drinkswiththeunknown

The year is 1989. Harold is finishing up another late night in his office on the thirteenth floor located off Blackburn and Oak Lawn near Turtle Creek. Work is never done when you are skimming off the top of cooked books for shady business owners. Harold played a prominent role for many of his clients. Some he never met face to face. There's always a third-party when dealing with Harold. He was careful. He was meticulous. Above all else, he was smart. Harold knew if he was ever caught, he would have to make a smooth getaway. Only a few people see his face. And none of them, as far as he knew, were ever the ones paying him. After fifteen years of cooking books and no one catching on, he felt invincible. This could be what led him to take on more clients that asked for more than adding a zero here and there.  When he was leaving his office this night, he was approached by a man he had not met before. But this man knew Harold. Normally when working a job Harold meets with the s...

My cousins and I have only met a handful of times. Yet, we all shared a common interest, the darker side of things in life. My grandpa and uncles have a knack for telling horror stories good enough to keep us up at night. That might explain why although my cousins and I didn't spend much time together we still had something to bond over.  All six of us were upstairs while the rest of the family reunion went on downstairs. I couldn't tell you whose idea it was to play, but I know my cousin Michael wasn't a willing participant without some coercion. Big brothers have that effect on younger siblings. Michael laid down in the center of the bedroom while the rest of us circled. Sarah hit the lights and then kneeled down by his head. She began rubbing his temples with two fingers on each side. The rest of us put our index and pointer fingers under Michael's body. Sarah said out loud: You are walking through a dark alley late at night. You are the only one there. The ...

It was around three a.m. when we heard the whistles coming from the backyard. My cousin's room was in the back of the house and his large bedroom window faced the backyard. It stood around three feet with completely blacked-out piercing eyes. Perched on the back fence, it continued to whistle at us. Calling us out. Begging us to come outside. We froze in fear. It was just a story; or, at least it was only a story until we heard and saw the lechuza. It had to have been a minute or two stuck in a trance staring into those black eyes until the back-porch lightbulb burned out. Moonlight only made the creature appear more sinister. The sudden burst within the bulb is what broke the trance. A couple of moments passed, and the whistling stopped. No one believed us the next day. We wouldn't either have we not seen and heard the calls of the lechuza.  What happened that night As two thirteen-old teens are to do, we talked about everything unknown that night. The conver...

Nothing could stop the train barreling towards the school bus trapped on the tracks. The driver's eyes stayed glued on the three thousand-ton freight train making its presence known the closer it came into sight. Rumbling was felt throughout the bus as the train kept getting closer. Each second felt like an eternity for the fourteen children frozen in fear. Screams were muffled by the overbearing sound of the train horn warning the school bus and its passengers collision was imminent. Over and over the driver continued to turn his key in the ignition. Sweat beaded on his forehead while he prayed to every God he knew. Two children survived the crash. They were found huddled together under a seat behind the driver. Ten years after the accident one of the survivors took their life on the tracks. Survivors guilt was too much for them to bear. The other child continued to search for answers until their death. It didn't make sense for the bus to come to a complete stop as th...

Smoke puffed into the air like it was coming out of a chimney. The small cigar-shaped aircraft made an impact at the base of the windmill. It was unclear what started the fire because the aircraft had no distinct way of propulsion. For the time, none of the people in town understood flight. This is before the Wright brothers premiered their Wright Flyer in 1903. The year this flying aircraft crash landed in Aurora, Texas is 1897. Flight should not be possible. But the burning windmill says otherwise. A crowd of fifty people watched as the fire grew larger. A large creaking sound came from the aircraft. A hatch was opened. Anticipating what would emerge had the crowd on edge. A small grey hand appeared to push the hatch open. Then a three-foot humanoid figure fell out of the aircraft and hit the dry, desert land with a hard thud. Two men ran as fast as they could to remove the figure away from the fire. Lifeless. The creature's large, disproportionate head housed two black eyes th...

"It's not far. Just keep walking," Jason said. Max wasn't sure if it was worth the walk all the way out in the middle of the park. Reluctantly he kept following Jason further into the park. "Shhhh...You hear that?" The air in the park was crisp and light enough to carry a faint sound that was nearly inaudible but familiar. Chills went up Max's back. He attempted to pretend he wasn't scared. The pale look on his face said otherwise. "We're close." Jason pulled at Max's jacket sleeve with force as he dragged him closer to a secluded part of the park near the edge of a drainage ditch. Electricity could be felt in the air. River Legacy Park may be surrounded by busy streets and busy shopping centers, but here in the middle of the park Jason and Max felt they were the last two people on Earth. "You got the straw? Please tell me you didn't forget it. That was the whole point. We bring the straw to set it on fire and see what...

It's always at night. Not every night though. If you listen carefully, you'll hear creaking from the hallway near the balcony overlooking the living room. Almost sounds like a wooden door blowing back and forth like a  cliché  from a horror film. My family won't admit to what we hear. Or on the rarer occasion feel. The air around the balcony is heavy. A draft can be felt as though it passes through you. Something tells me whatever it was we experienced in that home may have been what drove Licker to what he did. How could anyone decide their only option is to have someone killed? The original owner of the home hung himself from that balcony in 1962. Coincidence Licker had people murdered a little over 20 years later? Maybe. I believe the spirit that haunted that home possessed Licker to commit such a heinous crime. He hired those men with the intent to murder. Not just send a message. Money and drugs might nudge men to do crazy things; but, a spirit is a push. White ...