Police tape was draped across the entrance to the parking garage and two officers in full riot gear were stationed beside it. I rolled down my window and asked them what had happened.
“Do you believe in God?” she asked.
Are these spirits messing around, or is this something more sinister?
The door is a good inch or two off the ground so I bent down to see if there was someone standing at our door or the one across the hall. When I was eye level with the crack I saw a pair of boots facing our door.
Real or fake?
We were finally getting a baby and afterwards, she could disappear for all I cared.
As soon as I realized that what I have, in a third-world country, is something senseless, selfish and superficial, yes, but more so something praised for its self-discipline and commonalities with Mary-Kate Olsen, I stopped talking about it. I refuse to be lauded for this disorder.
I was a youth leader at a christian youth camp. It was during a worship session.
We are so scared to go back to scary feelings that we avoid them and stop living life how it should be lived: with reckless abandonment.
Turn off the lights, put on headphones, and forget about sleeping.