Is there an opportunity for the production of a Black Ken to help Black parents and their children understand why Blacks shoot infants, sucker punch the elderly, and murder each other? The ‘Black Karen’ Obama aint doing it, the Oprah aint doing it, and the Black community sure aint doing it.

Like, some of them actually give their stories titles at the start. :/

A couple of my friends worked for a while in theatre in London everyone said was haunted by a WW2 era stage hand. He wasn’t killed in an on site accident, he apparently died elsewhere during the Blitz but loved his work so much that he went back to the theatre and kind of stayed there. I thought that was really sweet.

I don’t know when that person was active. This did happen a few years ago, so maybe. I suppose I could look these things up but I honestly am kind of afraid to google too much. I’m already freaked out enough just sharing this story. Cowardly as that may seem.

See, the thing is, they’re *supposed* to help around the house and stuff. It doesn’t. It takes what offered (milk & cookies, mostly), but other than that, it’s just there. Now if it was actually doing its job, THAT would be cool!

I love stories that end with “They said a small prayer and the ghost/spirit/tormented soul left.” I’ll try to remember that if I’m ever visited by the paranormal. 

For real. Nobody cares about the layout of the house, and it will NOT “be important, later”.

I must confess up front this is not particularly scary - but it is definitely ghostly. It just involves my father - the sweetest man ever - so how scary is that?! Lol. I grew up in the country on a farm with horses. Since we were so remote, and the driveway to my childhood home so long, my parents had installed a…

Exactly. Ghostos before psychos.

My childhood trick-or-treating neighborhood was fantastic. Safe, very few cars, generous neighbors, and lots of spooky darkness with houses set way back on half-acre lots with long driveways. On Halloween 1989, I looked forward to our standard costumed candy collection foray. I set forth with a pillowcase, my sister,…

Teenagers sharing secrets and cavorting late at night produce their own kind of energy. Riley and I were on the same wavelength, but Katie’s wholesome energy evened out our jaded sarcasm nicely, and we spent a lot of time as a trio.

See, things like this are legitimately freaking terrifying because there is no actual conclusion. I like to believe they aren’t in immediate danger (as far as anyone knows), but hooboy.

I desperately want to sell my house and move up to the mountains, but stuff like this is going to keep me in town. 

Or the rest of the month...

Your sulky, unhappy thing seems cool as hell. Like your own personal Eeyore who steals hazelnut syrup.

Hooray! Mine’s not-so-scary, so you can read it while your underwear is in the wash:

So, here I go again. I actually submitted this last year, but late, and it got lost in the shuffle. The thing is, I don’t know if people will think its that scary. I only want to share because it is 100 percent true, and the lack of scares will be entirely due to me not being a particularly good story teller. This did…

Huzzah! I have lots of free time lately while working from home, I shall read a good number of the submissions and ALL THE WINNERS AND STUFF.

Ahhhhh so freaking excited! I really need this, people.

This happened to me a few years ago, and I still get chills every time I think about it.

OMG Finally, I’ve been reading old posts to GET HYPE!!