@@font-size:2.5em;Pulling the pillow off of my head, I look around and spot my phone. What would I even say anyway? I wanted desperately to call Jayson, [[but how could I call him when my fingers were coated in my own sticky blood?]]@@

I’ve always [[loved|when i was younger]] cemeteries.

She extends her [[hand]] to you.

She always wore a @@font-size:2em;beautiful silk red [email protected] @, tied tightly against her neck in the style of @@font-size:1.5em;Victorian-era [email protected] @.



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Still, I didn’t think anything of it for a long while. I got really into ear cuffs, and wore one every day. Maybe the @@font-size:1.5em;red [email protected] @ was just my aunt’s thing, ya know?



But the more time we spent together, the more it grated on my mind, like it was mocking me. She even had it on as soon as she was out of the shower. It stayed on when we spent nights with glasses of wine or bottles of beer in the hot tub. Just a [[@@font-size:1.5em;thick red [email protected] @, like a gaping mouth on her neck.|neck]]

Despite tomorrow's major science test, you're here at the party knocking back your third whiskey and laughing with Richard. Richard invited you to this celebration of his football team's big win. How could you say no? Richard is always a good time and he's easy on the eyes. You're quite proud of your clever plan to have it both ways -- attend the party and be prepared for the science test.



[[Back to your room]]

//Because once I was whole, and then I was made half, and I knew that I would never be whole again.//



The raven pauses and considers the piece of you in its mouth. Then it continues to eat.



"Then I don't suppose you'll mind if I [[dine]]."

A group of young women, standing close together and chattering, pass before you. One of them looks up, sees you, pulls a loathesome face, makes a sound. The rest look up and parrot the first girl.



"Okay, that is seriously sick," says the first girl.



"It's so [[ugly]]," says a second.

Only they never did; months passed without a trace of the Figure. That'd be fine if the Cadillac's glory days hadn't went with them. Any time Big Charles & crew put on an exhibition for customers, something would go [[wrong]].



As you can imagine, word spread about these mishaps. People'd been gossiping for years that Charles was getting old. If he couldn't maintain his prized vehicle, who knows how the other cars worked? His markups were ridiculous as is! Who wants to deal with the '[[hard sell]]' nonsense these days?

Once they were there with the small fire going though, when the beer was cold, and the weed had come out, Alex was a lot more relaxed, talking about her aunt's shop and getting a bit closer to Justin-he could not stop staring at her, with that beautiful long dark hair, full brown eyes, and one of the best smiles he had ever seen. She was the type of girl he had dreamed about being with again while he lied in his bunk in the prison, never fully asleep due to the fear. The few moments of sleep he would get were dominated by dark dreams - nightmares didn't feel like the right word for them, too cliché for how terrifying these dreams were. Were these dreams his unconscious punishing him - [[or was something else trying to punish him?]]

My breathing becomes shallow and rapid as shovel-full after shovel-full of dirt falls over me, faster now, sounding slightly more muffled as the mound grows higher. <<timedgoto "i claw" 6.5s>>

We got along great, and quickly became close friends. Shared secrets, confessed deep-seated anxieties about our futures, and fretted over calorie counts and the lead level in canned tuna. She gave me her old shoes that were from the 80s and were now vintage-cool, and I lent her books after books I accumulated from my Master’s in Canadian literature.



<<timedreplace 10s>> <<becomes>>There was one thing [[I didn’t know about my aunt, though.|one thing]]<<endtimedreplace>>

"Do I look beautiful?" I heard her say. She was close now, inches away. I could smell her breath through that mask and it made me choke.



For the first time that night I understood her.



"Do I look beautiful?" she repeated.



I could almost imagine the rest: "Is there a point, really? Is there a point of any of this? Do you even love me?"



I can't remember. It's been a while.



Although there are things I do remember: like the children going in before sundown and the strings of abductions that seemed to be plaguing the area. I remember those things now. Not sure if it's important.



"Am. I. Beautiful?" Her voice was getting louder, harsher, more grating.



What was the right thing to say here?



[[Yes you are beautiful and I love you|Beautiful]].

[[You're disgusting|Disgusting]].

[[I don't know *say nothing*|Third option]].

There was a moment when I thought about what I did, what lay underneath that mask. There was something growing deep inside me somewhere that felt almost terrible for what I did to that poor, lonely girl. I'll admit that I was selfish in that regard, wanting to fuck her so hard that she smiled.



"Am I beautiful?" she repeated, removing her mask to reveal the slits near the edges of her mouth. I had tried to bring back her smile, the one I missed from all those years ago. Her mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, her black gums melting out from the jagged holes on her cheeks. Her smile, it was there, hidden the optical illusion that was her face.



Her dark brown eyes seemed to glow white, her shadowy body illuminated by the street lights. She would look ethereal if she also wasn't rotting.



"I don't know."



That was the truth. I had no idea. There she was, standing in front of me for the final time, and I had no idea if she was as beautiful as I remembered. Maybe she was. Maybe she was always beautiful but I fucked her up too badly.



Didn't seem fair to give her the truth in this situation. To be honest, there wasn't much I could say here because she was here despite... everything.



"Am I beautiful?"



"I don't know."



She pulled back from me. There was no more damage I could do to her, I thought. Maybe I'd already done the worst I could possibly do.



She went away, and I never saw her again, even though I ached to see her smile still -- still, knowing that her smile was now a scar, a permanent sign that I was more of a monster than I ever thought I could be. Every night, I laid awake waiting for her. She never showed back up.



Slowly the kids started coming out after dark, as if they knew what I had done for them and their extended playtime. Every day I walked home from work, I stopped by that bench and sat down, hoping that she would show up with that outstretched, shaking hand. Maybe one day she will.



[[I deserve that much.|another ghost story]]

The reprieve from the world is beautiful.



<<timedgoto "blank 2" 5s>>

She groaned slightly and her hands went to her head as if she were in pain. “This is why my aunt told me not to drink until I was old enough…”



Fear shot over Justin's face as he reached for his boxers.

“Wait, what do you mean?”



“Didn't you hear me earlier,” Alex said in an almost valley girl accent. “I told you I turn seventeen next week.” She paused. “Oh shit… and you got me drunk so I would have sex with you…. That was not cool.”



“What?” Justin shot up and looked horrified. “[[Wait, wait, Alex…]]”



Alex fell backwards and the back of her head struck the old log with a sickening thud. She yelped and then wheezed as her naked body fell limply. There was blood pooling up on the old wood, barely visible in the darkness, even with the bright moon. [[Justin froze in place, having to process what had happened.]]

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Am I the reason I feel poisoned? Of course. Of course. I'm always the reason. [[Always to blame.]]

But you get yourself out. Without turning into a ghost.



<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>[[Mostly.|another ghost story]]<<endtimedreplace>>

My room is filled with happy things. The walls are a sunny yellow and covered with images of dolphins. I feel at peace for a few moments while I look at them and their smiling, joyful expressions.



Then I hear the front door [[slam]].



“Hey fatty! Watch where you're going. Are you talking to Ching Chang Chong because you're craving some Chinese food?” [[they teased]].

All I could feel was longing. Longing for what? I didn't know. All I knew was that I needed to her have now. In every way possible. I needed to make her mine. [[Completely and utterly mine]].

It made me feel [[safe]].

@@font-size:2.5em;Nobody saw the scars at my stomach, self-inflicted when Harry delivered the final blow to my [email protected] @ @@font-size:1em;The term gaslighting comes from the 1944 film Gaslight. Constantly lower and flicker the lights, make the woman feel she can't trust her mind. Gaslighting, a toxicity you don't even know is happening until it's already too late. Like breathing in carbon monoxide, you don't even know [[you're poisoned until too late.]]@@

Justin's right eye was twitching by this point and she was not giving him a chance to catch her gaze. It was all too overwhelming. He started hearing the sounds that had come to scare him, things moving in the cell when he was trying to sleep, light tapping against the bars, and someone licking their lips. Justin was trying to get hold of himself, but the situation was serious. [[He grabbed at her harder than he meant to]], and when he did, she tripped.

