I live in a small village in the Western Countryside of England though I better not tell you which, for your own safety above all else. A lot of this won’t make sense at first but bare with me, theres a lot I need to say. Let me just start from the beginning.
My village has a population of 178 people at the time of writing this, the oldest being my grandfather. Now he isn’t just well known around the village because of that, he is also the only living person in the village alive when ‘Fantasmo’s Funland’ was still open. ‘Fantasmo’s Funland’ was a Carnival open between 1956-59. The reason the Carnival closed after only 3 years of service was because one day in June of ’59 Fantasmo got up and left, without warning, well according to my Grandfather anyway. My grandfather was six at the time, the first and last time he went to that Carnival. His mother had terminal cancer and only had mere months to live, while his father was lost at sea when he was just mere months old. His mother wanted make every last second with her son a memorable one, so she took him to ‘Fantasmo’s Funland’.…
The cops had everything about the kidnapping of Joey wrong. Their prime suspect, Scooter the Clown was a well known children’s entertainer in town. He performed at parties, like Joey’s all the time.
At the precinct I am an insignificant ant flailing for the attention of titans. Finally, a cop turns to me and says, “Are you lost little boy?” On cue, my silence held no longer.
“The balloons with the ransom note, they were filled with helium right?” I asked. “Scooter never had a helium tank there that day. He blew everything up by hand. Check his truck and you will see I am telling the truth.”
The officer smiled and left, only to return 10 minutes later ghost stricken. He got down on his knees and rattled “I don’t know how we missed that kid, but you just did that clown a service. ”
I beamed as I walked home, knowing my hero was safe not ever dreaming he would thank me in person. When I saw him a block from home my jaw dropped.
“Someone’s been a good little detective. I have a special badge for you,” Scooter said.
He reached into his pocket, grabbed a balloon in the shape of a badge and then blew it up in front of me.…
Thoughts of Thai food from the place around the corner cluttered my concentration as lunchtime crept ever closer. No one makes hotel reservations in December. By now, virtually all rooms were booked and the best rates were a Summer memory. Still, there is always a chance for a last minute booking so I waited, at the ready, for anything resembling a call.
Two clear tones signaled an incoming call. I glance at the clock. “Of course, just before I clocked out,” I thought to myself.
Putting on my dressiest phone voice I responded to the call. “Thank you for calling the reservation center, this afternoon. How may I help you?”
“I’m at the front desk of the Towers and they say our reservation has a problem” the woman explained, with a hint of desperation.
Forgetting about the proximity of lunch, I lept into action. “I’m terribly sorry about the issue. Please tell me your name and the location you booked a stay at.”
“I’m Sandra Henshaw and I’m staying at The Bainbridge Towers and Resort,” She replied.
Unsure of the location, I did a quick search in the computer. “Are you sure that the location you are staying at is one of our hotels?…
The late 1980’s were a time in my life I normally don’t care to remember. My mother and I had moved away from my grandparents’ house. Theirs was the only home I knew. Mother had a bad habit of making poor decisions in men, and so for a while we bounced around from place to place. I even recall being at one school only for a week before we were on the lam once again.
We ended up in San Antonio, TX. Finally, we settled into our very first apartment. It was good to have a place of our own for a change. In time, however, Mother found a new scumbag and he moved in.
Gene was a former Army Ranger who had been a civilian for about two and a half years at the time. He was very muscular, with long black hair and long sideburns. You could compare him to Glenn Danzig. Gene began to boss me around, trying to play “Father”. He felt I needed some discipline and began to beat me. When it got worse and he began to choke me and throw me around the room for not taking out the trash and other minor offenses, I spent as much time away from home as possible.…
Lytle, Texas – August
The chanting had stopped, and with that, Joey and Jason looked at each other, afraid of what they might face in the seconds ahead. Was she still alive? Yet their resolve had won the battle of the what-ifs earlier that day. It was a rare occasion when Jason considered the well-being of anyone else. His humanity was showing like a big red pimple on a nose, disgusting him. He also felt the need to be there for his best friend Joey. He wasn’t going to allow him to go in and rescue this weird chick all alone. He had to help. Joey would do the same for him.
With their suspicions confirmed the day before they hid in silence behind the aging trash cans in the yard. The stench was enough to make them wince and cover their mouths and noses with the front of their t-shirts. Their breathing had grown shallow and their hearts raced in anticipation. There was no turning back now. Sarah needed rescuing. She had to be freed from the hell she likely faced her entire life. THEY would be her knights in shining armor. At least, Joey thought so. This fair-haired girl had somehow struck a cord in their adolescent minds, though she seemed a bit off when their curiosity got the better of them just three days ago.…
It would seem that all cities, even small towns, have their own ghost stories and urban legends. Living in Devine, Texas for 5 years, I always heard about the Salt and Pepper lady of the Devine Projects. Friends would speak of their experiences with this very strange and disturbing specter. If you grew up in the Devine Projects, your parents wouldn’t allow you to be outside whatsoever after dark, which was less due to the gangs and drug problem and more out of fear of the Salt and Pepper lady.
