One crisp October morning in two-thousand fifteen,A receptionist typed on her computer screen.At a sports medicine center in Birmingham town,She checked Dr. Andrews’ schedule up and down. Dr. James Andrews, a surgeon so famed,With athletes and stars his skills were acclaimed.His days were all booked, surgeries galore,But today, no conflicts—just the usual chore. She moved […]
In April’s chill of ’48,On Arctic land in frozen state,A band of hunters, Inuit kin,Set forth where icy coasts begin. With spears in hand, through snow they tread,To hunt where seals and walrus fed.But in their path, an icy hillBlocked all the view—it stood so still. The youngest one, with heart so bold,Ran up the
In Uganda’s land on a moonless night,In March, beneath the pale starlight,An old man crouched with breath held tight—John Manene, eyes sharp with fright. He wasn’t alone in that village deep,Where shadows crawled and none could sleep.For fourteen years, they’d lived in dread,Eighty-three souls were found long dead. Children vanished without a trace,The butchered lost
In Memphis town, ‘neath skies of gray,A mystery stirred one fateful day.The year was nineteen eighty-two,And whispers crept where silence grew. Inside a church, so vast and wide,Where halls and chapels lived inside,Worked Headmaster Sam, a thoughtful man,With desk and bowl, and admin plan. But one late morn, in February’s chill,His bowl was empty—nuts gone
In Yorkshire’s lands on autumn’s breath,A tale unfolds of fear and death.September tenth, the year ‘eighty-seven,Brought whispers dark from earthly heaven. PC Ellis, calm and wise,Met two guards with haunted eyes.Steven Brooks and David too,Were strong of build but pale of hue. They told a tale so strange, so stark,Of ghostly chills out in the
In Flint, Michigan, late in May,Three friends crept in, just past the day.An old brick home once held the dead,Now shuttered tight—so rumors said. A funeral home, long left behind,With horror tales that gripped the mind.No entry sign, yet in they crept,While curious hearts in silence leapt. The door, though locked, gave way with ease,Like
In Georgia’s heart where waters glow,A spring once shone with neon flow.Radium Springs, a sight so rare,With shimmering blue and glowing air. At half past six on a warm May night,Two Navy friends sought thrill and fright.Donald Jaru, young and keen,And Murray, twenty-eight and lean. Though trained by force to brave the sea,They dove for
In September’s breeze of ‘eighty-five,A carriage came down lanes alive.From London’s streets to country side,Young Mary came, her grief to hide. A hundred miles she rode that day,To where her husband’s aunt did stay.She stood before the manor tall,A lonely guest with tears to stall. The maid received her with a grace,And showed her to
On a cold March night in twenty-twelve,In Ottawa’s ring, where the echoes swell,A man named Justin, just past forty,Stood nervous-eyed but stance held sporty. The crowd erupted, loud and wild,But doubt still gripped this golden child.For this was not just any fight—It was his first… beneath the light. They said, “He’s soft! He won’t survive.He’s
In the summer heat of ‘53,In Memphis town, where dreams run free,A man named Sam, with eyes so keen,Was cleaning up his music scene. His studio stood small, but proud,Amongst the city’s music crowd.He’d just wrapped up a church choir’s song,Resetting wires, he hummed along. You see, Sam’s place was quite unique—No need for fame
