For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…

May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

Room 319

Don’t get me wrong, I’m usually not a scared person. I have never been called a wimp or anything like that. I am just a curious person. That is why the room interested me so much. 319. It was something about that room that caught my attention, that and the fact that no person could open the door, even if they had the master key. The peephole always remained dark and from the exterior window it looked like any of the other three hundred and fifty rooms that the hotel contained, but the fact was, this room was still different.
It was the summer of 2010, when I started working at the hotel as a housekeeper. It wasn’t a job I was proud to say I had, but I was making more money than my friends who worked at the regular fast food joints, and the job would help me save some money before my first semester of college. I got the job easily because my uncle was friends with benefits with the housekeeping manager. It wasn’t something he told me, but I knew that was one of the reasons why she treated me so well, other than the fact that she was overall a nice person. I trained with Crystal, who had her good and bad days and would swear like a sailor, yet she was a good instructor and knew all the short cuts. It was she who had first informed me of the door. I remember we were in the room diagonal to it, finishing up a stay over. As we started to move down the hallway past it, something about it caught my eye. I wasn’t sure if it was because of the whiteness of the door and the fact that it held neither a scratch nor stain, or the fact that some kind of aura oozed forth from it. I stopped pushing the cart and stopped in front of it just staring as if I were in a trance.
“All the new workers do that. In time you’ll find yourself noticing it less and less.” Crystal said.
“You mean we don’t clean it?” I asked
“Wouldn’t be able to. It can’t be opened by any key.” she said.
“How long has that been happening?”
“Since the hotel has been built. They said when the builders put that door onto the room it has been closed ever since.”
I said nothing in return and followed her down the hallway to our next checkout, keeping the door in the corner of my eye.
The month flew by as if it hadn’t even existed and I picked up the job quickly enough that only after two days of training I was ready to be on my own. Crystal and I would talk occasionally while at work, but she stayed to herself and always had an orange headphone in her left ear. I grew a lot closer to another worker, Shelby. She was only a few years older than myself and worked the front desk. She had been here for two years and knew a lot more about the room, but then again she knew a lot about everything. I knew a person like her would be better to stay away from, but I was already looking for another job at the college and had an interview lined up. Shelby was the one who told me about the construction worker that went missing while working on the room. She had informed me that there was nothing wrong with the room when they first put the door on it, the strangeness actually occurred a week after the hotel opened. That an older employee named Tabitha had worked around the time of the workers disappearance, but Tabitha had left three days after Shelby had arrived, on account of the sound of a crying baby coming from behind the door. I was not able to find any records on the construction workers disappearance or any whereabouts regarding Tabitha.
The job repeated itself day after day, always the same, yet the door still remained an intrigue. They assigned me to the third floor so I was constantly around that door and I felt that it called to me. All of the other workers along with the guests would completely ignore the presence of the room as if it never existed, unless I would mention it and even then it was just another door to them. After a while I started hearing strange sounds coming from the other side of the door. At first it sounded like low grunts from some sort of animal, then a light rustling sound like dog nails running across the floor. The most recent sound occurred daily at eleven in the morning and no matter where in the hotel I stood, I could hear the rhythmic tapping that echoed through the deserted hallways right to my ears.
