text
stringlengths 1
40k
⌀ |
|---|
I am making a YouTube channel based on true scary stories! If you or someone you know has any scary stories to share, I'd love to hear them! |
hey all, i am start a youtube channel for narrating true Horror/weird/un-explainable events stories if you have a story that you want to be shared let me know :) |
My brother had a little bowling pin toy that when it was pushed it whent hahahe it went off a lot during the night and one night it went off and said hahaha in a deep voice then my dad's phone went off and the caller ID was 666 and my mom and dad where confuse because the batteries where out when this happend needless to say that thing went in the garbage the next morning |
This happened about a week and a half ago, I live in Washington State and I’ve sort of always been obsessed with cryptic stuff. Just a little background about me, I’m a male 14 year old, I’m homeschooled so i don’t leave the house much and I live with my mother and father. It was March 7th, 2022 at about 12:00am, I was just listening to a old Jenna Marbles and Julien Solomita podcast from like 3 years ago and playing some video games, (red dead redemption 2 if you wanna be exact) I was getting kinda tired and I had just finished eating a snack so I went to go brush my teeth and wash my face. I did all my business in the bathroom and came back to my room, when I opened the door, my cat was up in his cat tower, which is right next to my window, and his back was arched up, his hair on his back was all up, and he was hissing, which I’ve never heard him do. I look out the window and standing there is my dad, which gave me a sigh of relief for a second. Until I realized it wasn’t my dad… it was taller than my dad and it’s smile was weirdly big, oh yeah, it was smiling. My dad never just smiles at me. He’s never come up to my window before. I said “What the fuck is that” I ran out of my room, crying and shaking obviously cause I’ve never seen anything like that before. I went to my mom who was sleeping on the couch and shook her awake, I told her to go check if my dad was in the bedroom and she asked why and I told her I’d tell her after she checked and indeed, he was sleeping in the bedroom. I told her what happened and she sort of believed me sort of didn’t, so she went into my room and checked out my window, whatever it was was gone, she checked all the other windows and doors and nothing was there, she grabbed my cat and we slept out on the couch that night, all huddled together. Today was the first day I was able to go back into my room (March 17th) and i still haven’t told my dad about it. I have no idea what it was that I saw but the only think I could come up with was a skinwalker. My boyfriend told me to tell my experience on here so what the hell. Anyway, i don’t think I’ll ever forget this and I’m still terrified that I’m gonna end up seeing it again, i looked behind my shoulder like 10 times while writing this lol. Wtf |
The worst thats ever happened to me is when I was awake late one night, and one of my dogs suddenly perked up from her sleep as if she heard something. She then essentially did a couple rounds around the main floor, stopping and sniffing at the front door, then a big window at the side of the house, then the back door, then my bedroom window, and then lastly the living room window.
I was so fuckin freaked out, I couldn’t sleep that night. I almost KNEW she was following the smell or sound of someone or something circling around our house. Unfortunately it was confirmed the next morning because upon looking, there were NUMEROUS human footprints circling the house.
|
This isnt a long story and you might see this story on a couple other sub reddits bc i dont know whats happening me and i want some answers.
I know i was young when this happed not sure how young but young.
“Isaiah get down here” my mom called me to the basement to help her with her computer a mac i think. When i got down there i helped her with her computer and chilled there for a bit and having a friendly conversation. Soon my younger brother came down to see what we where doing i heard his footsteps but they where louder than usual. Then they got faster and even more louder. Soon everything went black. I Then saw the grim reaper he was a bit off tho he dint have his scyth. He over looked at me and reached his hands towards me his hands came out of his sleeve all bones. I fell back on the floor in shock and everything went from black back to this reality. And the grim reaper disapears. I have never seen him again but i have been left with the after effect every now and then i hear people screaming, shouting, crying and dogs barking. Its not very often and quite rare but when i do hear them i get paranoid for the whole night. |
Some Quick context I’ve only had two experiences can’t say it was paranormal, might of been night tears. But my father has seen shadow people as long as he can remember, either standing at the end of his bed or walking through the house
My experience happened when I was 16 so about 6 years ago. I can remember everything so vividly still. I can’t explain what happened but feel free to tell me what you think!
Me and my girlfriend were hanging out in my room in the basement. We fell asleep and the next thing I remember is waking up in my very dark room with my girlfriend crying at the side of my bed. She is a taller girl with long black hair. I ask her “is everything okay love” I didn’t get an answer so I tried to pull her face to me so I could see her. When I did this I could feel her tears hitting my hand but she pulled away. I told her “it’s okay love I’m here” then I started running my fingers through her hair, this always helps calm her down. I could feel her hair going through my fingers pulling apart small knots. After about 2 minutes of this I told her to come back to bed. She laid back down and I cuddled her till I fell back asleep. I woke up in the morning by myself. I couldn’t find my girlfriend anywhere so I called her. She told me that I dropped her off at home at 10 pm that night and it wasn’t her. Who or what was this?
2 months later I had a nightmare, where something was trying to drag me away. I woke up and there was something pulling on my arm from under my bed. I couldn’t see what it was because my room was so dark. I was able to pull my arm up and turned on my lights. My forearm had red scratches on it. I grabbed my small pocket knife and looked under my bed were I was grabbed from. There was nothing, no one, anywhere. |
Hi everyone, I have been wanting to start a YouTube channel since I love to listen to scary stories, I thought I could make my own channel If you have stories of your own, it'd be really helpful if you share it on here if you want me to include it in my videos. You can change names in your stories if you want to be anonyms. It could be paranormal, stalker, harassment, dating, stranger encounters etc. Anything that is scary. I will send you a link to the video if you are feathered. I am trying to get multiple stories before I start. If you have any advice for a beginner like me, I would appreciate it
thank you for the stories and the support.
|
So you'll have to forgive spelling errors and the like, I'll try to clean it up as I go. I'm writing this on my phone at work and still a bit shaken up. So let me preface this by saying I'm an overnight guard at a hospital, I've been here about 5 years or so. Overall I've been working night security in various settings for about 12 years. Before that I was a marine. My point is I'm used to odd situations and the general bumps in the night.
The hospital where I work has had its share of weird shit happen, as many old buildings do, but nothing too crazy. Tonight was different though. Part of the job is patrolling and unlocking this one really old building, as in one of the first buildings in the city old. It's currently used as the college of nursing but at night it's deserted.
Well about 3am or so it's peaceful (won't say the q word) in the hospital so I wander over to grt the unlocks out of the way. I'm in this building alot, probably 2 to 5 times a week, every week, for the last 5 years. Ive gotten used to the creepiness and I honestly kinda like the quiet. Tonight was odd though, as soon as I approached I got this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It was that feeling of being watched by a predator, any one who's spent time in the woods knows the feeling. Your hackles raise so to speak and your mind screams "get out if there". I stop outside and scan the street behind me and the courtyard I'm standing in, nothing obvious but I can't shake the feeling. I go inside and lock the doors behind me making a note to unlock them last.
That feeling doesn't go away though. As I'm walking the floors one by one it only gets worse as I move towards the older parts of the building. Now I know I'm the only one in this building. I've been all through the first floor and all the entrances are locked up tight. You can only do that with a key. As I grt into the upper floors though I start hearing things. It starts eith footsteps, hard to tell because it's like their matching my cadence. What gets my attention is that it sounds like hard soled shoes, not like the boots I'm wearing.
I turn back and search the halls but absolutely nothing. Then I hear a door slam from the hall I judt came from. I run back, maybe took me a few seconds to the door, nothing. It opens to an empty auditorium which I thoroughly search, still nothing. At this point I shrug it off, old building and all. Maybe the pipes were clicking and I thought foot steps. Maybe I missed a door being open and it rattled closed as I walked by. I continue on with that feeling getting stronger and stronger.
Im in the stairs to the 4th floor and I'm taking a second to breathe and mess with my phone. I hear a door below me slam shut and the distinct sound of footsteps echoing in the stairwell. I pull my radio to call dispatch and let them know some ones in the building. It beeps telling me the batteries dead and won't call out.... Shit. I call on my phone and dispatch says they'll send some guys.
I wait but I'm not hearing any more footsteps, no doors no, sounds at all. I walk all the way back down and back up to 4 and find no one. Now I'm second guessing myself and anticipating the coming jokes on my behalf. I move along figuring I'll finish the last floor and work my way down and meet up with the other guards. I open the door to the 4th floor and everything is different.
I'm not talking about a change in atmosphere or anything like that. I'm saying that the entire floor, which consists of old offices used for storage and whatnot, is completely different. White painted walls now have wood paneling, the clutter is gone replaced by old lab and medical equipment, filing cabinets instead of boxes. The biggest change? At the end of the hall, in each corner, are two leather bound chairs and two men sitting in them talking to each other. They stop and look at me as I stand there holding the door in stunned silence. I blink and it's all gone, right back to normal.
I don't understand it, one second it's completely different from the hundreds of times I've stepped onto that floor. Next second poof, back to normal. Instinctively I try my radio again remembering the dead battery as I hit the button... And it works. I call out that I'm on the fourth floor and I need units up here as I start to Check through each office. Of course everything's normal when every one grts there and I'm still left wondering what the hell judt happened.
We finish checking the building and I catch my fair share of bullshit from the other guys. I go down to dispatch because I know we have cameras on those floors and I want to know what happened. I get to dispatch and we review the cameras. We see the door open as I come in then the feed freezes entirely for about 8 seconds. Not necessarily unusual but not very common, especially on those cameras. That tends to happen in more commonly traveled areas.
