Slowly, Manny shambled through the hall. His speed didn't matter; it would always be the same hallway greeting him. The path filled with his past regrets and shame, plagued with his current guilt. Nothing would ever change that. Nothing.

His eyes drooping and weary, Manny continued on. As he made it farther down, the overhead light began flickering wildly, casting the area in a dim, inconsistent darkness. It didn't bother Manny. After all, it was always the same, and even here, only his festering memories could truly hurt him.

Halfway through, blood prickled along the ceiling, gradually dripping down the dingy walls. Eventually, Manny was wading through a river of crimson, the coppery scent burning his nostrils. Regardless, he trudged on, ignoring the constant sloshing sound.

Just before an old oak door, framed pictures appeared on the blood soaked walls. Manny could barely look at them; those reminders of the past only brought him more pain. But, deep down, Manny knew he deserved this. After all he'd done, this was merely karma's way of enacting revenge. So with a heavy sigh, he turned the knob, entering into the same exact hallway as before. After all, it was always the same.

With wind still pushing bag, bag works itself into a corner. She watches bag for thirty seconds or so. Try’s to ignore bag... then bag just eerily quits making noise. She quickly turns to look in corner. She finds bag isn’t there. Light starts to flicker again. Quickly searching her immediate surroundings she slowly finds flashlight. Bag had started making noise again. She puts light closer to where it sounds like the noise is. She’s scared to put light where she thinks bag is because it would be impossible for the bag to be in this spot. Now bag is floating five feet off of the ground motionless, suddenly taking form of a disfigured face walking towards her. Child panics, smacking light on hand. Trying her best to get it to come back on. By now bag has stopped making noise. Light comes back. She searches where she last saw the bag, finding that the bag is no longer there. She checks her entire surroundings. No bag. She then tries to leave the room, but as soon as she grabs the doorknob our bag immediately starts to suffocate her. Falling down, she is helpless as her muffled screams go unanswered.

June 1918,

The Belleau Forrest was the last battle of the Great War. American and Allied forces push against the german might as the allies advance towards the capital. Both sides were locked in a stalemate and either side knew that taking the woods would be a game changer. History says the marines defeated the germans in what was called one of the bloodiest and most ferocious battles U.S. forces would fight in the war. What they don't tell you is how.

In the German camp, a couple of soldiers talk among themselves. Suddenly, one hears rustleing in the trees. Thinking it was a bird, they dismiss it. Then the rustle gets louder, and the howl of the wolf fills the night. The soldiers grab their rifles and peak their heads over the trenches. There no wolves in this forrest, yet they could hear them. One soldier climbs up over the trenches to investigate. His friends use their lanters to shine light on him. Getting closer, two powerful claws pull him into the woods. Horrified, all they could do was hear the sound of their friend being eaten alive.

Terrified, all they could mutter was one word. "Höllenhunde."

HellHound.

.

Years. It had been years since I’d heard that familiar scratching beneath my bed, starting so faint that one could almost mistake it for something benevolent. But not me. I knew the sound intimately and it sent my heart into a painful, hammering rhythm that I had foolishly thought behind me.

I should have known better than to think that I could simply be forgotten, that time and distance could render me safe. I grew lax in my routines as I achieved adulthood. After all, why should I sleep with a light on? Why should I cover myself to the neck every single night with blankets.

The scratching grew louder as it crept from the foot of the bed up toward the head. I closed my eyes tightly. It didn’t help. The room was already dark enough that my retinas couldn’t tell the difference, and my mind knew every detail clearly enough to paint a picture, whether I wanted it or not.

A shuddering, raspy breath, hot against my ear, caused a ripple of goosebumps down my body. A whimper escaped my lips, one that I regretted immediately. It was always worse if I made a sound. She was back.

Nails scraping on a blackboard. An eerie, unpleasant noise, but nowhere near as unpleasant as the screams coming from the locked door Daniel was standing outside of. As the screams increased in noise and pitch, so did the malevolent grin on his face. Daniel was the one who put the innocent man in the room, locked the door, and threw away the key. The room was a storehouse, so the man could have survived long enough to receive help, if it weren’t for the lions. They weren’t ordinary lions, no, they had been starved for weeks for Daniel’s maniacal plan: luring a stranger into the woods and locking him in with starving lions, and listening to his cries for help slowly fade into whispers. After a few short minutes, the only sound left was the snores of the lions, in a deep slumber after being satiated by the man’s warm blood. Carefully, Daniel pulled a key identical to the one he had thrown away just moments earlier out of his pocket, and slid it into the door. As he entered the room, he was greeted with a grisly scene: three fat lions lying around a pile of gleaming white bones.

A Killer, a murderer entered an abandoned Warehouse, even though the creepiness of the Warehouse is off the scale and you can sense all the malice coming from the inside. Many mysterious things happen at the Warehouse especially at night, you hear footsteps with no sight of a person, hear voices, like it’s a ghost and fog suddenly appearing all around the Warehouse.

The Killer went further into the Warehouse, but then he started to hear many footsteps from behind him. He looked behind him, but no one was there. The footsteps continued, and still no one was there. Then scared out of his wits he ran ahead, but then a thick deep fog appeared from nowhere and he is unable to see through the fog.

The fog was starting to clear up a bit, but then he heard a voice. “How dare you kill me?”

“I will get my revenge, just you wait!”

“I will kill you, no matter what,”

“Just watch your back,”

Many ghastly voices said to the killer.

The killer looks in fear and terror as he hears the many ghastly voices.

“AHH!” The killer screamed in terror.

Then finally he ran away screaming in horror.