The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

There are beings not of this world. They call themselves “The Sumi”. Now that you know – they also know of you. During WW2, Nazi medium Maria Orsitsch made the first (recorded) successful telepathic contact with them. After years of communication at the behest of her SS superiors she was abruptly taken in 1945 and never seen or heard from since. It has become clear that they view us as little more than lab rats to be studied from afar through means unknown to us, possibly powerful psychic abilities or technology unheard of to date. Anyone who knows about them is now considered a threat to their “tests” and someone or something will be sent after you. In less than a day, you’ll start experiencing the sensation of not being alone anymore, anywhere. As it gradually homes in on your location through time and space you’ll start to catch its reflection or see its blurred outline becoming gradually clearer over the course of a week. After that it’ll start making physical entry into

The clock stared at me with its red eyes, shouting to me that he would arrive soon. He always comes at the witching hour. Of course I didn’t know that the witching hour was three in the morning till I told my friend about my night time wanderer. The witching hour is the time of night when God is at his weakest and all the imps and minions come out. This man was obviously not a three horned demon, nor was he an evil servant of the devil. He looked old, and lonely. I felt bad for him. He was probably homeless with no family or friends to speak of. Every night he’s there, just sitting in our backyard. Every night I want to go outside and talk to him, but I can’t seem to work up the courage. He just sits on the tire swing, muttering to himself. He looks so lonely. Luckily I have no trees near my window, or anything that could block my view of him. My friend says it’s a trap to lure me outside. He says that a little kid like me isn’t thinking straight this late at night, so obv

It was early Sunday afternoon, my parents were at church leaving me home all by myself. They were devout Christians, yet I’m not. Sometimes they even try to get me to go, but it bores the crap out of me and I’m just not a believer. So here I am, laying on my bed, laptop resting on my stomach and headphones in my ears. I wasn’t doing anything in particular, just browsing some of the new uploads from IGN, Jompa, basically anything to pass the time. Then I saw a video that stood out to me. LA Beast eating a cactus. That seemed really interesting, but before I could click it, I got a Skype call. It was my friend Nick. “What’s going on, cocksucker?” I asked as my standard greeting to all my friends. There was a faint sound in the background that I couldn’t help but notice. It kinda sounded like someone was screaming. A woman. “Ughh.. What’s that noise?” “Why do you look so calm!? Don’t you even know what’s going on?!” He answered, looking jittery. Every few seconds he would take a look to h

Mommy told me never to go in the basement, but I wanted to see what was making that noise.  It kind of sounded like a puppy, and I wanted to see the puppy, so I opened the basement door and tiptoed down a bit.  I didn’t see a puppy, and then Mommy yanked me out of the basement and yelled at me.  Mommy had never yelled at me before, and it made me sad and I cried.  Then Mommy told me never to go into the basement again, and she gave me a cookie.  That made me feel better, so I didn’t ask her why the boy in the basement was making noises like a puppy, or why he had no hands or feet.

I guess I have moved on enough to tell this story. One night, while I was preparing dinner, I left my mom to sit on the rug and watch T.V. My daughter, Ariel, was 7 months old at that time, and was sleeping upstairs in her crib. When I left the kitchen to invite my schizophrenic mom for dinner, she wasn’t in the living room. I heard her voice, cheering upstairs. When I got there, I saw her in the bathroom, clapping and cheering at the bathtub that was overflowing with water. “Go Ariel! Go find Prince Eric!” --- by reddit user  badfakesmiles  

I was going crazy looking for this story and I finally found it. It’s pretty short and it will FREAK you out. ONE of the best stories I’ve read in a long time. It was the 2nd of January, 2:04 AM. I woke up to a knocking on the door. One knock every 3 seconds. I slipped on my slippers and walked down the stairs. As I walked down, the knocking on the door got faster, almost like a heartbeat. When I got to the door, the knocking stopped, I looked outside and nobody was there. I went back up to my room and went back to bed, thinking it was just some kids playing a prank. At 4:21 AM I woke up to the front door slamming shut. I jumped, terrified. I looked over at my frosted window to find “smile” written all over it in the frost. I grabbed my phone next to me, ready to call 911, only to find a message written on it saying “I told you to smile”. I cried and ran for my life running outside. As soon as I got outside I knocked on my neighbors house across the road. They answered and held me whil

I was out in my garden, taking the washing off the line. It was late, after 6PM; I’d been watching TV all day and had forgotten all about it. I had just pulled the last few socks from their pegs and dropped them into the basket, reaching down to pick it up and carry it back into the house. I looked up and suddenly stopped. There, standing in the middle of the patio, was a man; a tall man, gaunt and looking slightly odd, though I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what. He wore an old-fashioned grey suit with scuffed grey shoes. He stared at me, his face expressionless. Over the initial surprise, I stiffened up and asked, “Can I help you?” He did not reply, standing motionless before me. His lack of reply made me nervous; I asked again, a bit more insistently, “Can I help you?” Again he said nothing, his expression unchanging. I stepped forward, placing the basket on the iron table that we used for barbecues during the summer, then moved closer to him. “You’re trespassing. If you have no

The voices in my head stopped. For a few weeks, every time I’d close my eyes, I’d hear them. Whispering evil, sinister things. Threatening me. Tonight, the voices in my head stopped. They’re under my bed now. – Credits to:  http://80-ash-d.tumblr.com/

Timmy tried his hardest to blow out the fifteen flickering candles. He huffed and puffed…but to no avail. He glanced at his mother who had spent hours slaving away to bake the beautiful cake, and her expression made him feel unbearably guilty. Timmy’s mother stared sadly at the unyielding flames that barely faltered in the face of Timmy’s feeble attempts to snuff them out. She blinked a few times and the first tears started falling down her face. Whispering “Happy Birthday, Timmy,” she summoned a gust of wind and the dancing lights dissipated into puffs of smoke. Timmy didn’t understand why he couldn’t do that. It happened every year: his mother baked a perfect cake, he failed to blow out the candles, and she cried. The only thing that changed was the number of candles. Timmy went to go hug his mother…but to no avail. He merely drifted through her, and he didn’t understand that either. -- by reddit user zenryhao

When we are speaking of the supernatural, of the disturbing, of the grotesquely weird and disgusting, we consider only the monsters themselves. We see the twitching limbs and sharp teeth, the death and the despair, and the heart-stopping terror of the moment of death. We rarely look past this, into the real question and mystery. I could spend all day debating back and forth about any number of spooky topics, but I want to take a moment to discuss something else. Recently I was going through a dusty old corner shop near where I live. It’s a small antique business, and I’ve found a couple jewels there before, and for bargain prices. The old man who runs the place doesn’t know the difference between an old piece of junk and an arcane artifact. I take advantage. But what I found there on this day was a stack of old books stacked haphazardly on the counter, as if they had been tossed down without a second thought. I started going through the pile, expecting to find a few old story books, m