So the dispatcher, a man who's been here since grass first sprouted, asks me what I saw. I describe it to him and he says "weird, that's how it looked back in the 80s, before they redid the lower floors and those were all labs for the college".
At this point I'm just speechless and decide to save myself from further embarrassment and say I must just be tired and seeing things. I know that's not the case though. I'm wide awake and I know what I saw. I know what I heard through the rest of the building too. I just don't know how to explain it. Every one has their weird experiences in the at building but man, this oen really threw me. |
Repost:My op account was banned unfortunately.
No idea why.
So this happened to me and my little brother (we'll name him Dylan for confidentiality purposes) when we lived together a few years back.
I was at 25 year old male and my little brother was 19,we were relaxing playing some halo 3 on the xbox,smoking a bowl just being brothers hanging our usual daily day's off from work. It was a Saturday night in the mid summer of 2009. We lived in a quiet neighborhood, neighbors were just far enough apart you had privacy and they never got into your business.
But we all knew each other as our parents lived in the house for years and it was our childhood home. When my parents retired they moved off and left the house to us so we never had to worry about a roof over our head.
Now our house is at the end of the cul-de-sac with a garage door to the right and our front door is up 4 steps to the left of the window between our garage door but from our kitchen you can see straight out when the curtains are open.
This particular night however would grow to haunt me and my brother to this day,after a few hardcore hours of gaming it's like 3 in the morning my brother would need to get up a stretch his legs and relax his hands,he went down stairs to grab some water and a snack,when suddenly Dylan comes running up the stairs and locks the door freaking the total hell out,I look at him confused as fuck barking "Bro wtf is wrong?", with a pail ghost white face he looks at me and says "There is a guy on the forch with his hands cuffed to the window smiling from ear to ear."
Then we hear five knocks at the door,we froze in our tracks backing slowly away from the door,I get under my bed and grab the machete and bat I keep under my bed in case I ever needed to defend myself (I watch to many zombie movies),I give the bat to Dylan as he's taller than me and has longer arms be more beneficial to him.
We tip toe back to the bedroom door and unlock it,we crack the door open just enough to see out of, then suddenly the man knocks over and over and over before you know it he had knocked at least thrifty times and then it just stopped,I told Dylan to grab my cell phone and dial 911,he did and dispatch sent officers our way immediately.
While on the phone the man went around the back of our house because we heard screaming coming from the back yard,the man was there, just looking at the bedroom window with that creepy ass smile,we stayed just out of the line of sight peaking from the corners, suddenly the man takes off in full on sprint and threw himself into our back door,we holler "Oh shit he's trying to break in our back door!" to the dispatch officer.
She tell units to step it up as he's trying to make entry.
We hear the sirens closing in faster and faster as the man continues to bash himself into our door,on the third bash we hear the door crash open,we stay as quiet as possible listening to things in the kitchen being smashed to hell and the man yelling "Come out,come out, wherever you are!"
I whisper to dispatch that he's downstairs in the kitchen and she tells officers he's made entry and one unit said he was close.
We ready our bat and machete as we hear foot steps creaking up the stairs,then blue lights can be seen illuminating the house,as we hear "police come out with your hands up,make your presence known!" The man books it down the stairs and gets tackled by officer and handcuffed after a bit of a struggle.
We came out when the officer's cleared the house and made sure it was safe.
The man was high on meth just looking to rob us to get another quick fix,we're so thankful for officer arrived when he did,we thanked until the moment he left. He still came by from time to time to check on us and even played video games with us a few times.
I still get nightmares of that creepy ass smile,and to whomever you are creepy smiley man. I hope me never meet again. |
I was lucky enough to live a large house when I was a kid (my father was a physical therapist). My house had a side room towards the back side of the first floor. My siblings called it the “2nd living room” because thats basically what it was. It had an old recliner, a small table, and a mid-sized couch. Thats it. We hardly ever sat in there.
One morning, I woke up sick. Told my mom, and she told me to take the day off from school and stay home. My siblings had to be at school, and my parents worked, so that meant I had the house to myself. I laid around in bed for a few hours, until around 10:30am when I heard steady walking coming from my first floor. I thought nothing of it at first as I just assumed maybe my mom went in late like she did sometimes. I needed something to eat anyway, so I stood up and went downstairs to the kitchen. I made it about 3 feet in front of my kitchens walk-in doorway when I locked eyes with, not my mom, but a 6 foot tall man, wearing raggy and ripped up clothes. I was frozen in fear. I just stood there. It was only for a few seconds but it felt like hours had past. The guy just stood there and watched me too, no expression or anything. I eventually pulled myself out of the shock and bolted for my bedroom upstairs. I didn’t hear him following me, but I got into my bedroom and locked the door and moved my dresser in front of it anyway.
I pulled out my phone and instead of calling 911 like I should have done, I called my mom. I screamed into the phone, telling her someone was in the house trying to kill me. She told me to not leave my room for any reason and call the police, so I did. 15 minutes later, the police finally show up, as I could see through my bedroom window. I watched them enter the house before I left my room to run down to them for safety. I told them everything that happened.
They did a quick search of the home, and found nothing. Not a single person or broken window/door. My parents both came home shortly after, and were absolutely furious that the guy was not caught. I was extremely angry as well, but also relieved I was alive. The police began packing their things, but as one of the last officers was on the way out, he noticed a Walmart bag sticking out from under our couch. It was that damn couch in the side room. And well…what do you know? We found hundreds of trash bags and week old rotting food under the coach, along with some other personal items like wipes, water bottles, and even a bag of piss. A f*cking bag of piss.
Whoever that man in the kitchen was, had been living under our couch for weeks. I cant comprehend how none of my family members smelt any of the garbage that was piled up under there the entire time. The fact he never made a single noise under there also baffles the hell out of me. We’ve since cleaned that room out completely and turned it into a breakfast nook, with wooden chairs, so no more shitheads can break in and find free housing in them.
I go off to college in a few months so I wont have to live in fear of that incident happening again much longer. But I still think about it every time I wake up with a cough. |
First off, (all of this is true) I was about 9 mabey 10 at the time. My family and I lived on a large farm out in the middle of nowhere. It was a clear night and a full moon. I had gotten up to grab a drink from our kitchen when I saw through our large deck glass doors, a dark,shadowy figure standing out in the middle of one of the paddocks, at first I didn't think much of it but I remember standing there for at least 10 minutes just looking at it though the windows and wondering what it was before buggering it and going back to bed. To this day I still have no idea what was out there and quite frankly don't really want to know |
The other day, I remember this one little story that happened to one of my friends' is old neighbors. His old neighbor lived in a really small RV Park. Anyways, he like to go back there to visit her a lot, since they were pretty close. I was his ride at the time, so I would usually end up hanging out there with them.
The small RV park was located right off a main road / Highway that led directly into one of our small, historic townships. The park was shaded by mostly tall oak trees, so it was often nice and Breezy in the hot summers. Since it was such a small neighborhood in the RV Park, everyone had no choice, but to know everyone.
While we were hanging out over there one day, my friend's former neighbor and her other neighbor started commenting on the fact that there were tons of ants. That was unusual to them, since they had lived there for years and never had that problem before.
Eventually, after dealing with the ants being absolutely everywhere for a couple days, my friend's old neighbor decided to go outside and try to track the ant trails to see where they were maybe coming from. She ended up tracking them to an RV that was one space away from hers. There, she found several trails of them both going into and coming from this man's RV!
Every one in the little neighborhood knew that the man who lived in that RV, was somewhat of a hoarder and he was not clean at all.
So, she knocked on his door a few times, but he didn't seem to be there so she decided to tape a note on his door for when he got home. In the note, she asked that he please have his son maybe pick up some ant traps, and also to have him maybe clean up a little!
The man who lived there was quite weak and ill with MRSA. I believe MRSA is a disease that can be passed through bodily fluids and such and I also believe it is eventually fatal. Thankfully though, he had his son around to do his errands and some other things to help care for him.
A couple days after she'd left the note on his door, she got a knock on her door and it was the man's son. What he had to say was the grossest and most horrifying thing to me.
What had happened was that when the man's son came by to take his dad to an appointment, he knocked but didn't get an answer. As he was waiting for his dad to answer, he realized that he hadn't heard from him in almost a week. I guess his dad usually called him at least every other day or so. Since his dad wasn't answering him, his son went to go grab the spare key that his dad had given to him previously.
When he let himself into his dad's RV, he made a morbid and terrifying discovery. He found his dad's decomposing body, still in his bed, totally covered in ants! He ran out of there, and it didn't take long for a neighbor to find him sobbing next to his vehicle. Within minutes, the whole small community had heard the gruesome news.
As it just so happened, I had taken my friend over there for us all to hang out again on the day his old neighbor had heard the terrible news. We didn't even get a chance to sit down before she was already telling us about it. As she was telling us about all the ants on his body, I just couldn't help but to think about how ants come into your house, crawl all over your sinks, counters and dishes, and even in your food!
So, for whatever reason, the ants were truly the most horrific part to me. After all, MRSA can be passed through bodily fluids!
We didn't go back there for awhile after hearing that. When we did though, they were still in the process of trying to move the RV out of there and that was after a man in a full hazmat suit spent days cleaning it out! The whole thing just kinda freaked us all out though, especially the damn ants, for real! |
This took place last month, on the 24th, in a sushi restaurant in Colombes, France.
