I was walking home one day from school as usual, but when I reached my neighborhood nothing was right. Nothing was where it should be. I was caught in a maze. An endless maze in my own neighborhood. I was there for days, yet no one was there. The shadows, the darkness kept growing, coming closer, consuming. I awoke from this dream, no, this nightmare all the time.

I woke last time shrouded by darkness, gazing at the vague outline of my room. I didn't want to close my eyes. I didn't want to sleep in fear that the nightmare would return. However, I did sleep and the nightmare did return, like it always does.

This has been happening for so long I don't remember when it started. I do remember however that I was young. I was still in elementary school (third grade I think.) Back then I was able to return home, but the maze kept getting more complicated.

There is something wrong with the couch.

Well, that’s not entirely truthful. There’s something wrong with the right side of the couch. It wasn’t like this when I got it, and I should know- it was the first new piece of furniture I’ve ever purchased. After slumming it for years like the starving college student I was, I had felt as though I were cementing my actual adulthood by purchasing a comfortable, non-lumpy, brand-new piece of living room furniture.

Unlike my second-hand couches of the past (which were covered with bedsheets to protect guests from the phantom butt-residue and very real old food stains of their previous owners), my new, three-seated suede couch (with bonus storage drawers built into the bottom!) was mine to unwrap from the box, crinkling plastic and styrofoam in my hands with glee.

Four years ago, my family moved from the city. We couldn’t take the fast-paced life, and we were a wealthy and well educated family… so we figured we would move somewhere remote and peaceful.

Hayabi Forest, western part of Maine is where we settled. Now, in our family, we had me, the oldest son. Then you had my father, my mother, one brother, and one sister.

Things were always fine around here, we lived off the land and life was great, but then everything changed, and it wasn’t for the better. Oh god, it was horrifying, I’m alone now... It… it GOT them and I’m sure I’m next. So to whoever reads this story… I hope you never stay here… It will get you too.

Today is two days away from the anniversary of my niece's death. No one knows how she died except her mother, who passed away recently, and me. I do not know who to tell but I need to tell someone. No one would believe me anyway, they'd lock me up like they locked up my sister. I wouldn't blame them. I hardly believe what happened myself.

Bethany was going to be ten years old the day after Christmas, the year she died. She still believed in Santa. I thought she was too old for that shit but her parents thought it was cute. They did everything they could to keep her from realizing it was just a lie.

Think of your favorite Hollywood actress, past or present. Almost anyone will do. No matter who you think of, chances are she has a secret. No, I'm not talking about her skincare regimen, or her hairstylist, or whatever crazy diet she might be on. I mean, sure. Lots of glamorous Hollywood types do those things, but many---more than you would think---don't need to go through the trouble. They literally "wake up like that," more or less, and it's all because they get a little bit of help from Red Helen.

Who's Red Helen? You might be thinking?

In the year of our Lord, 1587, celebration filled the spring air for the good people of Roanoke Colony. Winter had been unyielding once again, and the menace of war with the Spanish had severed much-needed replenishment of goods and supplies. As one of England’s earliest endeavors at the establishment of a permanent settlement in the Americas, they were truly isolated. Tested was their resolve of heart and faith in God. Eventually, the days grew longer, and the last of the snow had melted. Come spring; none of the one hundred and seventeen colonists had perished and in fact, the valiant people were thriving and prospering in this brave new world.

For most children, Christmas is a celebration worth looking forward to. For thirteen-year-old Evan, it was something to fear.

Evan still remembered his seventh Christmas Eve clearly, an evening that he, like most children, had been looking forward to for a long time. The next morning he would get up early and open all his presents, eager to see what surprises Santa had left him. Evan imagined the restless night ahead and thought, if he listened hard, he might be able to hear Santa come down the chimney.

But this Christmas Eve didn't all go to plan. It wasn't long before Evan's excitement gave way to horror.

For most children, Christmas is a celebration worth looking forward to. For thirteen-year-old Evan, it was something to fear.

Evan still remembered his seventh Christmas Eve clearly, an evening that he, like most children, had been looking forward to for a long time. The next morning he would get up early and open all his presents, eager to see what surprises Santa had left him. Evan imagined the restless night ahead and thought, if he listened hard, he might be able to hear Santa come down the chimney.

But this Christmas Eve didn't all go to plan. It wasn't long before Evan's excitement gave way to horror.

Is Elysia really mental or could there be something more powerful and sinister behind the way she has been acting, could it be demonic influence and oppression?

Will Elysia be able to cope inside the mental home? Will she ever get out and leave?

I promise you, my dear, this is for your own good Elysia." My mother said reluctantly as the doctors loaded the few things I was allowed to take into the white van labeled 'Arsmid Mental Hospital'. If it wasn't clear, my mother is shipping me off to a mental institution. Not because I'm crazy or in the least bit mental, but because I'm different. Mom says I have had my 'disability' since I was a child. I have always been able to see things before they actually happen.

She says that I must have got it from my father, whom I have never met. She says I get a lot of things from him. I don't understand why she had never let me meet him. Did it ever cross her mind that he could have

Have you ever wanted to know a particular person better? To be able to predict his or her every move and reaction? Be familiar with all of his or her tastes and see right through his or her personality so that you can be the wiser?

If so, then you may embark on a journey… There you will find your answers, or so the forgotten runes of the Aztecs dictate. Needless to say it’ll be dangerous, and the burden of risk very heavy.Your intentions may be as innocent as trying to comprehend the person you love, or give a heart-warming surprise to a friend or family member. Or, it may be sinister, as to use the information you are given to manipulate and thwart someone you loathe.