Another month passed and I thought so much about the door, it preoccupied my mind during the day and night. I would have the strangest of dreams, all of which included either the door in many different scenarios or landscapes, or of myself trying to open the door, but it always remained closed until one dream. I dreamt that when I turned the handle, it opened and there was a woman with messy medium black hair and dark sapphire eyes that pierced right into my own. As if she knew all my darker thoughts. I shivered as her pale hand shot up and gripped onto my forearm. I tried to release it, but she held fast onto it, and I was unable to force the door open for she held it just wide enough for half of her body to fit. As she held me in place not letting me forward or back, she had a great smile upon her face. I watched as the darkness from behind her began to move and these black shadow tentacles danced behind her body and up the white outer walls. A violent shiver rocked me awake and I hugged myself tightly.
The next day at work all I could think about was the door and my dream that even my work started to decline. Every time I tried to think about something else, the white image of the door would resurface back into my head with those shadowy limbs slowly seeping out from the cracks of the door. At eleven, I found myself, as if in a trance, standing before the door, listening to the quiet tapping upon the other side of it. I placed my palm flat against it and felt as if the wood shuddered against my touch. The tapping continued and I placed my right ear on the door, yet all the other sounds remained muffled and only the tapping was clear. I took my left hand and copied the same rhythm. All noises ceased and silence remained. In fear I removed myself from the door but I still remained only a few feet away from it. The sound of bolts being released echoed down the vacant hallway. The door slowly opened by itself, followed by a loud hiss of compressed air escaping from the cracks, and a low groan of old wood. I placed my right palm on the heavy door to force it open then took my first step into the murkiness of the room. The crisp smell of fresh water caused my lungs to take a deeper breath, only to reveal that of damp carpet mixed with the moisture of damp dirt and rocks. It took a while for my eyes to adjust and faint lights shined from unseen floating sources. I saw the shifting of movement in the distance yet it was difficult to tell exactly what it was. My right hand held open the white door of the room, while my left hand reached through the darkness trying to find the light switch that should have been on the wall but I was unable to feel anything. I knew then that it was no longer just one of the rooms. A bright light flickered on and shined brightly in my face. I covered my eyes while I peered through my fingers to see what was going to happen. In front of the light I began to see a stir of movement along the floor of the place, which seemed to be coated in a thin fog. I took a step further into the room and the sluggish movement scurried into a darker region on the floor, causing the fog to curl upwards. I took a step back.
“Hello.” I called, my voice bounced off the walls as if they were stone.
The creature that had been on the floor now rose slowly up on its hind legs, thick globs of sweat and fog rolled off its body. My eyes popped open at the sight of that undefinable figure and my heartbeat slammed against my breast. Subconsciously I whirled around and flung myself back through the open door, into the brightly lit hallway. My right hand no longer held onto the door, and I could hear the heavy door slam close, which shook the wall against my back. Air hissed from the cracks as the bolts locked back into place. I held onto my chest, taking deep breaths. All remained silent for five minutes except for my heavy breath, then all of a sudden the tapping started again from the other side. I turned away from the door and took off down the hallway towards the emergency stairwell and out of that hotel.
It has been twenty years since I had set a single foot back in that hotel. I know that I have the chance now. It took three hours to drive back to town and I did not bother to talk to any past friends, nor did I even check into the hotel. I already knew my room number and I knew that it needed no key. Around eleven, I walk through the sliding glass doors of the hotel and pass the unoccupied front desk, making my way swiftly to the elevator doors. The hallway is empty as usual and again the faint sound of knocking carries to my ears. I know that it knows. I feel as if I skip quickly to the door and there I lay my knuckles upon it, copying the same rhythm that I have known for years. The door slowly opens, only halfway this time and from out the darkness a pale hand creeps, palm upward.