In Justin's mind it was like something out of a bad movie. The dead girl had just risen and spoken to him; then she was gone, then there again, her figure following him. He could hear her in the woods, coming after him. How was she keeping up, why could he not see her? There was a brief moment where he wondered if it was all real, or just his mind continuing his torture, even now, out of prison. The visions were supposed to bother him less now, but he could hear her coming - [[so either they had gotten worse, or the dead girl really was coming after him]].

//No food. No water. [[I have no idea what the end of this plan entails.|proceed2]]//

//Standing up, I felt my way around. Eight steps out I hadn't hit or touched anything. Twelve steps out still nothing. At fifteen I touched cold. Dry, cold, rough. Cinder blocks maybe? Brick. I've never been good at telling the difference. Its all like rock isn't it? Made of rocks. Cement. Rock. It doesn't matter right now anyway. I found a wall. I think. I feel a few steps to my right. And a few steps to my left from point of contact. It's a wall. A slap it, knock on it, solid or at least there is a lot behind it.



Keep searching? [[Yes|Yes2]]/[[No|No2]]//



//Soon I will be hungry.



On the other side of the I found the corner of the room and a shelf. On that shelf was you. My notebook. My companion. It was at least a week before I found anything to write with. An old golf pencil. I chewed it until I tasted the lead. I write in short bursts, when the light visits I put what I can down. It takes forever to write three sentences but I have the time and its important.



When I am found, I want to be able to say, I don't know why I was put here, but I made it. here is my proof. THIS. These pages are my proof.//

\ [email protected] @font-size:2em;[[(There are quite a few pages missing at this point. Like they were ripped right out down to the binding glue.)]]@@



//I'm still scared. I've slept three or four times. It feels like I've been here a long time but I've read that being isolated can fuck your perceptions of time. Its why prisoner advocacy groups consider it inhumane as a form of punishment. It's vicious mental torture.





After sleeping a few more time I decided it was time to explore a bit more. I went carefully to the shelf again and kept going.



I used the light that peeked in (under what I've been assuming was a door. It has no edges or anything.) to gauge my relative distance. Every so often I will find myself crying. Scraps of light aren't enough to keep me from scattering my thoughts into the wind. I miss the breeze. I haven't heard a sound since I got here. No scratching, no rumbling, no voices, nothing. The only noises I get come from me. I am my company. Well except you.



Explore the room again? [[Yes|Yes4]]/[[No|No4]]//





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She wraps her long hands around your neck and squeezes. You can see her eyes through the mask. They're gorgeous. Like wet gems.



[[They discover you in the stall with a face of blue.|another ghost story]]

The woman sobs once, then composes herself and stands straight. The man she is with looks equally distressed. Her face is contorted in disgust. His is a close mirror.



"Jesus god in [[heaven]]," she mutters.

It felt like the trees were closing in on him, a suffocating mixture of darkness and rustling leaves. It was rustling leaves, right? [[Not low whispers.]]

“You haven’t asked her about it, have you?”

“No, of course not. You told me to respect her choices and privacy, so I have. I’m just curious, is all. When did she start wearing it?”



There is a long moment of silence.



<<timedgoto "come home" 7s>>





The heels [[stop]] in front of your stall.

That was why he slowly took her hair in his hands and grabbed on to the sides of her skull, proceeding to lift it up and then slam it back down onto the fallen tree. [[The sound was like a deep drum]], as dry bark broke and flew off with the impact.

Above the desk, pinned to the wall by a dagger through the eye socket is Beth's head!



As the man's knife arcs down toward your throat, you glance across the room to Beth's bed where you can see her headless corpse.



[[The End|another ghost story]]

The next morning, the rash on my arm had gotten worse. [[It seemed to have spread]].

[[I am a doll.]]

@@font-size:5em;[[Maybe tomorrow night the face would be another few inches farther back from my window.|another ghost story]]@@

The raven peels a strip of flesh away from you and tugs it free. It sets the skin on your shoulder and begins slivering it with its beak. As it eats, the raven [[whispers]] to you.



"Why did you do it?"



[[Grief]]

[[Loneliness]]

[[Bitterness]]

His story claims that Charles looked the Figure in the face that afternoon. Their glove crept toward the wide-brimmed hat. A tug and [[reveal]].

He was out now though, here in that moment he had thought so often about during his time in prison. Now, he was out and there weren't any more terrifying dreams of things stalking him just beyond the corner of his eye. Justin liked to think he was a master with the ladies, but even he was surprised at how well his lines were working.



[[“I bet all the other girls are jealous of you.”]]



You slide your hand across the desk to a spot where you expect to find the lamp.



It's not there.



You sweep your hand across the desk in search of the lamp but your hand encounters only strewn papers and books. How odd. It's not Beth's habit to leave a messy desk. It's a small detail that you dismiss for now. Your main preoccupation is [[what to do next]] now that you can't locate the lamp.





//Just choose to be happy//. <<timedgoto "blank 18" 4s>>

Big Charles passed through the entrance and set out for Lot #3. The Cadillac rolled over unmarked graves, uprooted weeds, & spooked a few cats. There were no buildings-not even a shack on the property.



But there was [[a single headstone|Lot #3]] in the center of Lot #3.

There’s just...<br> <<timedinsert 2s>>silence.<<endtimedinsert>>



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Justin shook his head, but then quickly nodded. He was scared and unsure of the exact answer the woman wanted, fighting not to scream.



[[“Here I was just looking to have some fun tonight and you had to go and do that. And what were you going to do, bury me out there and hope no one noticed I was gone?”]]





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@@font-size:3em;She reached to her side and pulled out [[a thorn from her ribcage]]. Then slowly, she took [email protected] @ @@font-size:3.5em;thorn and started pricking my [email protected]

Out stepped the Figure, coat and brim as ashen as their chariot. The Figure seemed to [[glower]] at the Cadillac for an eternity.



Then the [[ritual]] began.

by Kitty Horrorshow

Then all of a sudden I felt a piercing pain in my lips. She bit me. She bit me on my lips in an effort to struggle to get free. I liked that. I liked seeing her struggle and fight for her freedom. [[Just like thorns on roses]], my Rose had a side of her that I've never seen before. She had defiance, rebelliousness, and resiliency.

//Feel my way around. Whoever put me down here did it for a reason. Maybe to hurt me. Maybe to punish me. I haven't done anything to anyone to justify this. Even if you stretched my sins as far as they would go, being thrown here isn't enough.



Take a deep breath? [[Yes|Yes1]]/[[No|No1]]//



I must have fallen asleep, because it was hours later when I heard a short, quick scream, and then complete silence.



Shifting upwards in my bed, my heart was suddenly pounding.



"Sally?" I shouted. [["Sally?!?"]]

//Just ring the bell and go back to living//. <<timedgoto "blank 15" 4s>>

I stand as still as I can. I swallow my breath, and my speeding heartbeat, and any emotions I might be feeling somewhere in the distant parts of me. I am a doll, and @@font-size:3em;doll eyes don't [email protected] @.



The bedroom door flies open.



[[The End.|another ghost story]]

//I'm worthless, I'm worthless, I'm worthless, [[I'm -]]//

Am I even [[human|human2000]], or just an @@font-color: red; [email protected]

Justin sat with his legs tucked under him, attempting not to vomit below such a beautiful night sky, but the dead body was making that part hard. Alex looked so peaceful with her head resting on the log and her eyes still, staring up at the moon. This was supposed to be some quiet lovemaking in the woods on a summer's night-because what else was there to do in that part of Georgia on a Friday night [[just two weeks after being released from prison]]?

...two stacks of cash. Four. Six. Eight clips of wrinkled hundred-dollar bills, reeking of mildew. [[Without a word]], the Figure scribbled into a form and left for the exit as abruptly as they arrived.



Pinned to the wall by a dagger through the eye socket is Beth's head and beneath it, scrawled in blood is the message, "aren't you glad you didn't turn on the light".



Without thinking -- for by now your body is on autopilot, you tug back Beth's blanket to find her headless corpse.



[[The End|another ghost story]]

I was instantly mesmerized by her. How could such a perfect creature possibly roam the hallways of our pathetic redneck school? We weren't worthy of her. I thought she was perfect. A [[perfect human being]], created by the hands of God.

Rose's parents went out of town and she had the house all to herself. She invited me over to her place and like the shy guy I am, I nervously accepted. As I gazed into Rose's eyes, I experienced something I've never experienced before. Something in me tingled. It felt as if someone has electrocuted me and every single cell in my body became alive. The cells in my body danced around uncontrollably. [[I couldn't wait.]]

