“Those are some nasty bite marks,” said the E.R. Nurse. She swabbed a cotton ball soaked in alcohol up and down my neck, cleaning off the bloodstains. It seared with pain, but I barely cringed.
Logan wasn’t a great student, but that fact never really seemed to bother him.
Apparently their activities managed to open a “portal to hell,” which summoned Satan himself as well as a “gatekeeper” of sorts known as “The Shadow Man.” Legend states that the Shadow Man still patrols the tunnels.
It was almost a perfect circle and bigger than I’d first thought — just a bit bigger than a softball.
There was nothing I enjoyed more than cycling on the bike path along the river. Being the creature of habit that I was, I never strayed from the northbound trail. Yesterday, however, I was feeling adventurous, and went south instead. It was a mistake that I will never repeat.
“Sleep is as close to death as we get.”
Last week, a pdf was sent to me from an email address I didn’t recognize, which isn’t uncommon in my line of work. Strangers send me scary stories and bizarre documents on an almost daily basis and I encourage it. But the pdf in question was unlike anything I had ever been sent and I decided that the only way to properly convey its effect would be to simply let you read it for yourself.
My daughter was sleeping when the convulsions started.
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.