My ex and I decided to go eat dinner in this small sushi place we would often go to (we're on good terms and still see each other from time to time). We sat down near the entrance, I was facing the window. We had just started eating when a group of four 17-year-olds came in and sat at the table next to ours. They began having a conversation about some weird guy they encountered on their way to the restaurant. Apparently he had a problem with one of the kids, who I'll call Tom. I don't remember much about what they said, except that the guy claimed he'd come back for Tom. Tom had a motorcycle helmet, which he had put on the table next to him (this is important for later). I didn't think much of it and carried on eating. I don't remember how many people there were, but I'd say there were around 15 people.
A few minutes later, I notice a guy at the window, and I hear the kids saying "*Holy shit, that's him.*" The guy was at the window, angrily gesturing Tom to come outside. Since Tom wasn't coming out, the guy opened the door and told him to come outside. Tom provoked him, telling him "*Baise ta mère*" (*go fuck your mom*, a common french insult). Then, the guy let go of the door, pulls out a knife from his pocket and charges at Tom. As soon as I saw the knife, my heart dropped. As the guy tried to stab Tom, he grabbed his helmet and strikes the guy with it. A fight breaks out in the middle of the restaurant, breaking everything. Our table was flipped, every plate and soy sauce container got smashed on the floor. Everyone started panicking, but no one could leave as it was a very small restaurant and they were fighting in front of the entrance, so everyone backed up in the corners behind their tables. Me and my ex did the same. I kept telling my ex that we were getting the fuck out of here, while she kept calling my name in panic, too scared to move. Realizing we couldn't leave, I just shielded her, staring at the fight. Tom and the guy were on the floor, Tom on top, the guy striking him in his back. I seriously thought that I was going to helplessly watch a 17-year-old get stabbed to death before my eyes. I was glued to the scene, fearing the sight of blood. Thinking Tom was getting stabbed repeatedly, I eventually turned around to my ex and put her head to my chest, telling her not to look.
Two dads ended up breaking off Tom and the guy. One was this super muscular no-business dad and the other was a smaller, papa-bear type dad. The crazy guy was pushed out of the restaurant. He kept saying he was 47 years old, with kids, and that he'd kill Tom.
The owner instructed us to pull down the roll up security gate since we were the closest to the key on the wall that controlled it. All of us were now safe inside the restaurant. It was a complete mess: food and sauce everywhere, tables all flipped and pushed to the side... The buff dad who broke off the fight was here with his wife, baby and 4-year-old daughter, who was bawling her eyes out. I felt so bad for her, having to witness this at such a young age. A couple called the cops, who arrived probably 3-5 minutes later since the station was a two-minute drive away from the restaurant.
Cops entered the restaurant and started inspecting, asking questions, and went to see Tom, who got out of the altercation without a single scratch. Turns out the guy's knife was really cheap, and when Tom struck him with his helmet, it knocked the blade off the handle. The dude had kept hitting Tom with in the back with the handle, hence why I thought he was stabbing him. Tom did not seem affected by the situation at all. He had this smirk on his face. Felt like another day in the office for him. He looked the delinquent type, but still, I had expected him to be a little more affected by the situation. Either way, I was glad he was okay. Cops took us outside and started getting our statements. Midway through our statements, we all notice that a good twenty meters away, the cops had arrested the guy and were interrogating him. They eventually took him to the station.
Tom and his friends explained the situation and what happened before they entered the restaurant. According to them, the guy was just leaning on a light pole close to where he was arrested, and when they passed by, Tom made eye contact with him. The guy then tried to intimidate Tom by doing that sudden head movement towards him to make him flinch, don't know what it's called. Tom did not react and just looked at him, which drove the guy nuts, who then said he'd come back for him. I honestly think they were telling the truth. From what we saw, the guy definitely looked like the type to want to kill someone just for looking at them the wrong way.
The second dad who broke off the fight, the papa-bear one, was a sweetheart through the hole thing. He talked to everyone and comforted the 4-year-old girl, which was really nice to see. I think she'll be fine, she quickly stopped crying and referred to the guy as "*le voleur*" (*the robber*). She's obviously too young to understand, and I hope she'll forget this ever happened.
Cops let us go after getting our information. They never called us, so I don't know what happened to the guy. Since the cameras in the restaurant were fake, they'll have to make do with our statements, and since we all had the same version, I hope this maniac is locked up for attempted murder.
Edit: spelling |
Once upon a time when I was about fifteen, my mom had unfortunately discovered the internet and the guys in the multitude of available chat rooms. I have to tell you that she was still married to and living with my dad and I at that time. They had been married almost 20 years back then.
After several failed attempts at meeting up with multiple guys and girls, she finally met this one guy from Oregon. Soon after she started talking to him on the phone, he introduced her to his best friend, a woman who live near him. My mom had me speak to him on the phone, in an effort to sort of introduce us. But when he supposedly put her on the phone, it was obvious to me that it was the guy's voice, trying to sound like a woman! I told my mom, but of course, she didn't believe me.
She was so convinced that was all was well with that, that she soon made plans for both of them to come down to our small California town, so she could meet up with them and have them stay at our house! When I heard that, I started getting really nervous. So, I was totally thankful when they didn't show up to meet her.
She didn't hear from them for a few days, until the guy finally called her with some dumb excuse. But at that point, I was about done with all that, so I got on the phone and told him that I knew he was pretending to be the woman. You guessed it, he denied it all.
Not long after that, my mom actually started mentioning her and I leaving my dad behind to go live up in Oregon with him! She told me she had already talked to the Local High School staff up there about getting me enrolled there!
The Saving Grace was when he called a few nights later, pretty late. He told my mom that something terrible had happened to his best friend, the woman. He said that he hadn't been able to reach her for a few days and he had been worried, so he checked their local paper. He told us that according to the newspaper, she had been found stabbed to death in her home!
That was pretty strange to me, considering that I was damned positive there was no her. It was always just him. I just knew it! So, a day later, I decided to go online myself, (dial up days), and check their local paper for the article the guy had mentioned. I couldn't find any article of the sort, so I ended up emailing the editor of that paper to inquire about the supposed murder that happened just a little over a week earlier. When she replied back that no such article existed, I explained the whole situation to her, via email. She replied to that, asking me for his name so that maybe she could look him up herself, so I gave it to her.
It took her a few days to get back to me, but when she did, she told me that he was in fact, a dangerous man and not to even think of moving up there to be with him! Apparently, he had been charged with something like attempted manslaughter on his ex-girlfriend!
To my great relief, my Mom finally listened to me when I showed her the emails between me and the newspaper editor lady. She left the computer room after that and called him to confront him. He tried to deny it, but she didn't fall for it and she told him that there was no way we would be moving up there to be with him! Since I did the necessary research, we dodged a major freaking bullet! |
This happened just yesterday, at the top of my garden theres a big shed which is actually a small bar. I was with my friend in the bar and it was maybe 8pm ish when we decided to leave but right before we opened the door we thought we heard voices, or to be more specific a voice, it was like one person was talking to themselves but I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying or if it was a mans or womans voice, me and my friend were trying to listen through the door and we were certain it was coming from inside my garden. Eventually we got the confidence to open the door and look outside and right as we did the voice stopped, and there was no-one in my garden. Not the scariest story but it is really weird, thought I would share it. |
This Story is not mine but rather told to me by my Father.
My Dad served in the United States Marine Corps during the Vietnam War. While overseas he was stationed in a place known as Nui Dat Son or as he called it Hill 55.
One night he and another Marine were chosen for Night Watch and with it being Monsoon Season they were almost constantly getting wet from Rain. Wanting some kind of relief from a sudden Downpour they decided to rig up a rudimentary awning to let the water cascade away from them should it begin to rain.
Using scrap ply wood and sawhorses they set to work. My Dad was carrying a rather large plywood slat when he heard a "Whoosh" sound followed by a *ping*. Looking around in confusion a second Whoosh was followed with a *Tick* sound.
"Get down you idiot you're being shot at!" The other Marine shouted at him.
My Dad drops to his belly as a series of bullets impact the ground around him. Clambering over to safety behind some sandbags the other once sleeping Marines emerge from their bunks and begins lighting up the Jungle with machine gun fire and search lights hoping to spot the Sniper.
Unfortunately for them...or fortunately the rain had started obscuring their lights and around daybreak the Sniper fire had ceased.
In the light of day my father went to retrieve the plywood slat and found about three or four inches above where his head would've been a Rifle round sticking in the thick wood. |
Hey all, hope this is ok to share here.
So I had a strange experience about 12 years ago when I went to college, I basically had a lecturer reveal to me and some friends a strange twisted video in a very nonchalant way one day in class. Whilst being very strange at the time I was young and didn't really think anything more of it. Fast forward to the start of this year and I am sitting with my girlfriend and we are talking.
We hear this \*honk\* noise outside of the window really randomly and are both quite confused, jokingly saying "must be an angry goose"... " or a clown " haha....
This sparked the memory of the clown lecturer I had at college. We decided to look him up and found out that he never stopped making creepy videos.
I've made a little documentary type video about the whole thing and just want to share it places that people might find it interesting. Sorry if this self promoting isn't allowed and if not could you help redirect me to somewhere else I could share it?
Thanks guys here it is if you are interested:
|
I remember it really clearly, it was about 20 years ago, back when we lived in Washington. My wife was never the outdoorsy type so when my son, Brandon, wanted to go camping it was always just me and him. That wasn’t bad though, it was good father-son time.
