from too much hard labor.

I was all alone and on the verge of starvation, for I was younger and weaker than everyone else. When we got our small, disgusting portions of food, the greedy would beat me up and take it from me. I eventually learned to take a bowl of slop and run. Run fast and hard, as far as my feet could take me. Then I would hide. Only after the people hunting me down were gone would I start to eat. I would eat all of it in two or three bites, since the food was scarce, but I enjoyed every second of it.

A couple of weeks later, smoke started puffing up from the ovens in which the Nazis would take a large group of Jewish people and burn them until all were dead.…

Fond Memories

It rained over the Rosenberg estate.

A day’s worth of packing luggage into the truck and, soon after it left, the clouds arrived. Inside of the several story house, little life was expressed as it once had. The antique clock ticked away, being the only thing making sound for the last three hours. Günther poured himself another shot of brandy, already finished with the bottle set at the mini bar. There was plenty more where it came from and he intended on finishing every last drop.

Wilfried put out the last bit of his cigarette, grinding it into the ashtray, his previous remainders fashioned into a crooked mess of the day. No matter how many he smoked, his hands still shook at the recent news. The only way he could keep them steady was the urge to occupy himself with his psychology book from school. His eyes went through the words, but none of them stuck in his head. It was as if he was reading ripples in a rainstorm, nothing but chaotic lines with so much going on around them.

Despite being only a few years apart, the two of them couldn’t be any more different. Günther had made himself into a powerhouse though unrelenting training, the scars and bulging veins on his skin showing the effort he has gone through.…


I hate my life. I just made some new friends at this stupid school, and now I have to move again because of my father’s stupid new job. We’re moving to the other side of the country. I just wish we could stay in a town for more than a few months, but no. Every job just gets better and better, so we have to move. I’d been doing some research on the new town we were moving into. I’ll just say that there are some pretty messed up headlines for this place. Most of them about kids going insane, some murders here and there. Nothing shocks me anymore considering some of the places that I’ve been.

When we arrived, I got out of the U-Haul truck, and looked up at the huge mansion-looking house.

“Really? Is a house this big necessary for your ‘needed office space’?” I say in sarcastic tone, looking at the dead grass surrounding this house.

“Jordan, watch your tone!” My mother hisses at me.

“He’s just going through his puberty years.” My dad says, chuckling under his breath.

“Doesn’t matter. He shouldn’t be disrespectful.” My mom says, and I walk into the house carrying my things.…

That Damn Buzzing Sound

For the past few days, I’ve been hearing this intermittent buzzing sound. At first, I thought I’d become used to it and stop hearing it entirely, but to me, it just became more obnoxious over time. It transformed into something akin to a constant, vibrating noise in the back of my head. It was difficult to focus on anything. It became so bad that I had trouble sleeping, and it’s beyond me how my parents never noticed it. You know what they say though. You lose hearing with age, so I wasn’t surprised when they gave me confused looks. Tyler, my neighbor, heard it though, and I was relieved at that. It meant I wasn’t going crazy. He’s actually the one that brought it up when we were in my bedroom playing video games. With him at my side, I became determined to find the source of this noise.

We searched my house first and placed our ears all over the walls. The buzzing sound never seemed to become stronger or weaker, so we went outside. My original thought was that something was wrong with the air conditioning unit. If I was right, it would explain why the sound transferred throughout the entire house.…

An Occurrence in the Rhine Forest

[Author’s note: The historical context of the time period has been altered than what actually happened in history due to the nature of the story being derived from another one of my projects.]

August 19th, 1915
Corp. D.H. Griffin, 3rd Infantry Battalion, US Army

The following testimony is about the occurrences that had happened a week prior as part of the “Thames’s Plan” undertook by the First Rifleman Squad of the 3rd Infantry. The mission objective was to extract a German defector, Col. Hans Dieter von Hendrix, from his family castle behind enemy lines and bring him back to HQ in order to learn of enemy troop movements for the upcoming battle at Strasbourg, on the Rhine. Our detachment consisted of ten riflemen that included myself, a machine gun crew, a captured German armored car, and our CO, Lt. Benjamin Hobbs.

We wore captured uniforms and were armed with German weapons in order to avoid suspicion. On the day of the mission, we went out at dusk around 1900 hours and proceeded to the woods outside our forces’ entrenchment. It was decided to take the long way, in order to avoid being accidentally shot at by our own troops as well allowing for us to sneak behind enemy lines more easily.…

The Eighth Floor

I was staying at a hotel in Chicago Illinois during a business trip and I was going to stay for the whole weekend. It was an older hotel, one that still used small keys rather than keycards to enter the rooms. I didn’t mind, it seemed nice to get away from the onslaught of technology.

When I checked into the hotel it was packed full. A nasty storm had struck, standing many tourists and cancelling flights. No more rooms were available and many people were being turned away because of the lack of vacancy. When I approached the front desk to check in I noticed that all the keys for the rooms on the eighth floor were still on the wall. Not a single key was missing. It seemed odd that an entire floor would be vacant when so many people were all clambering to check in and get to their rooms.

I could see the clerk was stressed out and he was ready to to just give up and go home, so I tried to lighten the mood. “Kind of weird, isn’t it?”

“What is?” The clerk asked.

“How everyone on the eighth floor is missing.”

The clerk gave me an odd look and his face paled.…

I found you

I didn’t imagine it… I’m not fucking insane. My vision may have been distorted as a result of my excessive alcohol consumption, but I know what I saw. I know that it was real, I’ve been sat in a bath full of cold water for the past hour to try and shake the feeling of being covered in blood. Her blood.

– 5 hours earlier –

It must have been about 11pm when I stumbled through my front door. Perhaps ‘stumbled’ is an understatement. I quite literally collapsed from how mentally exhausted I was and all I wanted to do was sleep. It had been exactly 6 months since Hannah went missing and despite my efforts of distracting myself, I knew that it would take more than several vodka shots and the burning sensation that they left in my throat to stop me from thinking about her.

Hannah is my younger sister. She’s an introverted, yet somewhat jittery 16 year old that always looks unsettled – which is why I don’t believe that she ran away. No, she was kidnapped.

The last person that saw Hannah on the night of her disappearance was her friend as she was leaving the party that she was at, until I walked into my kitchen and saw her sitting on the floor tonight.…

The Asylum

My friends and I used to do a lot of geocaching after our senior year in high school. For those who don’t know what geocaching is, it’s essentially a worldwide scavenger hunt. People will select sites and conceal a “geo-cache” somewhere unobtrusive, then post GPS coordinates on geocaching websites where other searchers can download the cords and locate the cache. Usually, people who have found the object (often it’s a chest or something hollow) will leave a note or small personal memento for future searchers to find and appreciate.

There are several types of geocaches, and most of them are thematic in nature (i.e. scenic destinations, romantic sites, hard-to-reach areas, etc..) This story begins when my friends and I decided to try a series of purportedly haunted locales within about an hour’s drive of our hometown. It began innocently enough—most of the sites had “spooky” backstories that were, of course, entirely fabricated. So we had a great time scaring the piss out of each other and generally creeping ourselves out.

We’d begun searching after the sun had set to enhance the creep factor, but by around midnight, most of our large group had dwindled off and gone their separate ways. When we reached our last coord, there was just myself, Rebecca, Kevin, and Evan left, and we were determined to knock it off our list.…

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