Credit To – Sarah Prado
Credit Link –

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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

Why My Daughter Still Can’t Look at a Doll

When my daughter was seven we lived in a rented house in Meraux, Louisiana. It was an oddly designed house with one large room as living/kitchen/dining room. We were a fairly skeptical couple and when cabinets doors would open or close on their own, or objects crash suddenly in the sink or on the counter we figured the house must just be out of balance somehow. But it began to happen more often. One night while we were all four in the living room section, twenty feet away from us a heavy pot on the stove suddenly shot out across the room and hit the wall in full view of everyone. I don’t remember reacting strongly even to this, although none of us could come up with a good explanation. These things seemed to bother my daughter more than the rest of us, but I attributed this to her being a child. But one night my husband and son were on a camping trip. What I remember was that she went into her room and a few seconds later I heard her scream in absolute terror. She ran out of her room as I ran toward it, and when I asked her what happened she just said “my doll moved.” My mother had given her a doll that had belonged to my grandmother, a Bradley doll, made of fabric over stiff wire and a little creepy looking to begin with, with huge eyes and separate bendable fingers, fastened to a stand. She was incoherent for some time after that, then insisted that we go pick up her father and brother. Her fear was so tangible that they left the campout without any real argument. When she was calmer and we asked again what had happened, she said “Please, please don’t make me think about it.” She continued to say that for sixteen years if asked. A couple of years ago I mentioned it to her new husband and she said “All right, do you want me to tell you about it? ” Hell, yes, I said.

She said that when she went into her room, she felt an overwhelming feeling of malevolence – hate, evil – which she had felt to some extent before in that house, but now very intensely and felt strongly that it was coming from the doll. She said she tried to calm it, saying “Pretty doll.” The doll turned and kicked its leg at her violently. Those dolls have no real joints;it takes some force to bend them.