Although it is now 6 months and a dozen parties into the university year, you still can't navigate this room without turning on the light. It's especially hard while you're under the influence of [[three beers and four whiskies]].



You dare not turn on the light because you promised your roommate, Beth, you would not wake her.



In the dark you cannot see 'Beth the bookworm' but you can hear faint breathing coming from the general direction of her bed. The breaths are shallow and irregular -- not the deep steady breaths of a heavy sleeper. Beth is a very light sleeper and she will surely be upset if you disturb her. While you were out partying, she studied for tomorrow's big science test. You are depending on borrowing her study notes for a last minute cram. Without those notes you will fail the test. It's a failure you can't afford.



The alchohol makes your head spin so you place your hand on the desk to steady yourself. You remember there's a lamp on the desk. If you turn it on you will be able to see your bed but you might awaken Beth.



If you do not turn on the light, you will fumble in the dark and possibly make enough noise to awaken Beth anyway. You consider these options.



[[Turn on the desk lamp|Turn on the desk lamp]].



[[Do not turn on the desk lamp|Do not turn on the desk lamp]].



The clammy tiles don't end. Darkness in all directions. You crawl for a long time. For a mile. More than a mile. You are thirsty and warm.



[[There is nothing.|another ghost story]]







I claw at my face,<<timedinsert 1s>> the walls, <<gains>>the lid, <<gains>>my stomach.<br><<endtimedinsert>> <<timedinsert 4.5s>>Blood is running everywhere and my are fingers scraped down to the bone.<br><br><<endtimedinsert>><<timedinsert 8s>>I know I’m still alive because it hurts [[//<big>so</big> much//|each thwump]].<<endtimedinsert>>

Shouldering itself up from the dark earth, beams and supports, tarps pulled taught, dark-eyed and slump-shouldered figures moving carts and stringing lights, spitting into the dust.



A breeze courses through your legs. You turn lazily [[back and forth]].

Your arms disobey your command to raise. Your muscles are leaden and inert. Your fingers are still. You [[cannot move|silent]].

@@font-size:1.5em;I was on the second floor. There was no balcony outside my window. I couldn't breath, I felt turned to stone. Except for the pounding and pulsing of my blood throughout my veins from my [[beating heart]] [email protected]

At that moment, I was suddenly snapped back to reality. I am Oliver, [[the fat olive that doesn't deserve to love or be loved]]. I walked away from Rose and headed towards the exit.

Ever since I was little, kids in the playground made fun of me. Tortured me. Teased me. Some enjoyed making my life a living hell. Others looked at me with pity in their eyes. I knew some of them wanted to stand up for me. But they were too afraid to. They were afraid that they would be the next targets for the [[bullies]].

'Ffffff -shhhh -' you stiffle a curse as you stub your bare toe on the study desk.



Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to sneak into [[your dorm room in the dark|Your Room]].

The tree is [[creaking]].

<<display "stall">>

Customers did indeed file in, slack-jawed - but they'd all have to finance lesser cars. Oh, some would scale that ladder little-by-little, and trade up to fancier models...[[but no one could ever make it to the Cadillac]].

@@font-size:1.5em;I saw Rose. My beautiful Rose. She was standing over me, like an [email protected] @ @@font-size:2.5em;[[She was the only one who ever understood me, my Rose]] [email protected]

She steps back into the darkness. Step by step. Until she's [[gone]].

//They do not deserve your pity.//



"Perhaps not," whispers the raven. "But they have more than earned it."



The raven continues to chew on the [[scrap of your flesh|continues to eat]].

As I opened my bedroom door, I heard the front door slam

They cruised down the back roads, where you could just see through the overgrown moss. Keith's sure that Cadillac's nav unit was faulty. Only thing out that far was a cemetery. Maybe the Figure was an undertaker? [[They love grim humor]].

That's funny, I thought. Last I checked, I didn't have a bedbug issue. What could it be? Was I bitten by mosquitoes during my sleep? Even if that were true, would it be possible that there were hundreds of mosquitoes? I pushed that thought to the back of my mind and I got dressed for school. I wore a long-sleeved shirt to cover up my arm and [[I slathered on Polysporin]].

I reached the bottom. I looked towards the sink, and slowly brought the beam of light up towards the [[wall]].

@@font-size:2em;Part of me wished it was a physical hurt, one I could put ice on and [email protected] @ @@font-size:1.5em;One people understood. Well, no, people didn't even understand that, either. They saw a black eye, and averted their gaze, believed stories of falling down stairs or other such [[accidents.]]@@

My mother [[disapproved|she says]].

She always wanted children. We would pass by a toddler in a stroller and I would see that smile again. Her eyes would get a little teary and her hand would go to her stomach like she was already expecting. She would look up at me and tell me how much she wanted a child to call her own.



"It'll look just like you," she would say. "It'll have those big brown eyes and a shiny, thick head of hair."



She always said she wanted nothing more than to brush a little boy or girl's hair in the morning and send them off to school. They'll come back later and she'll scrub off the dirt and grime from the playground and she'll tuck them into bed, patting their hair and giving their cheeks little pinches.



They'll look at her and say she was a beautiful mommy and then she'll say that they were beautiful babies.



Then she'll look at me and [[I'd roll my eyes|Walk 2]].

@@font-size:2.5em;He had climbed into the box himself, to prove to me that it was safe. His friend, an owner of a magic shop, was the one to saw Harry in [email protected] @ \ [email protected] @font-size:2em;As I had stood there, in this dark magic shop after it had already closed, I saw Harry be pulled apart, his head and torso separated from his lower half, as he smiled at me and said [[“ta-da!”]]@@

That's right, a ritual. What else do you call circling a wagon, dragging fingertips 'cross the paint in a Carolina summer? A customer with //that// sorta fixation [[comes to buy]].

//Do you want



[[red paper]]



or



[[blue paper]]



or



[[nothing|nothingporp]]//

Fuck. That’s not rain. <<timedgoto "what im" 4s>>

My parents bought a new house last month. It's at the edge of a subdivision in my hometown. The yards in these old lots are massive. There is enough space for a side yard. The last owners said they bred large dogs and kept them in the basement until they learned to behave. There are scrape marks all over the basement and has a faint sour scent. It's pretty fucked up they did this to dogs.



I offer to help them by cleaning out the place before the contractors show up and gut the place. Under the stairs of the basement is a journal. I don't think much of it. I put it in my backpack (because I love reading peoples old diaries) and take it home.

\ [email protected] @font-size:2em; font-decoration:underline; [[Here is the diary in its entirety:]]@@



I’ve always been a @@font-size: 2em; little [email protected] @ of the [[dark]].

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During the morning class, Ms. Reynolds took attendance. Rose was absent. No one knew what had happened to Rose. No one knew, but me. And in a sickening way, the thought of killing her with my bare hands made me feel…powerful. I spent the rest of the school day walking down the halls with more confidence. [[I felt alive.]]

If you want to survive an encounter with a demon, you must do the following: @@font-size:1.5em;stay perfectly [email protected] @. Demons hate humans, and they will try everything in their power to destroy the humanity within you. @@font-size:1.5em;So do not [email protected] @ @@font-size:2em;Do not [email protected] @ @@font-size:2.5em;Don't even [email protected] @



< >< >Like a doll.< >



< >< >Lifeless.< >



< >< >If you don't stay still he will notice and before you even know what's happening his long, taloned fingers will seize you by the [[throat]].< >



It’s one of those bright and sunny days that people love so much. But the sun feels hostile, and gravity is trying to pull the limbs from my torso. Sometimes simply just <small>existing</small> is exhausting.<br><br> The grave beside the bell is open, and there’s an [[empty|not sure]] coffin smiling at me invitingly. I have the overpowering desire to see, after all this time, what it’s actually like down there.<br><br> My shift is almost over, and [[I know I won’t be missed|blank 1]], so I slip down and close the lid over me.

Alex took in a sharp breath and flinched, eyes widening to look up at the moon. She had said something, but Justin could not make it out.



“Oh god…” he finally understood her to say.