There were the usual problems as with every low income residential slum. Gangs, drugs, domestic violence, pedophiles. It wasn’t the worst of all the projects but crime was still present. Local police were there often for the usual reasons you would expect from a housing project. Raids, domestic violence calls, even the occasional murder.
Somewhere in the ball park of about 30 years ago, there lived an elderly resident of the Devine projects known simply as Mona. She was a bitter, nasty, mentally unstable and disturbed lady. Most of all, she was lonely. Nobody could ever recall family or friends ever stopping by to visit her, so it was assumed that she was all alone in this world.…
“Bobby! Pay attention!” he heard his teacher say. He snapped out of his reverie and looked up to see her glaring at him. “Did you hear anything I’ve been saying?” she continued.
Bobby shrugged his shoulders. Prior to being disrupted, he was daydreaming that he could freeze time, and before that he was imagining himself navigating the classroom if he was only 5 inches tall.
The teacher continued to rant at him, just as they all did, then she placed him on detention Friday night after school.
Why is it that schools are so intent on crushing a child’s imagination? What is it about creative kids that piss so many teachers off? They punished him for sketching or writing stories in class. They punished him whenever he slipped into a daydream. His artwork wasn’t the right style for his art teacher; his music was too modern for his music teacher, and he was even forbidden from using mnemonic techniques to revise for exams. Whenever he strayed from their formula and their methods, he was punished and told he would never amount to anything.
At the end of the school day the kids rushed towards the gates, saying goodbye to all their friends and classmates.…
It has been six weeks since my first sighting of the wicked old hag. I woke up in the middle of the night and went to roll over, but my entire body was paralysed. I lay there, scared and helpless, contemplating my predicament when I became aware of a presence in the room with me…a presence that I can only describe as pure evil.
I caught sight of a withered old woman at the foot of the bed. Her tall hunched frame was draped in a long dirty gown and wisps of filthy white hair hung from a balding scalp. I channelled all my energy into a desperate attempt to move, but my efforts were in vain. It felt as though I was being pinned to the bed by an invisible force. I tried scream out for help, but my words came out as jumbled whimpers. I could feel her claw-like hands on my legs and my arms as she crawled her way up my rigid body. A crooked smile revealed rotten teeth and her bloodshot eyes were callous and calculating as she stared directly at me.
Suddenly, I bolted upright in bed. I could move again and the room around me was empty.…
Hello. My name is Alex. To describe my life first and foremost, it sucks. Today on my terrible job as a demolition inspector, I get to go out and examine this old apartment complex (Birchwood) that has been abandoned for a year or two. You can imagine how fun that is. I wake up around noon in an apartment of my own. I start off my day waking up to this annoying old alarm clock. BEEP BEEP BEEP. I then go the door of my small bedroom. My room has a computer desk in the corner, and the walls are an ugly tan color. My computer screen flashes, alerting me that I have an email. It’s from a restricted address that I don’t know, and it says “DEAD BEFORE DAWN”. Probably a group of kids prank mailing me.
I go downstairs, have a quick brunch of cereal and toast, and leave the apartment complex. I get in my SUV (a CRV) and start the half an hour drive to work to meet the only decent human being I know. It’s my work partner, Zach. He is around 23, and is kind to everyone he meets. He is short, has brown eyes, and dirty blond hair.…
Everyone knows Chuck E. Cheese, but have you heard of Rat Aleister’s? Not many people have, and for good reason. It gained a bit of a cult following online a couple months ago, where people had more fun speculating and sharing rumors than actually taking any sort of action against it.
Located at the corner of some lonely street in Virginia City, Nevada, you would find a billboard with the name of the fabled location. It looked about as run down on the outside as everything else around it, so you wouldn’t immediately pin it as a children’s place. The windows were made so that you could hardly see anything inside apart from a bunch of blurred colors moving about.
Once you pull into the small parking space made for one, you’ll enter the dimly lit canopy and be greeted by the employees in blue, followed by Rat Aleister himself… They occasionally referred to him as Ally, but the internet community liked to call him Ratty since it seemed a better fit. Ratty was a bit unnerving to be around, partially due to how he looked. His head sported a passing resemblance to the original Chuck E. suit, minus the hat, with that blank stare and open mouth smile of his.…