I completely believe it happened as she described, as she is not given to invention or exaggeration. Twenty years later she still said with real fear last winter when the subject came up, “Please don’t make me think about it.”

Credit To – Margaret

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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

Moths to a Flame

The young girl sits
She sits on the floor
Playing with her toys
Putting on grand performances

A voice calls her name
More voices join in
They chant it like a prayer

She has gained an audience
And they have no intention
Of letting the show end

Her imagination
Was a shimmering flame
Drawing in moths

She looks around the room
Light fractures
Across her vision

Through the cracks
Something moves

A wide smile
Appears on her face
Like moths to a flame
They will all burn

Credit To – KFHDay
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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt


Am I alive?
No my dear,
Never have been
As I told you
My realm is not for the living
Was once not enough?
Ah, you have forgotten
Every lifetime you forget
Once again I have come
I have come
To take you to the symphony
The music is starting
Can you hear it?
It calls for you
Time. to. go
We are missing the show
Hurry darling
For I am the bard
Waiting for my dancer
Take my hand
My patience grows short
Take my hand
Come along my darling
Dance with me
Never stop dancing
Dance until your feet blister
Dance until they bleed
Creating patterns on the floor
Paint the floor
There is no escape
Our souls have always been bound
And this dance is eternal
You can never escape your soulmate

Credit To – KFHDay
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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

Uninvited Guests

I’ve always hated my basement. The cold walls, the eerie shadows. It was always a pain having to go down there, but after the events that have unfolded recently, I will never step foot in that basement, or my house ever again.

It all started when I had to do a load of laundry. I hadn’t done one in about a week and I was running out of clean clothes. Like I said, I didn’t go down there very often, and when I did, I was always very unnerved. One thing that put me off most about that environment was a tiny door, no more than two feet high, made of old weathered looking wood, complete with a small brass knob. I’ve lived in this house for 11 years now, and since as long as I can remember that door has always given me a weird dark vibe.

As I hesitantly made my way down the creaky stairs with my laundry basket in hand, a stern look of determination on my face. I was down there for about ten minutes until I heard thumping sounds coming from upstairs. At first I put it off as nothing, but it didn’t stop and I quickly became suspicious. The noise started forming into a rhythm and I realized what it really was. Footsteps. I could hear them coming closer to the door leading downstairs. Then, slowly walking down them. I started to panic. Without anywhere to run, I hid myself between the drier and a pile of clothes in the corner of the room. From where I sat in the shadows I had a clear view of the stairs. I saw what looked like a man who was very tall, wearing a long black trench coat. The worst part about him however was his long, greasy, matted hair that hung from his head like rotting seaweed. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do. I thought my life might have ended right then and there in his hands. Fortunately, that was not the case. He slowly made his way down the steps and just stood there for a while. The tension was killing me. I was sweating bullets and I had to bite my tongue to keep myself from screaming. Then I noticed what he was doing. He was staring down at the little door in front of him. Then out of nowhere there was a scratching sound coming from the other side of the door. My heart was pounding. I was sure I had seen the doorknob turn. But before I could see the door open, the grotesque man knelt down in front of it, almost as if to greet what was entering from the other side. Still, over his shoulder, I could make out the door opening and something small and pale coming out of it. The man’s greasy head nodded at the sight of it. Then the strangest thing of all happened. A sound like nothing I’d ever heard before emanated from the thing in front of the door. The only way I cam describe it is like the scream of a cat mixed with the cry of a baby. The sudden noise made me jump. Luckily, they didn’t notice me. After it spoke, so did the man. In an extremely deep voice, he bellowed, “Yes, it shall be done”. The creature then let out a long drawn out cackle. It was the most horrible thing I had ever heard. At that moment the man started standing up and turning around. I ducked my head out of sight. I heard the man going back up the stairs the last thing I heard was the tiny door being closed.

I sat there for about an hour. Not moving. Not speaking. Just sitting in the all-absorbing silence. As soon as it felt right, I fled the house and jumped in my car. I had to get away. I spent the night at a cheap gritty motel on the edge of town. It wasn’t exactly four stars but it was better than remaining at my house. The next day I went back. I had to. When I arrived, everything looked normal, and it was. After making myself a cup of coffee, I went down to the basement. I opened the small door and peered inside shining my flashlight. Just like its always been, a rough concrete tunnel extending on what looked like forever. Even if I was brave enough, I was too small to fit in there and explore.