That was when it hit him. It could partially be blamed on the alcohol, more so on fear and guilt, but most importantly the desire to avoid the possible future that had been laid out for him. He was not just having the flashes now, but felt the other prisoner breathing down his neck like monsters in the night. It wasn't delusions or imaginary shadows he always caught glimpses of just out of the shadow of his eyes. [[Sometimes the worst monsters are really just humans, after all.|afterallmonsters]]

It’s called a captain’s bed, but it’s never led you anywhere. You used to pretend it was a boat on a sea of bad dreams and if you didn’t touch the carpet you wouldn’t sink, [[but this is not a story about the events on top of beds|monsters]].

The raven turns its head and pierces the skin of your face with its beak. It punctures the flesh of your cheek. It bites down and tugs, widening the wound.



The sun continues to sink. The purple dye of twilight works slowly across the orange canvas of the sky.



You wish the raven would leave you alone, but [[you know that it won't]].

You watch night subsume the dusk as the raven eats away at your cheek. The carnival has finished its growing, a jagged mass of splinters and sounds and red-white tents, cackling and crackling away in the [[October night]].

@@font-size:3em;I hadn't felt safe with Harry, not really, not [email protected] @ @@font-size:1.5em;I always say now, “don't date magicians. Their major skill is making you believe you've made a choice, when they've really just been manipulating you the whole time.” [[He once tried to saw me in half]]. He wanted me to be his [email protected]

Justin was near the edge of the woods now, able to see the trees beginning to thin and dim lights from the road. Justin's heart was pounding, and he was sure that safety was close. He pushed his legs to go, determined to make it, but those thoughts of salvation were cut down, just like his legs out from under him. Alex had tackled him with some deal of strength, quickly turning him, sitting atop his chest with her knees pinning his arms. She was so real, but the people still laughing at him, they were in question.



[[“There we go,” she said playfully. “I like being on top.”]]



"Ugh," says the voice. "Fuckin' nasty, that."



"Someone's idea of a joke," says another, higher, oily.



"[[What should we do with it?]]"

She comes to my bed every night while I'm asleep and she stands over me and [[pricks me with her thorn]].

[[It was an out of body experience.]]

Justin was about to yell. His body clenched, protectively, like he had so many times before. This could not be happening and he had just officially lost it. Alex's hand was quicker though, [[blocking his mouth and nose as his cries were muffled]].

Flipping on the stereo? Volume stuck on max. Showing off the locks? Out the window, with you-doors wouldn't open. Test drive? If it even cranked -- the brakes would be shot.



<<timedgoto "til the Figure came 'round" 6s>>

<<timedinsert 2.5s>>I let go of the string, and smile.<<endtimedinsert>> <<timedgoto "another ghost story" 10s>>

I knew enough not to ask, though. It was a word of caution from my mother when I moved in. “Mia, baby, whatever you do, just don’t bother your aunt about her fashion choices, okay? Especially her accessories. She likes what she likes, okay?”



[[I agreed|agreed]], naïve as ever.

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“Justin… dear…” she said curtly. “I said it was a joke. Charlie told me to say it….”



Justin turned almost quicker than he could comprehend, lucky that he did not piss himself as well. The naked figure in front of him caused his eyes to widen and his body to clench.



[[“It was your friend that said you'd find that shit funny,” she cursed. “Charlie swore that was the kind of sick joke you'd appreciate.”]]



A new girl came to our school. Her name was Rose. She was beautiful, just like the flower. Her lips were ruby red. Her skin was flushed and had a [[rose coloured hue]]. She had a cute-as-a-button nose and beautiful brown eyes. Her black hair glistened like diamonds under the bright sun. It cascaded down her back like smooth satin.

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<<timedgoto "mana2" 4s>>

I feel for the string of the bell by my face. All I have to do is [[pull it|blank 14]].

You abandon your search for the desk lamp and take a step. The stabbing pain in your foot is such that you suck back your breath to stiffle a whimper. You can feel the blood drain from your head -- it hurts that sharply.



You reach down and pull a shard of glass from your foot. Glass!? Why is glass on the floor?



You carefully lower your foot to the floor but you don't put your weight on it because you can feel more broken glass.



[[And the lamp!]]





I smiled half-heartedly, and then retreated to my bedroom.



Those eyes. That smile.



So charming.



So [[manipulative]].

Everyone's always telling me to "sit still" and "be quiet" and it'll be all right.



<<timedreplace 3s>><<becomes>>But they're wrong.<<endtimedreplace>>



<<timedreplace 4s>><<becomes>>Things will never be okay.<<endtimedreplace>>



<<timedreplace 5s>><<becomes>>Ever [[again|again]]<<endtimedreplace>>

The @@font-size:1.5em;red [email protected] @ matched her hair perfectly. At first, I didn’t even think anything of it; it just seemed so perfect in my aunt’s effortless sorta-steampunk style.



Then I started to realize something.



< >< >[[@@font-size:2em;She never took it [email protected] @.|never took it off]]< >

[[But I can't.]] She won't listen anyway.

I was sure I heard footsteps from the end of the hallway but I quickened my pace and muffled a whimper. I took the stairs down, two at a time, and grabbed the banister to swing myself around the corner as I headed into the kitchen. I flicked on the light and stopped dead in my tracks.



<<timedreplace 8s>><<becomes>>There was [[nothing]] coming from the faucet, but I could still here it.<<endtimedreplace>>



I spun around to the sound of the noise. It was coming from the laundry room - in the basement. “Of course” I thought – “the one room with no light”. Aggravated, I grabbed a flashlight from underneath the sink, and flicked it on as I marched towards the laundry room stairs. I gathered all my courage, held my breath, and headed down the stairs. My heart was racing so fast I could feel it through my shirt, and hear it [[in my ears]].

I turned to run, and saw a @@font-size:3em;menacing dark figure step into the doorway at the top of the [email protected] @



[[“Humans can lick too, beautiful”.|another ghost story]]



Ugh. The [[kitchen]].

My eyes shot open. I couldn’t take it. I took a deep breath, and headed towards the door.



My heart was racing. @@font-size:3em;[[“Don’t think about scary things. Don’t think about scary things”]] [email protected] @



If you didn’t have a bed with drawers underneath, like I did as a kid. Full of Archie comics I refused to throw away for years. Remember something about that, it might be important [[later|Under]].)

I tried to ignore it at first, hoping the drip would stop, but the longer I waited, the @@font-size: 4em; [email protected] @ it seemed. The bathroom sink felt light years away, and I warily looked out into the darkness of my [[bedroom door]].

@@font-size:2em;I dig my nails deeper and harder. If there is any part of Harry left inside of me, I'm determined to rip it out [email protected] @

\ [email protected] @font-size:1em;I can still feel his hands on my arms, and every part of me shudders. His touch was poison. I didn't poison myself - [[his breath was a toxicity that was airborne.]]@@

Untitled Story

Although it is now 6 months and a dozen parties into the university year, you still can't navigate this room without turning on the light. It's especially hard to navigate while you're under the influence of three beers and four whiskeys.



You dare not turn on the light because you promised your roommate, Beth, you would not awaken her.



In this darkness you cannot see 'Beth the bookworm' but you can hear faint breathing coming from the general direction of her bed. The breaths are shallow and irregular -- not the deep steady breaths of a heavy sleeper. Beth is a very light sleeper. Beth will surely be upset if you disturb her. While you were out partying, she studied for tomorrow's big science test. You are depending on borrowing her study notes for a last minute cram. Without those notes you will fail the test. It's a failure you can't afford.



You place your hand on the desk to steady yourself. You remember there's a lamp on the desk. If you turn it on you will be able to see your bed but you might awaken Beth.



If you do not turn on the light, you will fumble in the dark to find your bed and possibly make enough noise to awaken Beth anyway. What should you do?



[[Turn on the desk lamp|Turn on the desk lamp]].



[[Do not turn on the desk lamp|Do not turn on the desk lamp]].



Now that I am a sophomore in high school, I still walk down the hallway with my head hung low. I see all the kids staring at me. They're probably thinking, “Oh, here comes Oliver, waddling down the hallway, like a big fat giant olive.” I always dreaded walking down hallways at school. It was as if I was on a runway. Instead of being a superstar model, I was a roll of fat that was walking down the runway as if there was cake waiting for me at the end of the hallway. [[Everyday I wanted to disappear]].

One night I woke up to a slow dripping sound [[echoing]] through my older house.







