A friend sent me this.

“They say that the hour of three A.M. is the time when spirits can become active, and I’m sure of that. My apartment was always a little too quiet for one in the city, especially at night. No drunk shouting in the street at that time, no sound of car horns and alarms could penetrate the dark at that particular hour. It’s like my apartment was high on a platform, surrounded only by a dense fog that the sharpest of hawk eyes couldn’t penetrate. I was usually attempting to sleep at that time, after bleaching my skin in the pure electric light of my computer screen. Emphasis on the phrase attempting, because from that stems this tale. I advise you, if you’ve been here long enough to find it, you’ll soon discover of what I’m talking about. I should really tell you anyway, just so you know you’re not insane. I know I’m not.

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During the summer of 2003, events in the northeastern United States involving a strange, human-like creature sparked brief local media interest before an apparent blackout was enacted. Little or no information was left intact, as most online and written accounts of the creature were mysteriously destroyed.

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In my old age I’ve seen a lot of things. Some things I’m a little more proud of than others. As a boy there wasn’t a damn thing that could sate my appetite for the world around me. Everything in reach I had to get my hands on, take it apart and study it. My natural curiosity is what got me into the many scraps and situations of my youth.

I remember when I wasn’t any older than six, it was the fall of nineteen hundred and twenty-eight, me and several of the local boys were out playing a game of hide-and-seek. Denny Louis was the seeker, and a damned good one at that, so I took it upon myself to find a damned good hiding place. I remembered the hayloft out in our barn, and figured I could hide myself among the many bales of hay up there, maybe even push some of those bales around like I had times before when I wanted to build a fort, and get myself a perfect hiding space. Denny started counting out loud from a hundred and I took off a running to the barn, the breeze tickling my cheeks and smelling like the harvest.

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When I was younger, my friend sent me an interesting article on lucid dreaming. I read it and decided to attempt such a dream. My first attempts were futile, however I still tried every night.

On the night of my birthday I set a cup of water I usually brought on my nightstand and closed my door and windows. I locked the windows with both latches, laid down, turned off the light, and went to bed.

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This is a true story.

Back in the 1990s, a girl committed suicide after viewing an image posted in an old newsgroup.

The image was of a figure–which some identified as a woman–standing in the middle of a lonely road. The figure is transparent to the point that its legs are barely visible and is illuminated by an unknown light source coming from the direction of the camera. Whether it’s headlights, a hand-held flashlight, or the light of the camera itself isn’t known for sure, as the actual source of the image has never been identified. No facial features can be made out, but the figure is most easily identified by its long, bony appendages which partly resemble a spider’s legs. Those who have seen the image or know of its existence have come to know the figure in it as ”The Wanderer.”

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