It was a nice scenic drive on the way to the campsite. I remember Brandon asked me about the music on the radio and I spent an embarrassingly long time reminiscing about my high school days and what bands I was obsessed with back then. Eventually we reached our site and I got to work pitching our tent. Brandon waited patiently, he wasn’t the type to go running off or anything, and when it was all set up me and him went for a hike to take in the nature.
It was really peaceful. The woods surrounding the campground were calm and serene, there wasn’t any animals out and about but every once in a while I would stop and point out a deer track or some droppings. It reminded me of when I was a kid spending time with my dad. I suppose I was about nine years old when I learned about the marvels of deer poop myself. As I looked at him I couldn’t help but see a younger version of myself. We had the same eyes, the same hair, and like most of the people in my family we had the same birthmark on our upper right arm.
It was hard spending time with Brandon sometimes, I worked so often and sure, it was putting food on the table, but whenever I saw how fast he was growing without me around the guilt would start to well up inside me. Seeing him smile and laugh that day really uplifted my spirits though. I was here now, and that’s what mattered, is what I’d tell myself whenever the conversation lulled.
As we were walking we suddenly found the trail leading out of the woods and into a beautiful view of the river. I was telling Brandon about erosion and how you could see the effects of the previous years floods on the riverbank when his expression suddenly changed. He pointed up to the sky and said “What’s that dad?” I looked up myself and found that I was just as confused as he was. There was, off in the distance, a dark, triangular, looking object. It hung in the sky perfectly still and then suddenly vanished. Not wanting to lose my reputation as a know it all dad I desperately searched for an explanation, before deciding that it must have been a helicopter and telling Brandon as such. He obviously didn’t believe me, and frankly, I didn’t believe myself either.
By the time we got back to our tent the sun had already started to set. I got Brandon to help me collect some firewood and start up a fire. We roasted some hotdogs and marshmallows. We didn’t get to the scary stories, however, as Brandon started nodding off and I decided it was time for bed. I got Brandon into his sleeping bag and I crawled into mine right beside him.
It was the shaking that woke me at first. I had been in an earthquake before but this was different, it was hard to describe. It was almost like someone was picking up the earth and the earth was trying to pull it back. I was still groggy, I reached out to see if Brandon was awake and I found his sleeping back empty. I wasn’t too panicked yet, like I said, he wasn’t the type to run off, and I always try to keep a level head. I stumbled out of the tent and walked towards where the flashlights were. Confident that I would find him near the fire trying to cope with the shaking. Then the lights happened. The whole campground was bathed in a bright, sickly, white light. It was blinding at first, and when my vision adjusted I realized that Brandon was nowhere to be found. That was when I started to panic.
I grabbed a flashlight and started shouting his name. As I ran to the edge of the woods surrounding the campsite I tried looking for a source for the light, but I couldn’t see one. As I ran to the edge of the woods my pounding heart skipped a beat when I heard Brandon’s voice. He called out to me, “Dad! I’m over here!”. I rushed over, my happiness quickly abated when he started crying “Help! Somethings wrong!”
I ran to the other side of the campsite and found him crouched away from me in a little ditch. The shaking had mostly subsided and I rushed over to him. He was facing away from the light and I put my hand on his back. “What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” I could hear him struggling for air. “Dad!” he finally cried, “something’s wrong… everything’s wrong…” his voice was weak. I reached to his hand and when I touched it alarm bells rang in my head. His skin was rubbery and wrinkly, like a halloween mask. I turned my flashlight on and his whole skin looked a horrid purple. “Brandon,” I muttered in shock. I turned him to face me and screamed. His face was emaciated, his eyes so sunken they looked like a skulls empty sockets. His jaw hanged open like the muscles that held it were worn and worthless. My whole body shook in terror. The shaking started back up again. This time even more violently. It seemed as if the ground was going to get ripped up and thrown into the sky. I didn’t know what to do. I grabbed Brandon and held him as close to me as I could. I found myself praying to a god I was never sure actually existed. Through gurgles and moans Brandon started to talk, “It hurts Dad… why does it hurt so much… help me Dad…” As I squeezed him I could feel him get thinner and thinner, like his insides were being sucked out. It felt like there was nothing left of him. Tears started rolling down my face and the last thing I heard him say, faint as a whisper, haunted me. “Why won’t you help me Dad?”
A nudge caused me to bolt up in my sleeping bag. Brandon was prodding me, “Wake up Dad, I’m hungry.” I got up, more than a little confused. As my heart stopped racing and I came back to reality I realized that I had just had a crazy nightmare. I chuckled to myself. After Brandon was fed I walked over to the ditch from the previous night. There was nothing weird or out of the ordinary. Brandon too, seemed just like he always was, and didn’t mention anything about the previous night. When I walked back to Brandon and asked if he felt the ground shake he said he hadn’t felt a thing. When we got back to civilization I asked other people the same thing and they all agreed with Brandon.
For a week then, my mind was at ease. I worked a lot again that week and when I finally had a day off me and the wife took Brandon to the pool. It was only there that memories of that night came flooding back and the horror with it. When Brandon took his shirt off I looked at his arm, and noticed the family birthmark was missing.
|
Something to know about me before I tell my store is that I loved pulling pranks as a kid. Back when I was 10 or so I got into the wrong group of kids, types that smoked and smelled things they shouldn't because of their gangbanger relative. Yeah, we lived in that kind of neighborhood. The type that when you go to sleep all you hear is yelling and gunfire right outside your house. Even with the bad situation these kids still liked playing pranks, most likely due to them being junior gang members.
The "Leader" was 14 year old Devon Morris, the type to call shots that weren't his shots, and the idolizer 11 year old Lee Hopper, the kind of hype man for Devon, then me Jake Lorain or "Lori" as Devon calls me due to my "Girly" face. They saw me as kind of a new blood and brought me into their "gang". But first they of course needed to initiate me into the group. On a weekend the two brought me to the high school just a few blocks from our neighborhood.
"Those losers over at my wanted some fliers put up for their new class president, you're gonna' fix em' up if you know what I mean." Devon told me. He handed me the pictures of me that he took with a stapler, "Go ahead and get to work, little Lori." Devon ordered with a grin. "Couldn't I get into a lot of trouble?" I meekly asked. Devon pushed me to the ground to drop me on my ass, "Gangsters always get in trouble, it walk makes us tough. You gonna' be tough or am I gonna' have to make you tough?" Devon barked with a clenched fist. I got up with the pictures and staplers before going to the school to prove how "tough" I was.
I stapled down my pictures over the female class president that were on the walls of the school, hiding my face with the hood of my jacket. As I was putting down the posters I heard something very faintly, "Respect" I heard. I looked around to see who it was or who was around me but saw nobody. I quickly stapled down all the pictures and once I was done I just simply tossed the stapler, hopping on my small skateboard to skate home. The next day told me for certain I'd made a mistake.
I woke up the next night expecting my mom in my room snapping at me with the principal of the school, but that didn't happen. I did see that I was late for school and hurried up to get dressed before going out to find my mom. I found her at the dinner table looking absolutely horrible, her skin was filled with rashes and it looked like she hadn't slept for weeks but it'd only been a day. "Mom, are you okay?" I asked in my usual low tone. Even with my low tone my mother fell out of her sleep to crawl against the fridge. "Get away! Don't hurt me please!" She cried.
I stepped back in shock and could see her hands, there were cuts and marks across her wrist along with marks that seemed like she was fighting against someone. I tried to step closer but my own mom treated me like I was about to kill her, "Get the fuck away from me you monster!" She howled. Tears rolled down my face before I went and grabbed my skateboard to skate away from home. I skated to where I might find Devon at the school, when I got there it was horrible.
I saw police cars and EMS vans at the school where I could see on the big sign it said, "Rest In Peace: Devon Morris, Lee Hopper, Jack Lorain". "What the hell?" I thought out loud. But then I saw my photos on the wall, but they weren't pictures of me. In each of them were pictures of Devon and Lee but only in pieces, then I saw several pictures of my mom being covered in gashes and slashes, along with my dad dead with his own pistol in his mouth. "Beautiful, aren't they?" A low and raspy voice said.
I screamed and fell to the ground nearly busting my head wide open, I wish I did so I did have to see the thing in front of me. The thing, was me. My whole person was standing right in front of me but with a twisted face, there were marks, cuts, exposed bone, but skin that looked like it was rotten. The disturbing version of me had no eyes and had a disgusting smiled made with different teeth from all four of my closest friends.
"None of them had respect, your mom had none for your father and so did he, your friends took enjoyment out of disrespecting others, so I had to teach them some respect." The twisted persona of me said. "T-they were just kids, a-a-and mom and dad never hurt me." I gasped out. The other me tilted it's head, "Maybe you can turn things around, but I need to make sure of it." The other I smiled. He then pulled out a bloodied cleaver, then pulled out my hand. "No, please no!" Were my last few words
I woke up in a hospital hoping that everything I saw and experienced were just a dream, but I looked down and saw the opposite. I grew up using a prosthetic hand that i used to help people. I went to events to teach the effects of becoming a gang member, when a kid sees another kid with a real fake hand it tends to set him straight. If you're looking for a damn moral it's pretty obvious. Be respectful to others and be a good part of your community, because trust me, you don't want to see what happens if you don't. |
“Listen here you little shit. I WILL shoot you. I’ll shoot ya dead. Open up the register. RIGHT. FUCKING. NOW.” the man commanded, a little bit of spittle spewing from his mouth. He seemed like he meant business, but I easily picked up on the subtle undertone in his voice. The sweat glistening on his forehead, how his eyes darted nervously this way and that, the way his hand shook as he pointed the supposed pistol at my face. It was implied that there was a pistol concealed inside of the small paper bag at the end of his arm, clutched inside of a sweaty fist. Everything about the guy screamed nervous desperation.