Heels [[click]] outside.

@@font-size:2em;“I feel like I'm missing an important part of the story, though. Like, why she comes after you.” He laughs, but not humorously. [email protected] @ @@font-size:2.5em;“The important thing is knowing what to do - or not do - so she won't come after you, and I can't even remember that. [[Maybe she comes after you no matter what you do]] [email protected] @ @@font-size:1.5em;Anyways, I was a child when I heard this. Oh, also, we have this other urban legend about faeries.”@@

My aunt had gorgeous red hair. I used to joke around and call her Elizabeth Siddal, the Pre-Raphealite painter’s model who almost died of pneumonia while posing for a painting of Ophelia.



But unlike Siddal’s gorgeous flowing locks, my aunt’s hair was short, cut close to her skull. She didn’t want the fuss of styling it. Said she [[gave up on all that years|gave up]] and years before.

He puts a hand on her back and attempts to laugh. "Hell of a decoration, huh? Must be where they put all the money they saved on those cheap-ass prizes."



She nods slowly. Her eyes never leave yours. "Yeah," she [[murmurs]].

Justin did not get a chance to answer, to tell Alex the wonderful plan he had concocted, because there was the sound of an engine.

Alex cursed in Spanish under her breath, she wondered if they could have a few more minutes if she kept him quiet, but then heard Vicky calling out both of their names.



[[“Justin! Alex!”]]



He was stuck in the moment, determined to fix the situation he had gotten himself into. He needed to think of how to deal with Charlie and Vicky, how to spin this all to them. If he did this right, Charlie would help him hide the body. Charlie owed him. He had done time for that man. This is what Justin thought as he crawled away, sitting under the bright moon in his boxers with his legs tucked underneath him as he looked at the pretty dead girl in front of him. [[Justin thought he was about to vomit, hearing his former cellmates behind him, laughing at his expense.]]

When I was in my mid-20s, I went to live with my aunt in Toronto. I was pursuing a post-graduate diploma in Creative Writing, and a year of graduate school had (and no concept of how to properly budget my funding money) had [[left me penniless.|penniless]]

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It had all been rather stupid. Justin took the fall for a group of friends, pill distributors and small time pot farmers. He was only twenty and had already served nine months in jail-the roughest [[nine months of his life]]-but it seemed to have been the sobering experience his parents had thought it would be. Upon his release Justin distanced himself from those 'friends', even though he had never once dreamed of giving them up for leniency, a decision which he paid for.

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Heavy blankets tips of sewn yellow roses smelled like lavender before now [[it smells like lavender and someone else’s sweat.|hug]]

Keith was smart enough to leave it alone.



[[At least, he says he did.|another ghost story]]



@@font-size:3em;“Anywhere,” I said. What I really meant was [email protected] @ @@font-size:2.5em;I could feel every inch of skin, taut over my veins as my blood circulated the infection through every part of me. Every nook and cranny, especially behind the [email protected] @ @@font-size:4em;If only the poison were real, and [[not just a metaphor]] [email protected]

@@font-size:1.5em;I laid in my bed, staring out my window, thinking about [email protected] @

\ [email protected] @font-size:4em;[[Did saying “emotional abuse” make it easier to understand?]]@@



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My cousin once asked me if people ever really get buried alive. <br><br>My uncle cut me off, responding with all the authority of someone who’s been on the internet <br>[[once or twice|we have systems]]:

Instead of only my arm being itchy, my entire body felt itchy. Then I looked down and [[I discovered that my bed was soaked in blood]]. My heart raced. I knew something was wrong.

Don't know what I was saying about loss... maybe it had to do with this woman? I wanted to lose this woman, who I just realized continue to follow me.



I didn't hear her walking. Every time I looked behind me, she was just a little closer, her feet seemingly melting into the ashphalt and her eyes glaring at me. They seemed to glow in the darkness. I could see them clearly and for the first time I really looked at them, those dark brown eyes.



They seemed so [[familiar|The end 2]].







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Justin finally met Vicky, Charlie's girlfriend who he had been hearing about for the past six months, and her friend Alex, whom the couple was trying to not-so-subtly hook Justin up with. Alex had seemed shy at first, and bored that night. Shortly, they relocated to the woods - [[a quiet spot]] Charlie used to get high and write some of his shitty poetry.

But the air is getting thinner, and I suppose I can’t stay in here forever.



<<timedgoto "blank 5" 4s>>

“I'm sorry,” she said just before the first impact, “It was a joke, stop,” she begged before the second. He was not listening and by that time she was not making sense, unable to speak properly from the trauma. His hands were still on her head, feeling the warmth that remained, even though she had quit moving. Not quite all there, Justin's departure from her was slow, [[eyes locked on her face]].

Or at least in the old days, as Keith put it. Always threw that bit in there.



<<timedreplace 3s>><<becomes>>According to him, the Figure pulled the same stunt every Thursday for a good ten weeks. As soon as they even saw a salesperson //flinch//, they'd slink into their car and ride into the distance.



By week eleven, Big Charles was so mad that he sat Keith behind the Cadillac wheel. Didn't matter if he got heat stroke, Big Charles wanted him there [[til the Figure came 'round]].<<endtimedreplace>>

//Couldn't see much at first.



<<timedreplace 1.5s>><<becomes>>I woke up on a cement floor. It was damp and cold, smelled like wet garbage and mildew.



Afraid to get up, I decided lying there was the safest thing I could do. My heart thundered. My eyes stung, I could feel my nose begin to run.



None of that mattered. Try to search the room?// [[Yes]]/[[No]]<<endtimedreplace>>



That was not entirely true though, he distanced himself from them, but not from Charlie. Charles Wagner was a conundrum and an asshole, but he was Justin's asshole, and had been the only one to actually write and visit Justin during his sentence. So it stood to reason that once Justin was allowed outside of the house again that the first person he would want to spend time with was Charlie, who had promised a large bag of weed and a night with a beautiful woman to welcome his friend back into the arms of a loving society. Charlie was an odd one, but he seemed like a true friend, and [[Justin would do almost anything]] to finally spend a night without the nightmares prison had bestowed upon him.



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I [[<big>scream</big>|so loudly]].

//Because, though I did all I could, gave all I had, helped all those who could be helped, still the halls and rooms of my home stayed empty.//



The raven chews pensively on the scrap of your skin.



"I will stay with you for a time, [[if you like]]."

What I’m actually hearing is the sound most familiar to me in the world. The rhythmic beat that has scored my entire life, indistinguishable from my own pulse. The sound of [[dirt hitting wood|blank 7]].



@@font-size:4em;I touched my [email protected] @ //[[What would I even do?]]//

//“Please help.” The rest is missing.//

\ [email protected] @font-size:2em;[[The diary ends there.|another ghost story]]@@

<<timedreplace 2s>> <<becomes>>@@font-size:2em;“It’s ... @@<<endtimedreplace>> <<timedreplace 5s>> <<becomes>> @@font-size:2.5em;just ... @@<<endtimedreplace>> <<timedreplace 7s>> <<becomes>>[[@@font-size:2.75em;odd."@@|odd]]<<endtimedreplace>>

Each <big>//thwump//</big> of earth reminds me of another task I needed to have done, another person who's concerned for me, another thing I should be grateful for. <<timedgoto "blank 11" 6s>>

And, finally, I do. <<timedgoto "i let go" 4s>>

//You will stay only until you have fed yourself fat on my skin. You will take what you can, and then you will leave, and I will be alone again.//



"Perhaps once you had more to offer than skin," whispers the raven, "but now..."



The raven falls silent and [[continues to eat]].

@@font-size:2.5em;The creature has long hair, so long that when its wings flap the hair stirs softly with the effort. I look down and realize its cut across in half. Tendrils of organs fall from its exposed stomach. Its fingers are coated in blood, maybe from trying to hold its organs in place? My own sticky hands begin to [email protected] @

\ [email protected] @font-size:1em;//[[Something's wrong.]]//@@

But the truth is, if someone really was ever buried alive, we’d probably never even realize it. Chances are they would run out of oxygen long before anyone heard the bell.<br><br> <<timedinsert 6.5s>>After a while I just stopped thinking about it.<<endtimedinsert>>



<<timedgoto "and yet" 12s>>

Your arm disobeys your impulse to reach up and swat at the raven. It remains lax at your side. The raven continues to eat in silence, plucking another shard of skin from your sallow face.



