You’d be amazed at how many people have died in the most innocuous places.
“No motels. No inns, no beds no breakfasts — nobody stays here.”
“It’s not a baby in there, it’s a monster and when you go to sleep he climbs out and talks to me about blood.”
There were memories that I WANTED to forget.
She hoped that this holiday season would be the first one in ten years where the tree didn’t burn to the ground before Christmas Day.
“When I was a teenager, someone murdered a man, cut his body up, and drove it out to that tiny rural town and dumped the pieces down a hillside.”
“I was in the basement and felt a hand brush down my back. I jumped and turned and saw no one there. I convinced myself it was just my shirt moving weird. As I went up the steps I heard giggling.”
I woke up with marks on my wrists. Two vertical, red slashes on each side. They were written with sharpie, but meant to look like self-harm scars.
“I watched a kid kill himself at school. Gunshot to the head. He painted the wall behind him with his brains.”
Good luck ever trusting anyone again.