“I can’t do that for you, chief. Boss would kill me” I replied calmly. “Do yourself a favor and put the gun down. Everybody goes home and we can just forget all about this. Scout’s honor.” I told him, cool as a cucumber.
“Boss? I’ll fuckin kill ya! Give me the damn money!” he screamed, ignoring all reason.
The gas station I work at doesn’t have a conventional alarm system. Our emergency button tucked away under the counter doesn’t summon the authorities. My boss, Carl, didn’t have much want or need for such a thing. He WAS the authority. Everybody in our small town knew it, just like they knew you don’t mess with Carl. You’d have to be a complete moron, or have a death wish to even attempt such a thing. Carl had a reputation, something all of us locals knew all too well. That’s what told me that this guy was from out of town, either that or just a fucking moron.
He got close and prodded me in the ribs hard with whatever was in the bag. It certainly felt like the barrel of a pistol. Here I had been thinking that he was definitely bluffing with an empty bag. Now, I figured it was probably a 50% chance he was bluffing. Despite all that though, I still wasn’t going to give this man a damn dime.
“I told you, sir. I can’t do that” I said, looking him dead in the eye. Maybe if I showed him a sliver of respect, he’d do the respectable thing. Maybe he’d decide to do the RIGHT thing, the SMART thing, and cut his losses.
“You think I’m fucking bluffing? You think this bag’s empty?” he asked, reading my mind. More spittle flung from his mouth with every other word.
I just shrugged, already giving up on trying to save this poor fool from a slow and painful death at the hands of Carl. “Yeah. I sure do. You’re bluffing” I said, resigned in trying to do my good deed for the day.
That was when he took a big step back, lowered the paperbag at my knee, and pulled the trigger. The end of the bag exploded outward and there was a loud pop. Two loud pops, actually, though only milliseconds apart. The first loud pop was the discharge of a gun, the second pop was my kneecap exploding as the small caliber bullet pierced my flesh and shattered bone. I guess he wasn’t bluffing afterall.
I dropped like a stone as my leg decided it could no longer hold my weight, and for good reason. The pain was immense, but bearable. I’d undergone more intense pain at the hands of Carl numerous times, though. At that moment I was afraid. Not of this thug, no, but of what Carl might do to me because of this thug. Carl calls that ‘having your priorities straight’.
“What do you think now?” he screamed in conquest, standing over me and pointing the gun at my face. I could see the emergency button from my spot on the floor. It was between my assailant and I on the underside of the counter. I hadn’t pressed it yet because I was hoping it wouldn’t need to be done, and if I made a dash for it right this second he’d have a bullet in my brain before I could even get close. Nobody wants that kind of headache.
It was at that moment that Thomas came out of the walk-in cooler, the loud latching mechanism clicking shut and giving away his position. He had gone in to stock some beer about twenty minutes ago, and honestly I was hoping that he had seen the situation through the row of glass cooler doors and was going to sneak up and bash the robber’s skull in. He hadn’t. He hadn’t even heard the gunshot due to those goddamn earbuds he wears 24/7. He came sauntering out of the cooler, oblivious to the fact that we were currently being robbed. He looked up just in time to see the barrel of a gun protruding from a crumpled paper bag pointing between his eyes. There was another loud pop, and Thomas’ brains were sprayed along the row of cooler doors. The robber had gotten the jump on him, and he hadn’t stood a chance.
He turned back toward me, gun at my face again.
“You told me nobody else was here, dammit! That right there-” he pointed to Thomas laying in a growing pool of his own blood, “that shit is on you! His death was YOUR fault” he screamed. He was beyond flustered. The situation had just elevated from robbery and assault to murder.
His thumb moved inside the bag and there was a loud audible click, a hammer being pulled back on a gun. By the weak pop the gun had made when he fired it, a .22 caliber I’d imagine. A little Saturday night special revolver, they call ‘em.
“Now that you know I’m done fucking around, open the goddamn register” he said, seemingly calmed down a tad after taking a slow, deep breath.
“Do you even know what kind of shit you’re in, man?” I pleaded with his greater sensibilities. “Even IF Carl don’t get ya, that’s murder over there. Do you know what kind of time you’re looking at for murder? Nevermind the attempted robbery and attempted murder on me. That’s the rest of your life, which will be a real short one if Carl gets you” I stated, trying my hardest not to laugh at just how fucked this moron was. A moron that was gonna get himself killed, or worse, get me in trouble with Carl. Like I said, priorities.
The robber DID laugh, though. “Who the fuck is Carl and why should I give a shit? He’s probably got insurance, kid, and you’re really stupid enough to risk your life over a handful of dollars?”
It was my turn to laugh. “I was just wondering the same thing about you. There’s less than $300 in there, guaranteed. Hell, I know people who’d gladly PAY $300 so nobody would utter their name around Carl. That would be you, if you’re smart.”
He didn’t like that one bit. He decided to pistol whip me this time instead of shooting me. He already saw that the register was bolted to the counter, so he couldn’t just carry it with him. As for trying to open it himself, he’d already tried and given up. The strange rune-like symbols on the screen in the place of buttons were foreign to him, just as they were once foreign to me. Carl always preferred the equipment to be in his native language if possible. Some might call him nostalgic for a bygone era forgotten to history, I on the other hand, call him smart for it. Should some moron ever decide to rob the place, such as this moron, it would prove another hurdle for sure, just as it had today. As much as I feared my boss, I had to hand it to him. I admired his wit.
Dazed and seeing stars from the whack he’d given my head, he started yelling again. I’m not quite sure what he was yelling, only that if I didn’t want another blow to the face or possibly another bullet, I’d better comply. He must think I’m a damn fool. Whatever he could do to me, Carl would make it ten times worse if I let this guy just run off with a single cent of his money. Carl was my master, was this entire village’s master to varying degrees, and I greatly feared how he may reciprocate should all of this put him in one of his moods. The only reason why I agreed to work for him directly here at his store was for fear of what he’d do to my family should I say no. It was a reverse Faustian bargain situation. Carl was a powerful guy in these parts, one you’d rather have as a master if you’re smart.
Another blow to the temple sent me reeling. He was upset, becoming more desperate. He’d been trying to rob the place for damn near 10 minutes at this point. I’m sure that for him, what should have been a quick in and out job that was turning into a lengthy affair was frustrating. It had to be. That’s why I understood where he was coming from completely when he shot me again in my other knee. He finally figured out that mere threats don’t work on people, not where going against Carl is concerned. There’s a town FULL of people here that know that. A graveyard, too.
The pain of one shattered knee was intense, but bearable. Two shattered knees, however, was a little too much. I rolled about and moaned in agony as I clutched my wounds, as if applying pressure would lessen the pain. It didn’t, but the surge of endorphins seemed to help.
I had two chances left, as I saw it.
The first was that damn button, several feet away that I probably wouldn’t reach quick enough. I hit the button and roll the dice with Carl. Maybe he’d be in a grateful mood? I’d have to crawl a good distance to hit it, however, and with two shattered kneecaps and quickly losing blood, I wasn’t exactly spry.
The other chance, and the one that I was hoping and praying for, was that my other coworker, Kris, would finish taking a shit sometime soon and come do what Thomas should have, had he had a shred of situational awareness. He’d been back there for quite a while now, and surely he’d heard something, like I don’t know, maybe the three gunshots? Even if he couldn’t take the guy out completely, he might just distract the asshole long enough for me to crawl my cripple ass over and smash the button.
“You sure are a loyal little prick, I’ll give you that. It’s about to get you killed if you don’t open that register” he said matter of factly. A smile spread across his face. “What’s so special about this Carl guy, huh?”
All I could do was laugh. I couldn’t help it. It wasn’t a matter of loyalty, it was a matter of fear. Are the sheep loyal to the wolf, or do they just know that their chances are better if they don’t do anything to provoke getting bit?
I was still rolling around in agony, laughing like a madman when I heard it. The sounds of a scuffle, a rack of chips being knocked over, the gun going off harmlessly into the ceiling, busting a row of fluorescent lights. I looked up to see that the robber was no longer behind the counter with me. I peeked over the counter to see that he was currently grappling with Thomas out on the floor, who had a firm grasp on the man's wrist as he attempted to wrestle the gun away from him. Thank god for Kris, and his long shit. While he obviously wasn’t quiet or quick enough to initially subdue the guy, he had at least taken him by surprise. I saw my chance to go for the emergency button, and I took it. Carl would probably be pissed, but not as pissed as he’d be if this guy stole from him.
The pain of trying to crawl on my belly with two shattered kneecaps was intense. My useless legs trying to push me forward were enough that I was fighting not to go into shock. Another gunshot rang out on the other side of the counter. Then another. As I inched myself closer and closer toward the button, I realized that things had suddenly gotten quiet. One of those shots had probably hit home, subduing one of the men, but which one? I kept crawling.
The button was just barely out of reach when the robber came walking back around the counter again, the spray of blood from my coworker covering his shirt and his face. I don’t think Kris made it.
He leveled the gun at my face for the final time. His resolve turned to rage as he said “Last chance. Open the fucking register.”
There was no getting out of it now. I made like I was trying to reach up to press the correct sequence of keys, and as soon as I got close enough I smashed the hidden button. “Fuck you” I said, as the lights went out. The series of shutters on the front of the store slammed down with a procession of loud crashes. Together, we plunged into complete darkness, and the last thing I remember seeing was the flash of a gun, as the robber's bullet hit me in the face. I remember feeling a flash of relief, hoping that if I did die, I’d at least be free of Carl in the afterlife. He had been forbidden from that place long ago.