"Most generous of you," it [[whispers|continues to eat]].

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Your fingers feel the wall beside the door and finally, there it is. You switch on the light and turn to go to your bed.



Before you can scream he has one calloused hand over your mouth and the other rises up, gripping a knife that glints in the light. Past his gnarly head you can finally see [[what the darkness concealed.]]

The Basement



<<timedgoto "basementstart" 4s>>

@@font-size:2.5em;“Manananggal is a woman. A monster, actually, thought tobe a reflection of what was always called a "deeply disturbed person." She can detach her torso from her legs, and she has wings, so she can fly.”@@

\ [email protected] @font-size:1.5em;“That's terrifying.”@@

\ [email protected] @font-size:2.5em;“Yeah, it gets worse though. She has this long tongue that she uses to steal babies from wombs. She only goes after people who are pregnant.”@@

\ [email protected] @font-size:1em;We both loved horror, and [[I always said horror was the one thing that would cheer me up]] [email protected] @



You are watching the red-orange sun sink beneath a distant crest of hill. Tiny fingers of cool air slide between your bare toes. The tree sighs. The rope creaks.



[[A raven lights on your shoulder]].

@@font-size:1.5em;I watched as my fingers wrapped over Rose's delicate and creamy neck. I felt my fingers slowly starting to contract around her neck. The more she struggled,@@ @@font-size:2.5em;[[the harder I squeezed]] [email protected]

I don't know. I've been at this for years now, and I've never seen it happen.<br><br> <<timedinsert 3.5s>>I used to think about it sometimes while I'd fill in the graves.<br><br> <<gains>>And yeah, sure, if you ignore all the preventative steps that could have been taken before the person was put in the ground, or the fact that none of these “systems” actually considered providing them with air, the safety precautions are [[enough|truth is]]. <<endtimedinsert>>

@@font-size:2.5em;I looked back at the window. The face was still there, it's tongue still writhing in the middle of a wicked [email protected] @



< >< >@@font-size:3em;But it wasn't as close this time. [[It must have moved back a few inches]] [email protected] @< >

you know, //polite company//.



<<timedgoto "my cousin" 4s>>

You’d like to say [[yes]] or [[no]].



But the monster comes in and gets its hug. Later, you’ll remember being told to lie on the [[carpet beyond the other side of the bed]] on the floor.



Later you’ll remember the weight on top you. Wishing it was a [[ghost]] instead.



It’s one of those bright and sunny days that people love so much. But the sun feels hostile, and gravity is trying to pull the limbs from my torso. Sometimes simply just <small>existing</small> is exhausting.<br><br> The grave beside the bell is open, and there’s an [[empty|not sure]] coffin smiling at me invitingly. I have the overpowering desire to see, after all this time, what it’s actually like down there.<br><br>

The toddler is not consoled. Its eyes are locked to yours. You do not understand the expressions of children, but for a moment it seems as though the child is crying not from fear, but from [[overwhelming pity]].

@@font-size:2.5em;With a gust of wind, the branches swayed and the leaves obscured the light from the lamppost. I turned to look fully out my window, and immediately froze.



<<timedreplace 2.5s>><<becomes>>[[There was a face.]]<<endtimedreplace>>@@

"Leave it," says the oily voice.



"[[Adds to the decor]]."

@@font-size:2.5em;Instead I look out the window. The face is still there, snarling at me with that [email protected] @

\ [email protected] @font-size:1.5em;//Why can't he just leave me alone? He's already taken everything he can from me.//[[I have nothing left.]]@@

I looked at her crackling face, which at this distance seemed to be falling apart, and could not muster up the words. There was nothing beautiful about her now. Flecks of her skin blew off in the breeze and I can see the patches where her hair had fallen out. I prayed I never had to see what was under the mask.



"I..."



She inched a little closer. "Am I beautiful?" she repeated, removing her mask to reveal the slits near the edges of her mouth. I had tried to bring back her smile, the one I missed from all those years ago. Her mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, her black gums melting out from the jagged holes on her cheeks.



There it was, the smile I missed. I missed it so much that I took that knife and forced it upon her. I never wanted to lose it again, that smile, that happiness, that face that said I was loved.



"You're beautiful. As always."



Not sure if that worked. The world seemed to swirl around us, blur and fade without shape or definition, all I wanted was for her to see the face of sincerity and apology, that I truly meant what I said.



Once. I meant it once. Maybe that was enough. At least the smile was there.



"Am I beautiful?" she repeated. She slashed at my face but I didn't see a knife. "Am I beautiful now??" She slashed again. I could feel the blood dripping over my chin. [[It was almost soothing.|another ghost story]]







I remember her eyes as she she screamed, as I held the weightless knife in my hand. Everything in the span of creation seemed to be leading me to this moment, with the blade and her drowning face, covered in tears and blood that looked like it stung just a little as it seeped into each of the little cuts on her cheeks.



I remember holding her chin in my hand (it fit between two fingers) and sticking the tip into her mouth and she trembled. For the first time she felt me. She really felt me.



I remember pleading for her to smile. I needed it. I wanted to see it so bad, to remember what it was like when she needed me.



And then I moved the blade back and forth, drawing out that grin.



There it is. There's that [[smile|Smiling and walking]].



I'm getting too old for this. Maybe I should retire soon, spend the rest of my days drinking beer and watching TV. Or maybe I should pick up a hobby. Maybe I can get back in the dating game, pick up some girls. I'm not old enough to be completely done yet.



Although nothing excited me anymore, not even women.



Not since I lost her.



Well, "lost" isn't the proper word. I don't know what could describe what happened to her.



She was just upset all the time. I couldn't get her to smile. She would just scream at me, clutch her stomach, wonder why I never wanted to be with her, but then shy away and scream some more when I got close. I wanted her so bad. I wanted her small body against mine and I wanted her to tell me how strong I was. I wanted everything about her, from her slim waist to her thick, tuggable hair and especially that wonderful mouth of hers.



I



wanted



[[her|Quick walk]].

Sitting in the bathroom stall.



[[Someone is coming]]

//My t shirt's collar was soaked. The back of my head hurt a lot, no oozing wound. I could feel the cut.



My face felt worse. Swollen. lip was split open. dried blood in my mouth

Nose broken. Blood dried around nostrils.



Still have my all my teeth. I can still smell.



Still breath through all my tubes.



Head and neck: check



My wrists sore. Stomach sore. Legs ok. Arms and hands intact.



No tears on my T-shirt or jeans. My jacket is missing. My usual hoodie is gone too. Pockets empty. Left my shoes and socks though.



Everything is intact.



I had to find a way out. But instead I cried until I fell asleep. Curled up.



[[I slept a lot after that. I never felt like I was resting. Only waiting.]]//



The walk home from work seemed worse than usual today. My feet felt heavy in my leather shoes, my tie too tight, the sweat dripping in buckets off my brow. The air hung silent beneath the street lamps. I remember thinking that all I wanted at that point was to drop onto my bed and I didn't care about taking off my pants. Maybe I'll wear the same thing to work tomorrow, not even bother showering. I couldn't bear to lift my arms and remove my coat. Everything just felt... [[heavy|The First Meeting]].

One day, something [[unthinkable]] happened.

@@font-size:1.5em;What I saw was a reflection of my own body. Except my body was different. My body was covered in hundreds of tiny pin-sized [email protected] @ @@font-size:2.5em;[[Holes with blood dripping out from them.]]@@ @@font-size:1.5em;I felt myself lose consciousness as I slid down to the [email protected]

<<timedgoto "next" 2.5s >>

(controlled transition to next passage)



<<timedreplace 6s >> <<becomes>>I was pursuing a post-graduate diploma in Creative Writing, and a year of graduate school had (and no concept of how to properly budget my funding money) had [[left me penniless.|penniless]]<<endtimedreplace>>

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@@font-size:5em;A leering, smiling face. With a long tongue, like a snake' [email protected] @ @@font-size:2.5em;I wondered if that tongue dripped venom. Was it used for self-defense? I should be okay, as long as I don't provoke it - at least that's what I've always been led to [email protected] @ @@font-size:1.5em;[[How silly, of me]], I should have [email protected]

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I felt like I was going to puke. The smell seemed to have attached itself to my clothing, my skin, my bones. Now that she was close I could see that her face was falling apart, flecks of skin blowing off with the breeze. I could see the clumps of gray skin where hair once was, how uneven everything seemed to be. She was not who I once knew, that beautiful girl with the smile.



