The Changing Room

I didn’t want to tell Dad about the changing room when I first found it. It was down in the basement, where I wasn’t supposed to be. Dad kept all of his scrap and spare parts from his odd jobs as the town fix-it man down there, he thought I’d get hurt. It was also... Continue Reading →

Need A Break?

Recently I compiled a list of my most wholesome horror stories on Reddit to offer a brief, heartwarming distraction from reality. Enjoy! Fran & Jock Man Up Ring Once Guardian Breed Papa G Bad Feeling My Lucky Charm The Past Repeats The O'Sullivan Song So Much Filler Guilty Secrets Cackling Grackles Infestation Lesson of The... Continue Reading →

Season of Red

A lot of people don’t remember that Christmas is rooted in fear. It’s been wrapped up in pretty packaging, given the face of a jolly bearded man, made to sound like jingling bells and the hoofbeats of eight tiny reindeer. But in my small Pennsylvania town, we remembered. We called the weeks leading up to... Continue Reading →

The Unfortunate

I’d been told and told and told not to take the path through the woods. It was a gnarled route of twists and turns, a slice of solid dirt cutting through deceptive swaths of peat that covered dark, swallowing depths. Nan warned me every morning before I left the house. “Don’t you leave the main... Continue Reading →

The O’Sullivan Song

My family came over from the old country only a generation ago. Gran waddled off the boat in 1954, nine months along and ready to drop Dad the moment she set foot on American soil. She had the courtesy to wait until Granddad got her to their apartment in the Irish quarter, at least. Despite... Continue Reading →

I Survived A YA Romance

I’d never been so certain of anything as I was in that moment. The first bell hadn’t rung yet and I was standing at my locker with Jade. I was still new to the school, an unfortunate position to be in for your senior year, and she was the only friend I’d managed to make.... Continue Reading →

Sometimes Even Mamas Make Mistakes

The first word that came to mind when I met Jeremiah Goodwin was small. He was a short man with close-cropped, pale hair and a hunched posture. He looked almost childlike sitting in the office chair, save for the fact that his hands were shackled to his waist. I’d been told it was for my... Continue Reading →

The Long Drop

Locals call it the Long Drop. It’s a half-mile of weathered steel that stretches across a river five hundred feet below. Built in the early 1930s, the bridge is still in use, although there have been attempts to close it. Even a few to destroy it full stop. It remains, though. The Long Drop has... Continue Reading →

Twelve Hands

I’ve been telling people for years to stay away from the bogs outside the village. They rarely listen. It’s not their fault, I suppose. We are a curious species by nature and when you hear a tale as unbelievable as that of Twelve Hands, you’re bound to want to try and see it for yourself.... Continue Reading →

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