This is the story of Kelly Tristan, a 23-year-old woman who lived alone in a small house at 2605 Pine Road in the small town of Fairview, Oregon. Her disappearance had gone largely unnoticed until nearby residents started to go missing without a trace. When the police went to investigate the area, all the homes of the missing people were completely empty, as if no one had lived in them for quite a long time. Here is what happened…
Sunday October 31, 2004
It was Halloween, Kelly’s favorite time of the year. She thought it would be a good idea to decorate her front door with some cheap decorations, to let kids know she was handing out candy. At 12:35 PM, she drove to the local dollar store to buy Halloween candy and decorations. While browsing, she found a shelf full of old VHS tapes. As she looked through them, her eyes fell upon an old copy of Disney’s 1951 classic, Alice in Wonderland.
“Wow! I haven’t seen this movie in a long time,” she said to herself excitedly. Kelly decided to purchase it along with her candy and decorations. When she came back home, it was still too early for trick-or-treaters to be out, so she took some time to prepare her front door.…
It’s been two weeks since this whole thing started.
It all started with a tanker accident. It was all over the news. Everyone thought it was just another oil spill. There were plenty of volunteers – plenty of people wanting to help the poor, defenseless animals. Plenty of victims.
Within hours of the tanker accident, it started happening. The animals had gone crazy; they were scratching and biting the clean-up volunteers. They said that it was an adverse effect to whatever was in that tanker.
Rescue workers were still trying to get the crew out of the ship. They could hear screaming inside. There were screams to open the doors, but that’s when it all went to hell – as soon as they cut the door out.
There were six minutes of broadcast before it went silent – six minutes of screaming and agony. The ship crew attacked the rescue workers like rabid baboons. They were breaking bones and tearing flesh. The people on the shore weren’t fairing any better. Those that had been attacked by animals were attacking everyone else. It was worse than any war zone report; it was sheer brutality, and yet the broadcast still went on for six minutes.…
I live in a house of rules.
I should explain.
I moved here three months ago. Flat number 27. The flat was a repossession. I never met the previous owner, and to date know him only from the post I receive in his name. I could make up stories of him vanishing, or his screams being heard in the darkness one night… I could make exaggerated claims about all of this, but this is not a work of fiction, nor is it written to entertain.
I had just got a new job – a promotion I had waited years for. This was meant to be the next step to greater things, but I needed to move quickly to save on the long drive each day. When I found this place, I was overjoyed. It was well-located, within my price range and, a part from being extremely run down and dirty, had so much potential. It’s a duplex apartment, with a guest room and spare bathroom on the ground floor, and a dressing room and several storage rooms on the top floor.
The purchase was a complicated one – due in part to poor record keeping and the loss of deeds and plans of the house.…
About a month ago, I bought a second Pokémon Red cartridge off eBay so I could start a new game and screw around without messing up my save file. As soon as I compared it to my old one, I knew it was either a bootleg or produced somewhere else. You can see in the picture how the sticker doesn’t fit the front of the cartridge, and the red plastic is cheap and almost see-through (if you look close, you can see the internal battery on the second, while the first can’t be seen through at all). When I started it up, it only had one option – New Game, and unlike the well-loved cartridge I’d been using, it didn’t have any wear marks from being inserted into the GBC or anything indicating it’d been used.
Well, what the hell, I figured. I’d poured plenty of money into the franchise and one bootlegged game wasn’t going to kill me. I popped it into my GBC and started playing.
A couple of weeks ago, I lost my GBC for a while, so I had to play it on my SP. No huge deal, I thought.
When I started the game up, oddly enough, the backlit screen of my SP went out, like I was playing on an old Game Boy Advance or a Color.…
You see, I am a simple college student living alone in an apartment. I was very enthusiastic about the release of Pokémon HeartGold/SoulSilver here in the states. I have purposely locked myself out of all media and the Internet aside for school purposes. That means no 4chan, no /v/, no Bulbapedia, etc.
As I was busy with the school year and being poor at the time, I wasn’t able to buy SoulSilver on its launch date. After my school year ended, I ordered SoulSilver on Amazon. However, it would take a week for it to arrive. I decided that during that time, I would replay my Crystal version on my Gameboy Color.