I moved out two days later. I just couldn’t stay there after my experience. To this day, I still don’t know who they were or what they wanted. But just from hearing them, I can imagine that the intentions of my uninvited guests were malevolent.

Credit To – Maxwell Glover

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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

The Trial

A few days ago I had a dream. Though this very same dream should not be considered different than any other, I would like to share the pain and uneasiness that it brought into the lasting hours of my fragile life.

I remember finding myself in a justice court in the middle of a trial, my own trial for that matter. The room was being illuminated by just some candle lights , which made it look very dark and dismal .The jury was composed of old people only , old man and old woman , all of them looking at me with a comforting smile on their faces . My mother and my father were the judges of this terrible court, I felt an anger towards them growing inside during the constant accusations they laid upon me. My lawyer got to be an old and heavy book , and on it I had laid my lasting hopes .

What crimes i had supposably commited was not clarified , for I had commited none that I could recall , but what really matters is the terrible sentence I got, for I had no evidence to make myself free of this .

“Your penalty for being guilty “, began the judges, speaking both at the same time , “shall be the worst thing a living organism , self-conscious of itself , could possibly be sentenced to . That means that you, o you wretched fool , shall seize to exist in every way possible” . At first I could not see much in it, but then , for my great infortune , they continued to speak .

“You shall never more be able to think, to talk, to feel, nor to have expectations of any kind. The sentence you are doomed to have no place for love nor hate ; good and bad are not even words in it , for words have no existence from the moment you enter the void. All things you have done are simply forgotten actions, and all the things you could have done shall never be .You, o miserable convict of the void, shall never be again. Infinity is what awaits thee, an infinity of nothing, absolute nothing.”

By this time a feel of desperation took over my body, there was nothing to be done, nothing to be said that could save me from this horrible damnation. The jury was no more to be found, and in their places stood tombstones covered with flowers .In a desperate try to evade my awful fate, I ran out of the court with my book-lawyer in my hands, only to come, when I slammed the door open , before a crowd of little children holding knifes, waiting for me outside on the street . There were hundreds of them, I tried to go back but the door was locked now. “There`s no need for this”, I`ve screamed at them, “just leave me alone!”. One little girl came closer to me, and slowly whispered at my ear: “the new generation must bathe upon the blood of the old” .While she said this, I felt her knife going through my stomach, and when I saw the little bastards coming at me with anger in their eyes, I woke up with my heart pumping like hell, and my hospital bed all covered in sweat .

I was most relieved to be back to reality. All that talk about seizing to exist and damnation to an eternity of nothing really got me terrified and all .Though it was over, my thoughts wandered on the subject. Now I got that desperate feeling again, it disturbs me every single day, and I`m in constant fear of having to face emptiness. For the Void might be as real as anything else can be, only time separates us all from it; and when time runs out, we shall all face the possibility of a never ending nothingness.

Credit To – Tom

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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

Clear Skies

Is there anything better then a nice summer day? A warm but not too hot, bright but not blinding day? A day that is just begging to be Enjoyed and if you didn’t, if you sat inside and played Minecraft all day long, you will surely regret the life your led when you lay on your death bed. This is one of those days.
The ball park is busy as it usually is during the late spring to mid summer; full of children, ages 6-13, playing Americans favorite past time as the parents of these children, and myself, watch. I watch from my bike though, riding from Ball field to Ball field in a lousy attempt at exercise, but a lousy attempt is better then my usual no attempt, especially on a day like this.
I do often worry sometimes, being the age i am, 19, and looking the way i do, “someone who will be arrested for pedophilia whether i fondled the girl or not” as my beloved friend likes to put it. Isn’t that how most people my age pick up young chicks? Offering candy or a ride on their bike? I can see it in some parents eyes as i do laps around the park, passing their field for the umpteenth time, feeling that every time i do i have my eyes on their little girl, and that im just waiting for my moment to strike. There is something else putting me on edge today besides the seeming eyes of all the parents.
Have you ever seen a clear sky? like completely clear, not a cloud insight? People say its wonderful, just adding to the beauty of the summer day, but for me it has just never felt right. When i look to the skies and see the clouds, every so often blocking the warmth of the sun, i know it is just business as usual. When i look up though and see nothing but an ocean of solid blue above me, it sets me on edge, like something has come by and taken the clouds away. Like the Devil himself has finally made his strike against Heaven and has vanquished all the Angles who populate it.
Heaven is gone and all we see are perfect clear skies, but, it’s inly the calm before the storm.
Credit To – cpreviews
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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