Then again, I knew what saying no would mean. She was always very tempermental when it came to her looks.



"Am I beautiful?" she repeated, removing her mask to reveal the slits near the edges of her mouth. I had tried to bring back her smile, the one I missed from all those years ago. Her mouth opened wider than I had ever seen it, her black gums melting out from the jagged holes on her cheeks. Her smile, It was grotesque. She was grotesque.



"You're disgusting," I spat at her. "You always have been, with your whiny ass. No wonder I destroyed you. I should have done it sooner."



And that was the end of it. [[Felt good though.|another ghost story]]

The raven says nothing, but watches all of this transpire with an academic curiosity.



"This never happens to us," whispers the raven.



//What? Unkindness?//



"We always know our own dead," whispers the raven.



[[You say nothing]].

We stopped having sex around two years into our relationship. Sex wasn't common in our household before this, but now there was nothing but dryness and it was starting to hurt. I wanted to go inside her, fuck her senseless, have her scream and then break out into that smile I loved so much. It made me feel like a king.



Then I felt like a fool.



I remember one night coming to bed, getting under the covers with her and wrapping my arms around her slim waist. I remember her turning over away from me and clutching her stomach.



"What's the pont?" she said later.



"Because I love you."



"But what is the point, really? Am I beautiful to you?"



"Yes you are. You're beautiful."



Or something like that. It's been a while. It's not important.



"I don't believe you," she yelled. "What is the point of any of this? Do you even love me?!?"



I remember staring at her as she yelled, throwing her arms in the air, her hair in knots. I recall looking at her and wondering when I would see that smile again, if I ever would see that smile again.



[[What was I doing?|Walk 3]]



Another loud bang shakes the house, and I catch my breath and hold it in. I know I won't have to wait long before the screaming begins, and I'm right.



No, not screaming. It's that @@font-size:2em;demonic [email protected] @



I hear @@font-size:3em; [email protected] @ above me. Crashing sounds. My heart starts to beat faster. The walls around me start to rattle and the room spins.



The @@font-size:3em; [email protected] @ are on the stairs now, heavy and angry, getting closer, getting @@font-size:4em;[[louder]] [email protected] @







@@font-size:2.5em;I heard Jayson's words, not like a voice over in a cheesy horror flick, but moreso as a whisper, right beside my [email protected] @

\ [email protected] @font-size:3em;[[Was this manananggal, or the other version?|Unti]]@@



He will pierce those fingers in, taking out pieces of you. He will pull out your bones and your teeth, eviscerate you and burn your skin until there is nothing left but hardened leather. Until you are nothing but the lifeless [[doll]] he craves. Until you are nothing but his.

In fact, Justin had nearly forgotten about Alex except in where his story was concerned. He was too wrapped in his own thoughts, starting to believe his own lies. In his defense, it would have been hard to see the body shifting in the dark anyway, no matter how much the pale moon accented her features. How was he even suppose to believe what was happening, anyway? [[None of it made sense anymore.]]

//All you have to do is ask for help.// <<timedgoto "blank 13" 4s>>

The first monster is a shape in the bedroom doorway, too heavy with breathing and piled flesh to be a ghost. Sweatpants tight over its gut. Your ghosts never wear sweatpants, never have guts. Funny monster. Lit behind from the hallway of your <<cyclinglink $WORD "grandmother's" "mum's" "dad's" "friend's" "uncle's">> house, it is the colour of nights away from your real bed. The one you’re in now sags heavy under sheets and blankets and [[you]].



Embroidered yellow roses you trace with your hands in the dark.



The monster wants a [[hug]].



[[ “Justin,” Charlie said as the van pulled off. “Dude, what is that smell? Did you piss yourself or something?”|another ghost story]]

But at that moment, I couldn't resist my urge. I pushed her back onto her bed and I kissed her. Rose tried to push me away and kept saying, “No, Oliver. We can't.” [[But I didn't listen.]] The more she struggled, the more excited I felt.

[[Elegant and poised, just like my Rose.]]

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It was over. It was all over. I climbed off of her and I saw Rose's lifeless body. How peaceful she looked. How elegant and regal. Just like the single rose on her night stand, [[the lifeless Rose]] looked like so beautiful and serene.

The sky has gone dark. A moon the color of a burning house sits atop the crest of a far, black hill. In the darkness of the outskirts of town, the carnival is a yowling, kaleidoscopic beacon, a cacophony of light. A breeze presses against your legs. You [[sway gently]].

@@font-size:2.5em;I watched as she struggled for her breath. I watched as her face turned crimson red. I watched as her lips form the [email protected] @ @@font-size:3em;[[“please.”]]@@ @@font-size:2.5em;I watched as I saw her take her last [email protected]

I didn’t know my aunt before I moved in with her. I knew of her, but I had never actually met her. She didn’t care to return to Windsor, and I had had no business in Toronto until school brought me in that direction.



<<timedreplace 5.5s>> <<becomes>>[[“Why do you ask?”|it's just]] I could hear the shift in tone in my mom’s voice.<<endtimedreplace>>



Cathleen MacDonald

She screams, loudly. Both she and her companion lurch back. The collision sets you swinging, twisting. The branch and the rope creak together. A few dead leaves drift earthward.



The raven, jostled from its perch, takes flight and disappears into the overhanging night. As it flies, you hear it whisper to you one last time:



"[[Enjoy your prison]]."



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Upstairs, I pulled off my socks and grabbed my cell in order to call my current boyfriend.



Needed to shake the weight of that stare.



[["Harry, hi, can we talk?"]]

@@font-size:1em;Of course.



[[I am always to blame after all.]]@@





"I mean, you'd almost think [[it was real|another ghost story]]."

“Mom. Can I ask you a question?”

<<timedreplace 2s >> <<becomes>>"Sure, Mia, what's wrong?"<<endtimedreplace>>

<<timedreplace 4s>> <<becomes>>“….it’s about Sally. How long has she been wearing the red ribbon around her neck for?”<<endtimedreplace>>



<<timedgoto "why" 7s >>









Another breeze blows. You twist again, more this time, and for a moment your vision fills with rough bark. The tree creaks. You twist back to the autumn dusk.



With each passing minute you can feel your skin softening, feel gravity pulling at the loosening bones of your fingers and toes.



[[Evening is coming]].

You might have heard about monsters.

Funny monsters, scary monsters, as far away as the thickness of your [[mattress]].



Hiding in your closet, in the corners with the shirts you stopped wearing years ago.



Let me tell you a story about [[two monsters]].



"What's wrong?"



"I don't know... I just have a bad feeling about this guy, ya know?"



Harry sighed, and even though I can't see him, I know the face he's making.



It's a common one.



"Look, Mia. We've been through this before. [[You're just paranoid."]]

I looked down at my wrists. Maybe I should tie my own red ribbon? Maybe that's why Sally wear her's.



"I know, but -- "



"Mia, call the therapist. This isn't about you not trusting your aunt's new dude, and you know it."



"Harry --"



"Call the therapist, okay? You're letting your suspicions destroy you."



Shortly after is when we hung up. He said he wasn't feeling well, and would be around [[if I wanted to talk again.]]





One of the top dealerships in the South used to sit on the corner of 45th, right 'cross from the old mall. You can pin that "used to" on their troubles with a luxury order-a jet black [[Cadillac|Cadioff]] ...



It was on the high end for their usual clientele, but Big Charles stood firm that just //showcasing// a product like that would draw people in--an "[[aspirational]] status symbol".



That was the first time I heard her voice. Those three words that came out of her mouth sounded like angels singing in a choir in heaven. They sounded like a harmonious symphony to my ears. I never knew someone could sound so sweet and innocent. When I looked into her eyes, I saw something. I saw relief. I saw kindness. I saw purity. [[And just like that, I was hers.]] I was captivated by her.

The van had slowed down as Vicky yelled for them again. Alex took Justin's hand and put on her smile, motioning for him to do the same as she led them out. Charlie stopped the van when he saw the trees parting and someone pushing through. Vicky opened up the side door.



