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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.…


When I was young, I was always told the sounds I heard at night where made up. “It’s just a figment of your imagination” my Father would always tell me. But every night, as I layed tiredly on my stomach, covered from head to toe in blankets, I could have sworn I heard what almost sounded like someone tapping their fingernails across the floor of the attic above my bedroom. Whenever I heard it, (usually around the first night of every month) it would begin ever so quietly. It’d always start out with just a few taps, repeating themselves for hours some nights, and only seconds on others. That was usually enough for me to start jumping into my parent’s bed those nights. But, as I got older, my parents would start locking their bedroom door, insistent upon the belief that my imagination was just getting the better of me. But I knew something wasn’t right.
I usually would try to sneak out of my bedroom those nights. I’d wait silently under my covers listening until I heard the latch of my parents bedroom shut closed.

Then I’d silently sneak downstairs and sleep on the couch those nights, just to avoid the noises coming from the attic.…

The Lunch Lady

I was always afraid of the lunch lady when I was a kid.  I don’t know why; maybe it was the toxic stench of her breath, or the dead look in her eyes, or the unkempt hairs dangling off her chin.  No matter what the reason was, my palms grew sweaty and my heart pounded every time I passed her in the lunch line.  I never felt quite at ease until I had left the cafeteria, and even then I still was worried I would catch sight of her in the hallway between classes.

One day I got into a fight with another kid named Jeremy, and we both received detention.  It was his fault really.  I had been passing him in the hall when he quickly stuck out his foot in front of mine and sent me sprawling to the ground, all my books flying through the air.  Samantha, the girl I had a crush on, happened to be standing in the hallway when it happened, and she joined everyone else in laughing and pointing at me.  My rage got the best of me, and Jeremy and I were soon throwing punches at each other.  After the teachers broke up our fist fight, we were sent to the principal’s office. …

Positively Writhing

A dream of pale, flesh colored thread.

I blinked back the darkness encompassing my vision, revealing again the dusty room we had been biding our time in. I must’ve fallen asleep, and the Sun was now dead, the window revealing night blanketed over the countryside. The moonlight casted shadows of corpses of forests and dead verdure, the sheets of snow reflecting the light with a strange sheen.

The musty scent of moth-eaten chairs and aging wood was dry in my lungs as I inhaled it, causing me to sneeze. The noise was loud, echoing throughout the spacious living room, and the interruption reminded me of the silence of the place, a midnight graveyard filled with the absence of life. I got up off the wooden chair, scratching my freshly dyed blonde hair, and went over to my bag. I pulled out my vial of klonapin, and I could feel the dismay etch into my face as I realized it was empty. I subconsciously began picking the scab on my wrist at the thought, peeling it off before I realized I had even done it.

Fuck. Fuck, what was I going to do? The last dose was probably flushed out of my system by now, what if something happened?…

In the Mirror – The Story of Ludovic Caesar

Nobody who ever met Ludovic Caesar could honestly say that he didn’t strike them as a reasonable and polite young man. He was strangely intelligent for his twenty three years, and there was something about the way he spoke that drew people to him. He pondered his choice of words carefully before speaking them, and when he did, they were beautiful and fluid, like poetry. Ludovic Caesar was a man who mostly declined the company of other beings, a man who was more content with his work then with his social life. He was rather ordinary to look at, at least at first, with his slicked back hair and his hazel eyes, but when you looked deeper into these supposedly ordinary features, you would see the frostiness in his smile, the cruel line of his mouth and the sinister glitter in his dark, shadowed eyes.
The people who looked past his charming politeness were troubled by what they saw. Ludovic Caesar seemed to have a different identity hidden behind his smile. This… hidden identity was disturbing, dangerous, like a snake biding its time before it strikes. There was whispered conversation between these few people that Ludovic Caesar was not normal, was not like them.…

To My Sister Becky

Dear Becky,

It pains me to say that, by the time you read this, I’ll have been long gone. Don’t worry about me — just know that my death was instantaneous and painless. My only regret is that I have so irresponsibly left you alone, without someone to provide for you when you need it most. I have gathered quite a lot of money, and there’s also the house, both of which are now yours. They will keep your dialysis going for a long while and should be more than enough to cover the surgery, if a suitable donor is found in the following years.

I suppose the only thing I won’t be able to do is be there for you, to hold your hand, chat with you and just be your friend when you need one. Believe me, I treasured the times that we had together, I really did, and if there was any other way to escape the hell I’m trapped in, I would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.

Becky, the last week has been excruciatingly painful for me. I’ve been shaking all over, my hair has been falling off, sleep is almost out of the question entirely, and it seems to be getting worse.…

The Face of Fear

Twice I saw the face in the window, pressed up against the surface, its icy breath fogging the cold glass. At first it appeared strange to me, the skin beneath its eyes drooping in ripples of flesh, exposing the red sensitive strata underneath.

It was the winter of ‘83, and I had booked the cabin for three nights – only three. A break was needed, somewhere to relax, somewhere to recover. I’d had a heart attack two months earlier; a painful, excruciating experience which I would not wish on my worst enemy. Lying there sprawled across my kitchen floor, the sharp agony had syphoned through my veins – chest – arm – jaw. I lost consciousness only to find myself in a hospital bed days later. It was my daughter, Jen, who discovered me. Thank God for her.

The cabin was to be a retreat, a place far removed from the stresses of my life; the fallout from a failed marriage, the pressures of a flagging career, and the ordeal of staring death in the face. Comfort had become a stranger. Fear, however, was now both my enemy and constant companion. Each beat of my heart was felt, the slightest change of rhythm or palpitation a nursery for terror.…

The Devil’s Cosmonaut

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.…

Something’s Lurking in the Snow

It was a cold winter night in a very very remote town, out in the middle of nowhere. A debate team from a larger city had driven out that morning and had done very well, not finishing until around midnight. When the bus finally set off, it was around 12:45. As students filed onto the bus to go home, the driver turned on the strobe on top of the bus, so if they got in a wreck or anything they could easily be seen.

One boy in particular decided he wasn’t tired, and just stared out the window as they began their drive home. The sounds of his teammates drifting into sleep surrounded him as he stared out the window, forehead against the icy pane of glass. Flurries of snow drifted in and out of his vision, joining the white mass on the ground. They passed small patches of forest followed by endless fields and even more forest. He noticed that every time the lights flashed, he would see images. Creations of his imagination, like when someone dims the lights, seeing faces in the shadows. These images became increasingly frightening, especially as they entered wooded areas.

After a while, he decided he should probably sleep, and lay his head back against the seat.…

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