Six Below

“Are you sure your parents don’t know you snuck out?” Kane asked.
“Quite sure, don’t worry ‘bout them. What’s this for?” I asked, motioning toward the five gallon bucket of warm water sitting on my side of the floorboard of his “antique” F-350.
“You’ll see soon enough, for now just make sure none of it spills. I’m going to need as much as I can get.”
“Okay…” I closed my legs around the bucket to keep it from sloshing around while he flew down the gravel road, seemingly purposefully, hitting every pothole he could.
I looked out the window at the late night stars; I loved how the countryside seemed to have an infinitesimal amount of stars, due to the fact that there was very little light pollution. I always loved looking for constellations in the sky jumping from Orion to the Big Dipper to Fornax and finishing on Draco. They were all so motionless and glittery, but my science teacher told me that the light we see from the stars is millions of years old; all of the lights that we see are long dead… just like the wishes we make. It was disappointing really, but at the same time no wish I ever made on the stars really seemed to come true, slowly, I came to realize that he was right. I still liked to look at them, though, they reminded me of the all the wishes I did make as a kid, and how much my life has changed since.
“Are you praying to the stars again?” Kane interrupted my train of thought; he always made fun of me when I stared at the stars.
“No, just looking. Nothing better to do except watch the water slosh around.” I answered sarcastically.
“Nothing to talk about is there? There never is, I’m just a space-filler believe me I know you only keep me around to hook you up with these parties, you know they aren’t your friends, they just pretend to be, because of who you are.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean, you’re so much better than me at everything, even though before you moved here I was the best; I was the MVP on the football team; I was top of the class; I was Class President, and not to mention I was the one everyone sat with at lunch. I lost all of my reputation when you moved here, everyone just liked you more, I never understood how, though.
“Kane…What are you talking about?”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about! You took everything from me when you moved here! Why can’t you just go back where you came from?”
“It wasn’t my fault I moved here. I didn’t know you felt that way. I’m just doing my part to make this place better and I don’t like it here anymore than you like me being here, apparently. Why didn’t you tell me you felt like this, I thought we were friends…?”
“We are… I just… I don’t know. I hate how I lost it all to you when you came here. I don’t like feeling like a lost dog, following you around. I used to be the king of our school and when you came along I was demoted, it just… sucks.”
“I’m sorry, if I had it my way I never would have moved here.” With that we both went silent; I couldn’t tell if he was truly angry or just a little upset.
After a few minutes I realized the road wasn’t familiar. During our argument, I must have failed to notice where he was headed.
“I thought we were going to Sam’s for her birthday?”
“We are she just moved it… she’s having it in a pasture, we’re almost there.”
“It’s -6 outside, why are we having it in a pasture? Is she trying to kill us?”
“Maybe…we will only be there for a little bit don’t worry, she just wanted all of us to meet in one spot, so we could follow her to her house. She didn’t want to have to give directions to a shit-ton of people.”
“Oh, Okay.” Something seemed wrong, he changed his story twice, but then again, this night was just weird all together. I just wanted to go home.
Within a few minutes Kane announced our arrival, told me to bundle up because he couldn’t get his truck down where we were meeting. He got out, unlocked the gate, and pulled into the pasture, told me to grab the bucket and said we would trade it off when our arms got tired. He grabbed the flashlight, waited on me to get situated, and we headed down the grassy path into the woods.
“I don’t understand why we didn’t just stay back there and meet, and why was no one else’s car there?”
“It’s all Sam’s idea, you know how she gets, and I don’t know we must be the first ones here… good for us.”
“No, not good, it’s flipping cold out here.”
“Oh, stop whining we won’t be out here long, it’ll only get colder anyways.”
“Can we trade now? My arms are getting tired.”
“Sure, we are about halfway there either way.”
I set the bucket down and he handed me the flashlight.
With that, we set off down the path again.
“Almost there.” Kane said after a few minutes.
We came out of the woods and into a clearing; there was a small pond and flat grassy area on the other side of the pitiful body of water.
“We’re meeting over there.” He pointed at the grassy area, particularly at the logs that were laid out.
We headed toward the clearing I was lighting the way, Kane had the bucket, and I couldn’t help myself I had to get close to the pond and look out over the brackish water, it didn’t look very deep, but I was pretty sure that if someone swam in it that the moment they set foot on the bottom the mud would suck them in.
“Hold on, my arms are getting tired.” Kane said and set the bucket down.
“Come on, we don’t have much farther to go.”
“Easy for you to say. Why don’t you carry the bucket the rest of the way?”
“Okay, fine by me.”
I handed him the flashlight and turned to get the bucket. Suddenly, I felt a blunt pain in the back of my neck and heard a soft heavy noise echo inside my skull when I bent over. I fell face first into the pond with a vignette forming at the edges of my vision. I was temporarily numb and disoriented, but as soon as the ice hit my face and I heard it crack, I scrambled back up the bank.
When I finally clawed my way back to the bank, Kane was there standing above me. He had the bucket in one hand and the flashlight in the other. He looked at me in a pitiful way for a few second then overturned the bucket of warm water onto my head.
I immediately collapsed back onto the ice, slowly losing feeling all over my body; I could almost see the blue pigment replacing my skin in the starlight. I fell back and laid flat hearing the ice crack and melt around my frozen body. I looked back toward the bank and saw Kane standing with the flashlight and, now empty, bucket in hand.
So cold
“You took my life, consider this your rent, but with interest.”
I thought he looked like he was crying, but before I could be sure he turned and walked out of sight.
So cold
As the last of the ice under me broke away from my body, looked skyward at my stars, all of them, all their light, dead, just like my wish, the only one I ever had. I just wanted to be successful.
So Cold
I plunged in and the ice rested back into place above me as I floated in the freezing water. I continued to look skyward through the ice the stars looked so much more beautiful this way.
So Cold
“I’m sorry.” I whispered and my vision went black as I choked on my own icy words.
Credit To – M.T. Swift