“There you two are, why did you wander off so far?”



[[“Oh you know, Vick, privacy.”]]



The two girls laughed as Alex practically helped the still wide-eyed Justin into the van. The door slid back shut and Charlie began to pick up speed down the deserted Georgia back road.



The body twisted slightly at the neck, and folded one leg underneath as a brace. The rest of the blood had found its way home and Justin could not see the animated corpse rising behind him. Alex's expression had been one of patience and wonder as she died, with her mouth slightly agape and eyes widened. They were narrowing now though, and her lips fell to a frown as her naked form stood tall and [[ready to approach her killer]].

@@font-size:2.5em;Outside, the leaves swayed again, and the light from the lamppost flickered. I felt safe with [email protected] @ @@font-size:3;Safe. Like, even though he didn't know how, [[he would protect me]] [email protected]

Silence.<<timedgoto "silence" 3s>>

//I watched and listened for anything that would give me ideas about where I was. Thin blades of light appeared in the air every couple of minutes. Cars? Couldn't hear them. Couldn't be a subway either because I'd feel it well before any light reached this room. If it's even a room.



When I finally got the guts to look around



It took a while but I realized I should check it out. All of it.



Search? [[Yes|YesNo]]/[[No.|YesNo]]//



I didn't go home, and I didn't drop the matter of the @@font-size:1.5em;red [email protected] @ either.



I just knew I had to be a bit sneakier about it, is all.



So I didn't bring it up again to my mom. She had her [[reasons|reasons]] for protecting my Aunt Sally's secrets, as strange as they were.

Oil is crackling in a fryer somewhere close. Automatons are cackling, grainy laughter rattling up from throats of tin and wire. The dirt path by the tree is lined with leering jack-o-lanterns.



Behind you, a gruff voice [[speaks]].

<small>But it would be so much easier to just be [[dead|blank 16]]</small>.



Pallid. Gaunt. And a disarming gaze of warmth.



“Fine time for you to show up. What do you want? That stupid Cadillac?” Big Charles cried.



He choked back a gasp as the Figure reached into their coat. [[They brandished|Cadillac]]...

[[I want to tell her to stop.]] Each prick is too painful.

She stood him up, hand still over his mouth as she whispered to him.



“[[Okay, little boy…]]we are going to walk out to our friends out there all smiles,” she instructed while dusting him off, “pretending like that was the best sex either of us ever had, and that nothing that actually happened did.”



She had already turned away though. He was not able to see the smirk on her face.



“I'm going to tell Charlie I don't like how his friends treat me, and I'll bet Vicky will tell her dad, she is my friend after all. Her dad's a cop, you know.”



“No, no! Wait.” Justin was almost yelling, hand outstretched, but she had already begun walking back to her pile of clothes by the log. He thought he saw another dark shadow run by. He turned to his head to follow it, but didn't see anything. He looked back at Alex. “You can't.”



“Aren't you on probation too?” She asked looking over her should. “Smoking weed, drinking, and sex with a minor[[… wow]].”



“We could strip it for parts and sell them off! Hell, I'll take it for myself as severance pay!”



And Big Charles snarled: “Key's right in the glove! But you can bet //they'll// come looking for you. And I don't want a thing to do with them or that [[black Cadillac]].”



The mother looks to her child, then behind herself, then to you. She, too, begins to laugh, consoling her child, its fear amusing to her.



"Oh, honeybear," she laughs, "it's okay. It's just a [[scary decoration]]."

@@font-size:2em;You find us where we always are, but where you never expect [email protected] @\ [email protected] @font-size:1.5em;There is a bright fire in the middle of our ill-shaped and half-hearted circle. We are in a dark woods, protected by layers of oak trees, gathered around the fire, sitting on logs, crossed legs, blankets.

Some of us are smiling, genuine smiles. Others, you can tell from the taut way their lips stretch across their teeth, their smiles mask something else. Something harder to swallow.

We are telling each other stories. Some of us are playing it up, using spooky voices and dramatic hand gestures when we talk. Others don’t take their eyes off the fire, their hands, their shoes, talking to somebody who isn’t even there.

[[You sit down.|Story Menu]]@@

\ [email protected] @font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:3.5em;Content [email protected] @ \ [email protected] @font-family:Palatino Linotype;font-size:2em;Please read with [email protected] @

physical abuse, sexual abuse, sexual assault, emotional abuse, violence for most stories.

All stories belong to the respective authors and do not necessarily reflect the views of others in this collection.

@@font-size:5em;[[One painful prick at a time.]]@@

Two beers later, it was like paint by numbers. Alex had been talking about wanting to go to the beach before summer ended, and Justin was listening diligently as his fingers played across her bare leg, all the way up to the short cut-off jean shorts. Charlie and Vicky had retreated back to the van and became intimate-loudly intimate. Alex had finally noticed and it was her that, with a devious smile, made the suggestion that they go find their own spot deeper in the woods. [[Justin would have agreed to almost anything she said at that point]] - like a dog she could pull along anywhere with her. No leash required though, he was being led by the bulge in his pants and the realization that it had been nearly a year since he had kissed a girl.

When it was done, they were both dirty and still breathing heavily, drinking in the humidity like sea water. There was only a brief moment of real silence before she threw and arm over him, leaning her head down to kiss the warm skin of his chest near black and red 'lucky XIII' tattoo.



“That was…“ Alex's sentence cut short, as if she had changed her mind.



“Great? Fun? We should go again?” Justin said with a smile, offering to finish her thought for her.



“How much did I have to drink…?” Alex said unconvincingly.



“Huh? I don't know. [[I'm not sure to be honest]],” he said leaning up.



The second monster is [[you|you2]].



Not every night, but some nights between the shadow in the doorway and the record that made your skin shrink around you, you pull the drawers out from underneath your [[normal bed]] at home. For as long as you still fit, you crawl inside where the drawer should go. You put yourself in storage, safe, under the bed where monsters and other <<cyclinglink "scary" "lost" "messy">> things are supposed to go. You wish you could pull the drawer back in after you and disappear, but this is increasingly difficult as you [[grow older]].



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The demon did not need a mouth, for when he screamed it was not a human scream. But I could still hear it. More than hear it... I could feel it. It was a wail that seemed to @@font-size:1.5em;rise from the [email protected] @, coming up from the very @@font-size:1.5em;bowels of the [email protected] @ in a blood curdling roar that built in strength around me until it reverberated through my [[bones]].

Braving the hallway was one thing, but I was NOT going downstairs. I scurried back to bed, jumped under the covers, and reached down for Rhea. She went back to happily licking my hand, and I shut my eyes tight to try and [[ignore the sound]].

It was too quiet. If they were just playing around downstairs, why wasn't there laughter? Why wasn't there shouting.



I got up.



[["Sally, is everything okay down there?"]]

<<timedgoto "im out" 4s>>

Justin finally stood once he was sure there would be no vomiting and no more fearful tears. Quickly, he dressed and checked his pockets for the condom wrapper, then the blood on his hands, lining up everything for the story in his mind. Justin was turned around, distracted, and [[had not noticed that there was considerably less blood on the log now]].

//Of course you’re always sad if all you do is engage in such grave business. Spend more time with your friends, do normal things. Just// [[choose|the irony]] //to be happy.//

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[[We sat down on her bed.]]

//[[Yes - I tried my best to search, it didn't go well. I ended up puking for the first time that day. I was in trouble.|proceed1]]//

As the school year progressed, Rose and I became very close. We would eat lunch together at the schoolyard and we made inside jokes that only we understood. It was like we were in our own little world, our own refuge. It was magnificent. It was glorious. It was perfection. The bullies didn't seem to bother us anymore. We were so enwrapped in our blissful world that we didn't pay any attention to outside noises. The bullying eventually stopped. [[I guess their thinking was that two outsiders could have each other.]] And that was perfect for us.

I've always been a heavy guy. Rollie, Pollie, Ollie. That's what kids at school called me. It didn't help that my name is Oliver. Oliver. Ha! Even the name sounds round. Round like an olive. Fat like an [[olive]].

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She whispered into his ear after his yelp.



“If you breathe one word of this to anyone, I take this away from you…” Alex paused. “Who am I kidding? You talk about what you saw at all and I'll have to kill you, do we understand?”



Justin nod