When I woke up, the lights were back on. The shutters were still closed up tight, and as I stood the first thing I noticed was the coppery taste in my mouth. There was an ungodly amount of blood splattered everywhere. The walls, the ceiling, all over the product. It was a bloodbath. Carl had obviously taken his time with the poor bastard.
I looked over just in time to see Kris, still lying on the floor, the bullet hole in his chest slowly closing, and with our boss’s blood staining his mouth and chin. I immediately cowered in fear upon seeing my boss standing over Thomas, his wrist bleeding and pouring a steady stream of dark crimson blood into the place where Thomas’ mouth should have been. His body spasmed, his limbs twisting and contorting with a sickening crunch as Carl’s blood did its supernatural work.
He laughed like the dead would laugh if the joke’s punchline was about life. “You did good, kid” Carl chuckled, not even looking over his shoulder at me. With his preternatural hearing, he tended to hear everything, and knew I was back up. Either that, or he could smell my fear. “Keep it up, and you just might earn yourself a promotion.” I shuddered at the thought.
My knees itched where the newly grown skin had repaired, mending my flesh and bone. No matter how many times he healed me with his blood, I never got used to that odd feeling. It was an itch that never abated, no matter how much you scratched. It would lessen with time, though.
I glanced about, noticing pieces of the asshole scattered here and there. I thought of how stupid he was, and in a way I envied him. It was over for him, but looking like it was going to be a long eternity for me. Lucky bastard.
“I’ll go get the shovels,” I said. He kept them in the utility room around back, right next to his coffin. |
I’ve always been afraid of mirrors. Ever since I was little, I've had these terrible nightmares. I'd be walking around my house at night, cold and sleepy, and I’d get this urge, and I’d go into the bathroom, peek into the mirror, and there would be nothing there. All I saw was an empty bathroom, with nothing looking back at me. It was like I wasn’t even real. Or worse: there would be a face looking back at me, but it wasn’t my face.
I avoided looking at mirrors most of my life. My mom took down all the ones she could, but some were necessary, like the ones in the bathroom, or at the vanity where she put on her makeup. I used to watch her get ready there, sitting half-dressed at the little desk, staring right in the mirror, daring to close her eyes and put stuff on her eyelids. It would creep me the hell out. When I had to wash my hands in the bathroom, I’d do it from the side, so the mirror couldn’t see me. Sometimes I taped paper over the mirrors, but it annoyed her if I did that too much, so I only did when she was out.
Of course, it affected my social life. If anyone tried playing Bloody Mary at a sleepover, I had to call my mom to come get me. So that didn’t make me popular, but I probably wouldn’t have been anyway. I couldn’t pluck my eyebrows, and going to the salon was a nightmare—sitting in front of those big mirrors made me sweat like a dog, so my mom always cut my hair at home, in the kitchen. People never complimented my haircut, but at least she kept it out of my eyes.
When I moved out, I spent days hunting at Goodwill, picking out the dullest, least-shiny appliances I could. I worked from home, where I kept my own mirrors covered constantly, and I never opened my blinds. The only time I glimpsed my reflection was at other peoples’ houses, or at restaurants. Clearly, I didn’t get out much, and when I did have to use the bathroom in public places, I took deep breaths, averted my eyes, and counted down the seconds until I could dry my hands and get the fuck out. I could have used more therapy, obviously—but what, am I rich or something?
It’s not so bad to let a phobia run your life. I just don’t make a big deal out of it. Really, it only became a problem when my mom died. Lots of things became a problem then. How was I supposed to live in a world where my mom was dead? Also, who was going to cut my hair now?
My mom didn’t have a lot, and what little she had was inarguably mine, so I hired a probate attorney with the promise of a pittance from her estate. Even though there was no contest, it took forever to wrap things up, and talk to the banks, and work it out with the mortgage people. The house sat empty for a long time, until I was ready to hold her wake.
The wake was small and casual. My mom was never fussy, so we ordered pizza, sat around talking, and I got gravely wasted off boxed wine. Her old shift supervisor put me to bed that night, tucking the blankets around my shoulders while I sobbed. I woke up badly nauseated, with a pillow snugly tucked against my back, keeping me from rolling over. That was nice of them.
I opened my eyes and saw something shifting in the shadows of the room.
I remembered how this worked, of course. Like I was a kid again, I held completely, utterly still. I didn’t even breathe, which was a mistake. I held my breath so long that I involuntarily inhaled with a tiny hiss. I waited, and waited, head swimming and stomach churning, then peeked out through slitted eyes. They had put me to bed in my mom’s old room, probably thinking it was mine now, and her old vanity mirror pointed right at me. I couldn’t make out my reflection, but I’d seen something moving. I could hear it still, a faint rustling, like an animal in the walls. That happened at night, in this house.
I stayed there for a long time, until my rippling gut let me know I couldn’t wait much longer. I threw off the blankets and dashed down the hall, into the bathroom, kneeling over the toilet just in time. The vomit burned through my throat, and my stomach cramped from convulsions, and I was crying as my uncut hair dipped into the toilet water. My mother was dead, and there was no one in the world who loved me now. Who cared if I died?
I flushed the toilet and clumsily patted the ends of my hair with toilet paper. I didn’t do a great job; I was probably still a little drunk. I swayed for a moment, trying to decide if I needed to throw up more, but decided to be optimistic about it. I went to wash my hands. I forgot I’d removed the paper for the wake, knowing my mom would have been embarrassed for all her friends and coworkers to see it, to know I hadn’t grown out of my fear in any meaningful way. I was looking right at the mirror before I even knew what was happening. And there was someone looking back.
It wasn’t me. I knew what I looked like from pictures. This face had pale-white skin, roughly-shorn hair, and a cold, hard stare. This face hated me. This face had always hated me. It pressed up against the mirror from the wrong side, its wet rotten teeth clacking against the surface, its white fuzzy tongue slathering all over the mirror. It wanted me. It wanted out.
I tried to scream, but nothing came out; my throat was still weak from the vomit. I fled the bathroom and bolted down the hall, running so fast I pitched forward and
…
One of my mom's friends had stayed over to make sure I made it through the night okay, and heard when I didn’t. They took shifts beside my hospital bed over the next few days. My concussion wasn’t too bad, but the doctors were worried about my state of mind. I’d come in on the brink of alcohol poisoning, crying about faces in the mirror, and I’d recently suffered such a grievous loss. I heard them whispering about it in the hallway. There was no one in the world who loved me or could take care of me, so they wanted to observe me for a few days, make sure I was okay. Like it was helpful to saddle me with additional medical bills, but they didn’t listen when I argued about that.
“You’re okay, honey,” said my mom’s old coworker, a smoker with stained fingers and sweet eyes. “We’ll help you.”
“I can’t take your help,” I lied. Though my mom wouldn’t have liked it, I took the envelope of cash she handed me at the end of my stay without further protest. It didn’t cover the whole bill, but a good enough chunk that I stopped thinking about killing myself for practical reasons, and got left with just the emotional ones.
I stayed out of my mom’s house for as long as I could. I couldn’t bear to go back there, where I’d seen the thing in the mirror. I knew I’d just been drunk, hysterical, having a nightmare, an episode of sleep paralysis, hallucinating from grief (one or maybe all of these things) but the thought of going back made me want to die. But the lease on my apartment was ending, the few friends I had were distancing themselves, and my mom’s friends had done enough for me already. So I went home.
I taped so much paper over the mirror, then I leaned a big cutting board over it. It wouldn’t keep the creature in—not that there was really a creature—but it made me feel a little better. I drank as little water as I could, and, most of the time when I had to pee, I crouched over the kitchen sink. I realize this was a major problem, but come on. I’d just lost my mom, so I had other things to worry about, like how to pay the mortgage, or what to do with mountains of worthless stuff. She’d kept every baby drawing I’d ever made, even the meaningless scribbles. Even a mother’s love shouldn’t have made her like those, but my mom was special.
My mom specialized in not throwing out anything. We were too poor to be choosy, she would tell me, when I said something or another was expired. She collected cans of food and microwavable bags of rice, but thankfully she seemed to have eased up on that since I’d left the house. She had hardly anything left in the pantry.
I called over a couple of her friends to come forage through her knickknacks and portraits and whatever else was left. They were all woo-woo old ladies who seemed like they’d be into the *c h e r i s h* or *coffee, love, faith* word art decor my mom had favored. They seemed happy to have the opportunity to come check up on me, and I was happy for them to take the cheesy signs off my hands.
Sonja, my mom’s old shift supervisor, had to use the bathroom while she was there. She seemed tearful when she came out of the bathroom, and gave me an extra-long hug goodbye.
“I know you have your thing about mirrors,” she said. Of course, she’d seen the setup I had in the bathroom. “I don’t know if I oughta tell you this, but your mom was a bit the same. She never wanted to tell you; said it wouldn’t help.”
“My mom was scared of mirrors too?” I asked. No way. She used to march me into the bathroom in the middle of the night, when I’d been bothering her too much, and force me to look. At some point, a school counselor made her stop.
“Just a little,” said Sonja, and sniffled. “She said sometimes she’d have these dreams, and that she wouldn’t see her reflection. They only started when you guys moved here. Sorry, baby, I know this probably didn’t help. I just think you have the right to know. This house don’t feel right, not to me. Please be safe.”