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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt

The Drop

Skydiving is pretty fun. I mean, it’s definitely an acquired taste, and surely not for the faint of heart, but it’s pretty damn fun. The wind screaming past you, the world looming closer and closer, the excitement building in your chest as adrenaline chases through your mind, dopamine pulsates across the synapses in your brain, and then at just the right moment you grab the cord of the parachute and your body is jerked upwards in a deft, swift movement that saves you from plummeting to your demise. You might feel dizzy now, but for the adrenaline-junkies of today, it’s nothing new.
I remember the first time I went skydiving with my dad and my older sister. My dad was a retired stuntman, he’d grown too old for the job, and he had broken one too many bones. I was fourteen, and one day he turned to me in the car with a huge grin on his face.
“Mikey,” he said, his bright grey eyes flashing with mischief, and his salt-and-pepper hair whipping his face as air tore through the open window.
“Yeah, dad?” I had asked, glancing up from my phone.
“We should go skydiving.”
Now, at first I had completely disagreed, but once my older sister, Violet, volunteered my place, I jumped to the opportunity. But who wouldn’t do anything to one-up their sibling? My father, of course, admitted the both of us, thinking it would be a good bonding experience.
So, two weeks later we found ourselves on a tiny plane, all crammed in one seat as one of the men with us told us how the parachutes worked, and who would be going with us. Before I knew it, I had my camera in hand and I was strapped in front of a thirty-something-old man, waiting for the go. My heart was thundering in my chest, and I waited, looking to my right, where my sister Violet and her partner stood. She looked completely terrified. I waited, and just as my heart calmed itself, they jumped.
Skydiving soon became a ritual with my father and I. Violet had hated it, so we both continued our perilous adventures into the troposphere. We jumped on my graduation day, we jumped on my wedding (with my reluctant wife, Danielle), and finally, I prepared to take one last venture. My father had died of a heart attack at sixty-seven. It was too early.
My friend and skydiving partner Vance patted my back as I stepped into the plane hangar. I gave Danielle a kiss on the cheek, and turned to him.
“Well, Mikey?” he asked, “what’ll it be this time?”
“One last jump,” I smiled, “for dad.”
Vance nodded his head solemnly, and we boarded the plane, two crew members and the pilot following with. I secured my parachute over my shoulders, and they started the plane. I poked my head through the window, and called down to Danielle,
“I’ll see you on the ground, Dani!”
She beamed and waved as the plane started off. I looked outside. It wasn’t a very good day for flying, the clouds were quite low to the ground, and despite the sun peeking through them once in a while, it wasn’t very bright. We flew up high, and I felt my ears pop uncomfortably. I sat back, and Vance grinned at me.
“You know what to do,” he said, “I’ll follow right after you.”
I nodded, and waited until we got a little bit higher up. The clouds were dense where we were in the sky, but I could see the ground very faintly below myself. As we flew along the ground, I took a breath.
“What do you think, Vance?” I asked, smiling a little bit.
“Yeah?” he asked.
“Do you think my dad would be happy that I’m doing this for him?” I looked up at him. Vance nodded.
“I think he’d be very happy.”
Suddenly, something hit the plane. I gasped, pulling away from the open door before I could tumble out. Vance looked around in surprise.
“Did you hear that?” I breathed. He frowned and nodded, poking his head into the main cabin, speaking to the pilots. The plane was hit again, this time, harder, and I saw a brief flash of black near the wing. My heart skipped a beat. I ran up to the window, looking around in fright. Suddenly, there was a scream of metal as something scratched slowly and meticulously along the top. I covered my ears, crying out as the jarring sound tore across the roof of the plane. Vance ran from the main cabin, grabbing the door and trying to pull it shut.
“What’s going on?! What is that?!” I asked, my heart racing.
“We’re going down. It’s not safe up here,” he gasped.
“But what is that thing?” I asked. Vance looked straight into my eyes, and I saw a terrified look in them. He pulled the door closed, and the plane moved forward through the air. There was a horrible crash as, in the main cabin, a window shattered. We both ran into the room, and the pilot was screaming, clutching his neck. Huge shards of glass stuck out from nearly every part of his body. He gasped, pointing desperately at the controls of the plane. Vance cried out in terror, taking over for the pilot.
“We have to jump,” he said.
“What the hell is that thing, Vance?!” I cried, “are we under attack?!”
“Just trust me! Jump, like our original plan!”
Vance stood and grabbed my shoulders.
“I am going to land this fucking plane, Mikey, and you are going to jump right now. I don’t care what you think, or what you want, or even what you’re afraid of. Go.”
I pulled away from him, and I ran back to the door of the plane. I heard another crash, and the plane rocked dangerously. I grabbed the handle of the door and pulled it open, my entire body shaking. I was nearly swept out as the wind met me, and I grabbed the handle of the door, making sure my parachute was secure. My heart pounding, I looked behind myself one last time, and then leapt from the plane.
I never saw what was attacking the plane, but I did see the explosion, and I watched as huge pieces of the plane streaked towards the ground almost as fast as I did. I saw the great plume of smoke as the body of the plane plunged downward. We both skydived, but I pulled on the cord of my parachute, and landed safely.
I never told the news agencies about what had happened on the plane. I said that I had jumped, and seconds later, the plane exploded. I never told my family, nor my closest friends. I will never tell anyone of what happened, and I trust that you won’t, either. Maybe someone will believe my story. Maybe someone won’t. Perhaps, all of you won’t. I don’t care. However you perceive it, I have no answers for you of what that thing was. I lay in bed at night, wondering over and over, pondering. I hope whatever it was, that it won’t come after me. I don’t know.
On the other hand, I know I will never skydive again.

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May 2, 2015
by derpbutt


I wake up to the sound of rain pounding against my windows, the clock reads 2:47am. I groan then roll over and try to go back to bed. As I try to fall asleep, I listen to the sound of the rain, but I slowly become aware of another noise. I hear the rain, but I also hear a scratching sound. It’s too dark to see anything so I don’t dare open my door to see what it is. I pull the covers over my head and desperately try to sleep. The scratching gets louder, it’s almost as loud as the rain. Panicked, I get up and make my way to my bedroom door. I grope for the handle, when I find it, I quickly lock it. I stumble back to my bed, now feeling a little safer. I can’t stop picturing some hideous monstrosity, ready to rip me to pieces, lurking just on the other side of the door. The scratching goes on all night, I hardly get any sleep. I’m so terrified of what I may find when the sun rises. After what seems like an eternity the scratching stops. In the morning, I get out of bed, prepared to face whatever may still be in my house. I suddenly freeze, I am filled with terror as I gape at my bedroom door….the scratches are on the inside.

Credit To – Lindsey P.

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