The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

The Intruder is a silhouette and similar in shape to a Siamese cat. When sitting, it is about 7.5 feet tall. It has two overly large, slanted eyes, which glow a bright fluorescent green, and have no pupils. It blinks these eyes occasionally. Other than the eyes, it has no other discernible facial or body features. Whenever you enter your home after dark, The Intruder is always watching. It sits about 10 feet away from you in plain view. It remains immobile and does not even try to conceal its presence. While outside, It can only be seen by one person at a time. If it were to be within the sight range of two people then the first person who sees The Intruder would remain being able to see it while it would remain completely invisible to others. It emits no noises of its own. The only time it can be heard is when it is stretching its claws on a tree or your house siding. If you approach it then it will run away very quickly and violently, kicking up dirt and rocks. The sounds o

In this world exists a spirit neither male nor female. This spirit is covered with a dark cloth with a separate white cloth to cover it’s head. It is said to carry an enormous brown burlap sack in which to hold it’s victims in. It is said the second it’s name has been called out, either directly or indirectly, the person is collected and is property of the spirit. Many who have witnessed its appearance have been said to have gone insane with their eyes gouged out. This spirit is very, very real and failure to not mention it’s name will cause Candlejack to come whisk you away

I’m posting this tonight in the hope that it will clear up the misunderstandings surrounding the disappearance of Debra Lindsay Caine, at the risk of my personal ridicule. Sticks and stones and all that. None of it will matter after tonight. Consider this my one pathetic attempt at an apology, if nothing else. It’s sort of my fault what happened. Even in her heyday, internet blogger Sugarcaine was just another web comedian. She was funnier than average and certainly skilled with a pen, but otherwise no more remarkable than the rest. For years the circumstances surrounding her disappearance were only occasionally mentioned, and only in the most obscure threads on a couple of forums. She would’ve been forgotten forever if those city workers hadn’t found the tape recorder last Monday. Sugarcaine’s true identity was a boyishly cute redhead named Debra Lindsay Caine. Her sister Payton described her as, “…a bag fulla fists, nails, and opinions just looking for an excuse to burst open on som

Look behind you. What do you see? Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that line up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but make sure you are clear on wh ere this particular spot is. That spot contains all the negativity in your mind.  Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked. What do you do when this happens? You check behind you, that’s what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you. Check the spot. Nothing again, huh? That’s because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind. Some people, upon learning of this “negative spot” resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake. You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy.  Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling o

The Little Witch of Pilot’s Knob is a strange and scary legend surrounding a young girl who was buried in a concrete grave in Marion, Kentucky. Years ago, back in 1916, a woman named Mary Louise Ford and her five year old daughter, Mary Ellen Ford, were living in Pilot’s Knob. Both mother and daughter were accused of being witches and the superstitious villagers were too terrified to wait and bring them to trial. Instead, they dragged the mother and daughter out of their house and burned them alive at the stake. They buried the mother’s body somewhere else, but they were afraid that the little witch girl would come back from the dead in search of revenge. So the fearful villagers made sure they took precautions to protect themselves. They buried her right there in Pilot’s Knob in a steel reinforced coffin. After they lowered it into her grave, they filled it in with concrete. Then they put gravel all over the top and built a metal fence all around the grave site. The fence was made fr

You’ll think I’m crazy. Or just some idiot trolling online. I don’t care. Something happened to me and whether or not you believe me is moot, because it happened to me. It happened. I don’t want to tell you my name. It doesn’t matter anyway, because you won’t believe me and I don’t want people thinking I’m insane. But maybe my telling will mean something to someone. Maybe this has happened to you too and I’m not just imagining things. God, I really hope I’m just imagining things. I visit my grandparents every summer. They live in Eastern Europe, in one of those tourist cities where the capital draws in people from all over the world. They live in an old, faded-yellow apartment building. There’s an elevator that I have to take to get to their floor; the eighth floor. It’s one of those old elevators that most people would probably think wasn’t very safe. The ones where you walk in and it’s super tiny, like just big enough to hold four skinny people if they don’t mind a cuddle. While the