I thanked her for telling me and stood there for a long time after she left, feeling lost. My mom had never even hinted that she had a thing about mirrors. She made a point of loving them in front of me, always checking her reflection in car windows and shopfronts. It had never occurred to me she might have been trying to set an example.
Sonja said the nightmares only started after we moved into this house. I’d been so little when we moved here; I wouldn’t have known. I did know there was something wrong with our house. We didn’t talk about it. Sometimes we heard scratching in the walls, or sobbing. Things moved around at night. Sometimes you couldn’t see your reflection in the mirror.
My mom always ignored it, ignored me. She said the house was normal and fine and I was weird and wrong. When I begged to move, she yelled at me until I stopped asking. Everything was fine, and I was too scared, too silly, too imaginative. Since my mom was dead now, and I’d inherited what little she had, and I understood now that we never could have afforded to move.
I didn’t let myself think. I went right to the bathroom and tore down the paper. There I was: scared, silly, and imaginative. I pulled my face, moved my head, tried to escape the face in the mirror, but I couldn’t. It was normal. There was nothing in the mirror but me.
My heart was beating fast, but I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. I was real. I was grown up. I was motherless. I had to take care of myself. I took that cutting board off the floor and I threw it right at the face in the mirror.
The mirror shattered, but it didn’t. A few pieces fell to the sink, but I still saw my reflection. There was something behind the mirror—there was another mirror.
It didn’t make any sense. I couldn’t breathe. I threw the cutting board again, and there was a bigger shattering sound, a crumpling, and I heard the mirror shards falling to the floor on the other side of the wall.
I peeked though. It was dark on the other side. If I let myself think, I'd run screaming. So I pulled out my phone flashlight to get a better look. Peering through, I saw a little room on the other side of the mirror. It looked just like my bathroom. It had the same wallpaper, the same towel hanger we hardly used, the same doorstop on the wall.
I used shampoo bottles to knock out the rest of the glass shards. I kept a large shard clutched in my hand carefully, as a weapon, and then I clambered onto the sink and climbed through. There was broken glass sliding under my slippers, and I felt it pricking the bottoms of my feet. I turned around, inspecting.
On the other side of the small room, where I couldn't have seen from the mirror, there was a little nest made out of what looked like old blankets. I recognized some—the Scooby-Doo blanket we thought I’d left in McDonald’s, the quilt my grandma had made for my mom when I was born. She'd blamed me for losing it. They were soiled, blackened and dirty. They smelled. There was a toilet and a sink, which didn't work. There was a door that didn’t open, to my relief, no matter how hard I tugged.
I turned to look at the hole I’d climbed through. There was a wire bent above the mirror. I reached up, and realized it was attached to a wooden square, which had been the frame for the mirror before I’d shattered it. It was removable from this side. I took it down. There were still shards embedded at the top of the hole, on the side where my bathroom was. I saw that they were only glass, perfectly see-through. Not a mirror.
There had never been a mirror in our bathroom. There was a glass window, and the mirror someone hung up against it, facing outwards, and which they took down sometimes, at night.
What if it came back and saw I'd found its spot? I climbed out as fast as I could, splitting open my forearms in the process. I barricaded the bathroom door before calling the police. The dispatcher was skeptical about my story; maybe that's why it took the cops hours to show up. I paced the living room the whole time I waited, picking at my new scabs, flinching at every sound. They showed up, greeted me without interest, went into the batheoom and came back out, delighted.
“This is a weird one,” one commented to me. “Listen. Whoever’s been livin there is long gone. You said the house been unoccupied? How long?”
“Um,” I said. “A few months. Since my mom died.”
“Sorry to hear that,” he said, perfunctorily. “Listen. Oh man. I’m guessin they’ve been eatin your food, living off you like some kinda critter. Can you imagine?”
“Um,” I said.
“When you left, we’re guessin they ran out of food. And moved on.”
“How long were they here?” I demanded. I wanted to keep talking, make it clear how serious a problem this was, but I couldn’t think. I just said it again. “How—how long?”
“God,” he said, with admiration. “Coulda been decades. That glass panel y’all thought was a mirror? It was detachable, like a little door, y’know? They could climb out whenever they wanted, so. How long you been livin here? Food ever go missin? Y’all ever hear somebody movin around at night?”
“Yes,” I said, and began to cry. He patted me on the back for a while, then went to find his partner, where I overheard them gossiping like teenagers in the bathroom. They just loved it, couldn’t believe it, couldn’t wait to tell the boys.
When they left, I don’t even know if they filed a report. They didn’t seem to think it was a real problem, and even congratulated me on their way out, for conjuring up a spare half-bath. They pointed out that it would have connected to my mom’s room, but that the door had been boarded up for some reason. They doubted I could save the old blankets, and recommended burning them.
I considered calling Sonja, but it’s not the type of story you tell an old lady, especially not one who’d picked out the silliest of my mom’s word art decor (*With ☆ GOD ☆ all ☆ THINGS ☆ are ☆ POSSIBLE*). So I wrote this post. I didn’t know what else to do.
I haven’t repaired the mirror yet. I honestly feel better about having a hole in the wall instead. That way I can make sure nobody’s in it. I worry that the person who lived there is going to come back somehow.
But to be honest, lately I’ve started to consider repairing the hole, getting another glass panel set up and buying another mirror for the other side. I can’t keep up with the mortgage payments, and the bank’s been sending me increasingly URGENT letters. I’m afraid to open them. Sooner or later, something’s going to happen, and I’m going to lose the house. The only thing I can think to do is come with the house in secret. The idea sounds better and better to me lately.
After all, wouldn’t it be nice to be on the other side of the mirror for once? |
My parents noticed it first. They’d buried our old dog in the backyard after he died, and they watched three-year-old me petting the air above his grave. They found it touching, but they didn’t think much of it until they took me to visit my grandmother’s grave for the first time. I was five, and they said I was hugging my father's leg as I asked why the sleeping people were glowing yellow.
After that, my parents realized I had an unusual gift, and they helped me study it and develop it. We ended up calling the hovering, glowing shadow that corpses emit “glowmains”. By the time I was fourteen, we were roaming forests, alleys, abandoned sites, and sailing around the bay, locating bodies and sending anonymous tips to the police. We felt it was important for their deaths to be given proper respect and closure.
My parents and I agreed a long time ago to never reveal my gift out of fear of me getting taken away for experiments. We had no idea how I’d come to possess this ability, and we were okay with that … but now, I think I’m close to finding out!
A few days ago, just after my sixteenth birthday, my grandfather got sick and my parents had to travel across the country to be by his side. I was old enough to be on my own for a few days, and I also had just started school, so I stayed behind. They made me promise not to go body hunting without them, but a few days after they called and said they were extending their stay for another week, I couldn’t help myself.
We had a half-day of school today, and after class, I ran home, grabbed one of my many cheap galoches, and took a one-hour bus ride to the abandoned hospital at the edge of town. We'd been meaning to check it out for a while, and I was excited to see how many bodies I could help find proper respect.
After sneaking into the building, I walked around, ignoring the glowmains of rats and lizards until I came across a human-shaped one. This one was very bright, which meant it was a fresh body. The closer I got to it, the bigger and clearer it became, until it was the size of a full-grown man right at my feet. The corpse was under a ratty blanket, but I knew he was curled up in the fetal position, just like his glowmains hovering over him.
He must’ve been a homeless man who died alone in this old, empty building. With sorrow tugging at my heart, I made a note of his location before I walked around some more, searching the quiet, dusty halls for others. Turning to a window, I froze in my tracks at the sight of dozens of glowmains in the desiccated garden, bigger than those of the birds and squirrels. I ran out and made a beeline to the closest one, and I grimaced at its shape. It was of a guy on his back, his decapitated head beside his feet. It was small, which meant the body was buried quite deep in the ground.
I ran to another, and I put a hand to my mouth, a chill trickling down my spine. This one had each leg split into three from thigh to toes, their skin in tatters. My heart hammered as I whipped around, my wide eyes scanning this morbid graveyard and its hundreds of mutilated glowmains. This had to be some murder cult’s dump site or something. I had to report it.
And I had to get out of here.
My body hunting over for the day, I ran out of the hospital gates and dashed towards the bus stop, only stopping to ditch the galoches. My heart continued jittering the entire way home, and I only let out a shaky sigh of relief once I ran through the front door and clicked the lock shut.
After collecting myself, I went to my mother's computer and called the police through the untraceable system she’d set up, leaving an anonymous tip on where to find the bodies. My parents usually did this, but there was no way I was letting them know I broke their rules. I’d seen them do these calls often enough and I was certain I set it up properly.
Not a minute later, my mother called, and I stared at my phone, terrified she knew I’d accessed the computer. With my heart in my throat, I answered, and I let out a relieved breath when all they wanted to do was check up on me and give me updates on my grandfather and his upcoming surgery.
Satisfied I’d done a good job all on my own, I decided to go out and celebrate. After calling my friends and arranging for a movie night, I grabbed a quick bite, showered, and primped up before slinging on my purse and making my way to the bus stop. With the fall sunsets, I always kept my phone’s flashlight open for safety when I passed by alleys …
... but all the good that did me today.
Barely a block from home, a hand covered my mouth as I was dragged away and shoved inside a van, my phone cracking on the sidewalk. My screams scoured my throat as tape was pressed over my lips and a bag slipped over my head, my hands and feet bound with chains.