However, I realized that long ago, my mom threw it away because I told her the save went dead, and I was very upset about it then. She also threw away my Silver version, so all I have is my Gameboy Color. As such, I set out to Gamestop and bought a used Silver version, as it’s the only Pokémon game left that they have for the GBC. Ten dollars – fairly cheap.
I went home and started it up for a nostalgia trip. However, that’s where things started getting bizarre, and most likely the reason why you read this.…
“Pardon me, Sir. How much do you want for this?”
“S’free, take it.”
“What? Are you sure? I can pay you f—-“
“I said you can take it! Now get out of here!”
The above was a brief exchange of words between a very edgy young man, possibly in his late twenties, and myself at a yard sale I happened by. I always find the most interesting things at yard sales and flea markets. I’m normally there for books, but I’ll occasionally happen across something else that I find worth my time.
I didn’t find any books this time around; the entire sale seemed to be comprised of children’s toys, clothes for both little boys and little girls, as well as some items I’d expect a young married woman to use. Silken night clothes, stacks of cheesy romance novels that I had no interest in (I can’t read pure romance, I need something like murder or mystery to make it interesting), jewelry, as well as several cases of makeup, most of which appeared to be half used.
I found the used makeup to be in bad taste. If you no longer had a use for it, throw it away. Don’t try to peddle what’s touched your face to other people… it’s disgusting.…
I woke up, cold sweat, with something reminiscent of a bad dream clouding my head. Neck cramps, figures. I shift around a lot in my sleep – move about restlessly for a reason I know not.
Or perhaps I do know, the thought has crossed my mind. But I digress. Here’s a brief recollection of this week. Monday, September 17th , 6:30 AM. Alarm goes off, ringing moderately, ever so slowly reaching a crescendo as my sleepy eyes open up to the world. My wife Eila – I call her Elly – groans and begs that I shut it off. After doing so, I catch a glimpse of divine beauty as her crystal eyes meet mine.
I get up, quickly dress, find myself downstairs. The routine is pretty mundane, but it’s what I’m attuned to. I eat breakfast, brush my teeth, drive to work. The usual. My career involves business meetings and office cubicles, you see… I’m a software engineer, best of my kind around these parts. At the front door to the BZ Tech Inc. Office building, my boss, Kyle Lacey, greets me with the information of what needs to be done for the week. He gives me a genuine, welcoming smile and off I go.…
If ever you should walk into a dark room inside your empty house and see a shadowy figure somewhere within, don’t turn on the lights. It’s better not to know. Don’t run to the bathroom, lock the door, and cower in your bathtub. Don’t hurry to a closet, lock the door, and hide underneath a pile of clothes. And especially don’t return to your bedroom, lock the door, and crawl into your bed. Because every other door in your house was already locked, and the figure still managed to get in.…
It was the 2nd of January, 2:04 AM. I woke up to a knocking on the door. One knock every 3 seconds. I slipped on my slippers and walked down the stairs. As I walked down, the knocking on the door got faster, almost like a heartbeat. When I got to the door, the knocking stopped, I looked outside and nobody was there.
I went back up to my room and went back to bed, thinking it was just some kids playing a prank. At 4:21 AM I woke up to the front door slamming shut. I jumped, terrified. I looked over at my frosted window to find “smile” written all over it in the frost. I grabbed my phone next to me, ready to call 911, only to find a message written on it saying “I told you to smile”. I cried and ran for my life running outside.
As soon as I got outside I knocked on my neighbors house across the road. They answered and held me while I sobbed. They phoned the police. At exactly 5:42, the police came to my neighbors house after an extensive search of my house. They told me there had been no evidence at all of anyone in my house other than me.…
In a small town like Woodsburrow, a mall opening up is a big thing. The whole town generally gets in on the whole ordeal and rumors of all kinds begin to spread about the building both good and bad and the new owner is usually the main target of these rumors more often than none. This time was no exception especially when the owner was a tall crooked kind of man with greying skin that hung loosely from a boney frame. The most striking feature however, were the man’s yellow eyes that seemed to gleam in greedy luster whenever anyone made a purchase. Many of the neighborhood boys took to calling him a monster man, and Jerry Tanner was one such kid.
He knew something was up with that old geezer, and he was determined to figure out exactly what and prove it to the rest of the town. Armed with only his mother’s expensive Kodak he strolled lively through the large glass doors as if he were simply another patron longing for a simple look over the wares this new placed possessed. The boy seemed to pull it off well too, because not one person seemed too curious as to why he was there.…