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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.…

The Home Run Killer

Have you ever thought of a person that you knew for sure couldn’t be human? That could never die even if you tried everything in your might to stop him. I am not talking about Jeff or Jane The Killer, no. I am talking about someone equally, or possibly, more terrifying than them: Tulo Beloff A.K.A. “The Home Run Killer.”

I guess I should start the story by saying that I am a detective who was investigating the horrific murders committed by Tulo Beloff, or more urbanly known as “The Home Run Killer”, who is still at large to this very day. Tulo reportedly quote on quote “Home-Runned” 22 victims. I am here to tell you what I came up with of the little known history of The Home Run Killer. He is described as a shady man, usually wearing a hoodie or a sweater, with a red bandana covering his mouth. His face is described with the contents of somewhat long black hair, and red eye contacts.

Tulo Iska Beloff was born in a small Romanian town on January 2nd, 1981. At the age of 3, Tulo’s father, Sergei, beat his mother Mikaylia to death with a baseball bat, and was sentenced to hanging.…

The Shadow Girl

“Are you sure the other kids won’t notice?” Conner asked as he looked up to his sister while she smeared the foundation-covered makeup pad over his cheek. The boy winced and pulled slightly away as it came in contact with the ugly, purplish bruise that marred his cheek.

You should be OK.” Madeline replied as she did her best to gently pat the substance onto his skin, trying not to hurt him further in the process. Conner held his breath as she worked and didn’t make another sound. He was strong. They both were. Mainly, because they had to be.

Madeline and Conner Shandon did not have it easy. Their early years consisted of two parents struggling to break away from either a dysfunctional, and often abusive, family or a family that went out of their way to ignore the fact their “little girl” had gone off and married some low-class hoodlum from the wrong side of the tracks. Still, the Shandons did their best to make it work for themselves and their two children. They at least managed to put food on the table and a roof over Madeline and Conner’s heads.

However, that life came to a sudden end as a car crash took the lives of both senior Shandons.…

“I’m Not Braindaddy!”

I’ve never been what you’d call a “gamer”.

Sure, I own a console. It’s outdated by now. I like to play the odd game. But that’s about it.

I’m almost forty. Old enough now that when I was at the height of my “gaming” years, all that really entailed was getting together with friends to play Mario or Castlevania, or Excite Bike, or Punch-Out. Maybe Sonic if a friend had a Genesis, which no one does anymore.

Keeping up with the latest trends in gaming was never interesting to me. I have a lot of interests; reading, watching movies and television, listening to music. But gaming? It was never a hobby. More like a pastime.

Like most pastimes, I don’t really understand when someone makes a lifestyle out of it. Today the gaming scene isn’t aimed at the casual gamer. You get accused of being a “n00b” if you aren’t up to date on everything. It’s almost a religion.

So I leave it alone, and have been content to do so for several years now. For the most part, the gaming world has also left me in peace.

There was one time, however, when the gaming world decided not to leave me in peace.…

Log of Captain Kyle Wright

Log of Captain Kyle Wright
June 15, 2012
Off the island of Banaba, Kiribati, South Pacific

Day 34 of my solo trip in the South Pacific. The Pony is doing nicely; she’s keeping me relatively on track as far as distance and time are concerned. Had a rough time last night, the water was a bitch. I still haven’t gotten used to sleeping with her rocking so much. Overall all systems are go and good. Managed to patch my sail when I was in port, had a local boy mend it up. Couldn’t speak a drop of English, but he understood the money quite well. Stocked up on supplies, managed to hit the jackpot on some fresh fruit. I was down to Vienna sausages and stale bread, but I think I’ve got enough to last me ‘till next port. Haven’t decided which way to go yet, north to Tarawa or keep heading east to Christmas. Either way I’m in for a ride. This solo stuff is a workout. But I’m toning up and honestly it’s not the physical part that is the hardest. The loneliness is really kicking in now. I miss watching T.V. I miss eating cheeseburgers. I miss my wife.…

Redgrowth’s Campfire Story

Hello readers. I’m writing this because a few hours ago I woke up from a nightmare and there’s this… Really weird coincidence, but I’ll get to that in a minute. The dream was about this story I read in, I think, 2001 or maybe 2002 I can’t quite remember, on a forum I used to go to called bourftforums.net, which was a forum built around this Norwegian indie band called Bourft. Their songs were okay, but I hardly ever listened to them. I only went there because my older sister did, and I stayed because the forum itself was full of awesome people. Sadly the forum no longer exists, and I can’t find any sites that have archived it. I met most of my current friendgroup there, so it was a really big deal to me when it shut down. Anyway, I’m kinda getting off track, so back to the story.

There was this thread entitled “Campfire Stories,” where we would post whatever spooky little stories we knew. It was mostly just silly little stuff like hookhanded hitchhikers and bloody mary. One day there was a new post in the thread by this guy (or gal?) who’s username was Redgrowth. This was their first post, here in this thread, and damn did it creep me out.…

Four Hours It Stared

For me, life was a whirlwind of lights and smoke, music and men. I lived in a beaten up shanty close to North Edsa, crammed in a closet-like room with a bunch of other woman. We slept on mats on the dirt floor and shared the space with mange-infested dogs, flea-bitten cats and cockroaches. My wardrobe consisted mostly of skimpy skirts, tank tops and the cheapest high heels you can buy in Quiapo.

After a hard night at the bars of dancing and exposing myself, sometimes spending time in a back room with a heavily drunk man and my eyes like a dead fish staring at the ceiling, I earned enough cash to go to the thrift shop. The weather in Manila had become chilly at night, and I needed a sweater.

I took a walk down a few streets that smelled of garbage and human urine mixed with the smog from jeepneys, tricycles and trucks that never ended. It wasn’t long before I found a street lined with second-hand clothes, undoubtedly from American charities but somehow grabbed by greedy merchants looking to make extra pesos.

The sweater was like a pearl in murky waters as it lay neatly on top of a bunch of tattered, motley clothes.…

Digital Immortality

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.…

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.…

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