|October 20||POTAMOPHOBIA by
|From||Dylan Rëndherte, CEO
|Date||September 30, 2018 @ 19:13|
|Subject||ATTENTION ALL EMPLOYEES|
|It has come to our attention that there have been several breaches in security at key facilities within our organization.
We will be dispatching agents to recover files, documents and statements received from eye witnesses and insuring that they are redistributed properly for the public to be aware of the progress we have made.
This will begin on Monday, October 1st and we will not stop until we have reallocated all assets from our diligent efforts.
While some of the methods used are quite extreme rest assured we show no hesitation in using everything at our disposal to prepare humanity for the next step in their evolution.
We appreciate your diligent efforts as agents and look forward to seeing these records uploaded into our master database.
-Dylan Rëndherte, Chief Executive Officer and Stockholder of the Skinner Foundation
...posted in: Collaboration
Face Your Fears…
Free Your Fears…
(a paid advertisment from your friends at the Skinner foundation.)
I was 13 and Sarah was 10.
The dark things arrived in the room where we sat, encircled in our protective salt. This was intended for we had summoned them to us in the magic of after-midnight. Silence and black had reigned in the gloomy dark of the drafty attic until we had broken it apart with our dark chanting. The chanting now complete, the silence was broken as the house rumbled to life.
...posted in: Uncategorized
I’m always curious about what people are up to when they think no one is watching. I see a lot of things. I have trouble sleeping most nights so I step outside for walks. I find myself out on one of these walks, the shadow of an oak tree shrouding my presence like a curtain, when I see my neighbor do something very strange.
My house is haunted but there is a logical explanation. This is not one of those stories where a tragic death happened inside. No one has ever died here. Still, tragedy surrounds the place; the two windows upstairs at the back gaze sadly out every day. No, this is not a story about a house built on an Indian burial ground. There is no one interred beneath the foundation…only in the yard. Rows and rows of tombstones stretch out past my back door to the tree line beyond. My haunted house stands in a cemetery. The cemetery to which I am now the caretaker.
As I walked, about two blocks up I saw him…the boy. I decided then to abruptly change direction, having heard from others that when coming across this particular child, it was advisable to give him a wide berth. He was climbing out of the sewers. It was abnormal for anywhere else, but par for the course in our little village.