Once their hands were off me, I frantically scooted away until my back hit the side of the van. Trembling, I curled up into myself, trying to hold back tears as I wondered if these were members of the murder cult, upset I’d reported their dump site. Maybe my call wasn’t as anonymous as I’d hoped. Maybe the police were in on it.
Dread pierced my already beleaguered heart as I also realized they might ask how I knew there were bodies buried there. I had to get out of this situation with my life and my secret intact.
Despite my overwhelming fear, I tried to escape as I began twisting my wrists against the chains, but to my shock, someone hoisted me onto their shoulder and began walking. They’d just thrown me in here, and now they were carrying me out before driving anywhere? I shifted my terrified efforts into struggling, but all that did was make them dig their fingers deeper into my thigh to hold me steady.
I gasped as they flung me forward, and I grunted in pain as my butt landed on something hard, my bound feet dangling. The bag was removed off my head, and I winced at the bright light aimed directly at my face. Squinting, I looked around, and my dread grew at the sight of bare cement walls, floors, and ceilings. Where was I?
Perched on a thin wooden stool, I wobbled as I turned to glance behind me, and three stern men and a woman looked back, their eyes piercing green, their burly physique intimidating. I didn't know if they were cops, but I was certain they were killers. From the murder cult I'd tattled on. And now I was at their mercy.
The woman reached over in the blink of an eye, and I flinched as she ripped the tape off my mouth.
“Now we may begin.”
I gasped and turned to the front again, towards the voice, and my frightened gaze landed on the silhouette of a man walking towards me. He stood within kicking distance, but I didn’t dare make a move. He remained silent for a while, studying me, and I gulped as I tried to study him back. The bright light behind him didn’t allow for much detail, but I could smell his cologne and see the shine of his shoes.
"You reported bodies buried in the old Mercy Care Hospital. We have people in the force who traced the call to your address. Who told you about the bodies and why?"
My mouth hung open as fear paralyzed my mind. He'd inadvertently given me an out. I could put the blame on somebody else. But I didn't know what the safest thing to say was.
The man stepped closer. “If you don’t tell me how you knew about the bodies, I’ll make you tell me.”
I flinched, drawing back. “It … it was an a-anonymous call," I said, my trembling voice cracking.
He sighed. “Then it must come to this.”
He reached for me, and I broke as I shied away and cried out, “I saw their glowmains!”
“You saw their what?”
Still cowering into myself, I squeezed my eyes shut, regret coating my frazzled heart as I began to weep. “I saw their glowmains," I whispered.
He stepped back. “What are glowmains?”
“The d-dead, they … they have hovering, glowing shadows.”
“Stop crying and explain it to me.”
I winced at his harsh tone, my breaths hitching as I swallowed my last sob. “I d-don’t know how it works. I just … see it. It … it’s the shape of the dead body. Floating d-directly over them. Always in air. If they’re buried, the glow is above the ground where they’re b-buried. If they’re in the water, it’s above the surface where they are. The smaller it is, the d-deeper they are. The brighter it is, the f-fresher they are.”
He remained silent for a while, and antsy anticipation gnawed at my nerves. He now knew what I could do, and what he planned on doing with that information was a mystery that terrified me.
“Unchain her,” he said to his goons as he turned off the bright light.
I blinked in surprise as they followed his orders. Now no longer blinded, I could finally make out my interrogator’s features. He was just as tall as the thugs who worked for him, but he was less burly with greener eyes. He also looked older and more polished, his hair longer, his dark skin flawless, his face clean-shaven, his canines prominent, his black suit a far cry from their jeans and leather jackets.
He put his hand to his ear and spoke in a strange language before he said to me, “I’m taking you to meet my mother."
Baffled, I stood up on shaky legs and rubbed my sore wrists. “Who’s your mother?”
“She’ll let you know. Follow me.”
“B-but why are you—”
“If you won’t come with me voluntarily, I’ll have my team escort you.”
I tensed up and shot a glance behind me at his goons’ scowling faces. “No, n-no, I’ll come.”
Gathering my courage, I followed him, his team behind us. After walking through a drab, gray hall with no doors, we reached a dead end. My confusion didn’t last long as a hidden door slid open, revealing an elevator. Only my interrogator and I entered, my unease increasing by the second as the door slid closed. There were no buttons inside, and even after the man tapped his bracelet against the wall, we didn’t seem to move. Frowning, I turned to him, only to look back at the door in surprise when it opened to reveal a vast, black marble office.
“Mika, please bring our guest in,” a woman said, her voice echoing.
I had to squint to see her behind a glass desk at the far end of the room. A huge emerald chandelier hung above our heads as we walked past marble statues and pedestals holding fancy vases, the metallic scent in the cold air intermingling with that of leather. We finally made it to the lady's desk, and she stood up and gestured to a couch across from her desk.
“Have a seat, dear.”
Shivering, I sank into the soft leather and hugged myself, feeling the effect of her authority already. She didn’t seem much older than her son, and she was also extremely pale. She must have adopted him. She was as beautiful as he was handsome, her canines just as prominent, but her green eyes were so bright they seemed to be glowing as power and confidence radiated off her.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“S-Serena,” I replied after a second of hesitation.
“Serena, welcome. I’m Cassiopeia.”
I eyed her as she smiled and walked over with a red, wool shawl, and I flinched when she draped it over my shoulders.
“Don't be scared," she said, sitting beside me. "We won't hurt you. I apologize for the way you've been treated, we assumed you were working with the enemy."
"Enemy?" I asked, pulling the shawl tight around me. "Wh-what enemy?"
"That isn't important right now. What I'm interested in is your case. My son tells me you have the gift of seeing the glow of the dead. It’s a very rare gift for a human to have.”
Shock merged with my unease. “Wait, you … you know about gifts like this?”
“I’ve heard of creatures that possess such an ability.”
“Creatures? What creatures?”
“I’ll let you know once you give me more details about your gift. You've had the gift for as long as you remember, haven't you?"
I never imagined divulging my secret before, but now it was out, and despite my apprehension, I wanted answers. “Yes.”
“Your parents don't possess the same gift, do they?”
“No.”
“Do you see this glow for every dead body?”
I nodded. “Not plants or bugs, b-but everything else, yes.”
“You said the brighter the glow, the fresher the body. How long does the body have to be dead before the glow is completely extinguished.”
“I … I don’t know. My grandma died ten years before I was born a-and I can still see her glowmains in the graveyard.”
"And how old are you?"
"Sixteen."
She smiled. “That’s wonderful."
“It is?”
“Yes.” She reached over and held my hands. “Tell me, Serena, what do you do with your gift?”
Feeling at ease, I smiled back. “My parents and I find bodies in the woods and alleys and the bay and stuff and we report them to the police.” My smile vanished. “Why do you guys have a graveyard full of mutilated bodies in the hospital garden?”
That question had been writhing in my mind, and I felt a strange compulsion to ask it just now. Horror wrung my heart, but Cassiopiea’s words soothed it.
“There are no bodies in the hospital garden.” She rubbed her thumbs over the back of my hands. “Trust me. You do trust me, don't you?”
I nodded, sighing in relief. “Yes.”
“Wonderful. Now, tell me Serena, have you ever had a DNA test done?”
“No, and I don’t need to. I know my parents are my parents.”
“They could very well be your parents, but as I’ve heard, certain creatures have a way of injecting their DNA into other species. If you don’t mind, we’d like to take a sample of your blood to run a DNA test.”
“You?”
“Yes. We have our own labs. And with our knowledge, we’ll focus on areas other labs would gloss over.” She smiled, holding my hands tighter. “You are interested in finding out the source of your gift, aren’t you?”
I gave her an eager nod. “Yes, I am.”
“Wonderful! Mika, please draw a vial of Serena’s blood.”
Mika grimaced. "The lab can do it later."
"Mika," Cassiopeia said in a warning tone. "Let's not keep our guest waiting. I have the kit on my desk."
Mika, still grimacing, walked over and snapped on the gloves with irritation, and I tensed up. “I’m … I’m afraid of needles.”
“Just look at me and relax.” Cassiopeia said. “It will be over before you know it.”
Her green eyes drew me in, and I smiled. “Okay, I’m okay.”
“And it's over before it started!"
"Wha ...?" I looked down at my arm in shock to see my sleeve rolled up, gauze taped to my inner elbow.
“How ... how did you do that so f-fast?” I asked, turning to Mika in bewildered discomfort.
"Experience," he replied, snapping off the gloves in disgust.
Cassiopeia squeezed my hands and scooted closer. “Serena, I would like you to do something for me.”
I turned back to her. “What do you want me to do?”
“My only brother Perseus was murdered fifteen years ago by one of our rivals.”
“Oh, no, I’m so sorry,” I said, my heart dropping with sorrow.
“I am too, that I wasn’t able to save him. I’ve been trying to locate his body and bring him home for a proper burial, but I’ve been unsuccessful. This is where I ask for your help. We have certain locations where we believe his body could have been dumped. To save us from searching the entire area, you could point out his body's glow if you see it.”
“But I don’t know what he looks like. And even if I did, glowmains don’t have a lot of detail.”
“He’s easy to identify. He only had one leg. And he would be decapitated.”
I winced. “Oh …”
“Please, Serena.” She ran her thumb over my knuckles. “Perseus and I built this business together and it pains me that his body is so far from home. Are you willing to help me so that my brother can rest in peace?”
I couldn’t help but reply, “Yes, of course I’ll help you.”
"Do you promise?"
"Yes."
She cupped my hands in hers. “Thank you so much, you’re an angel. Tell me, Serena, is anyone expecting you tonight?”
“No, my parents are across the country with my grandpa because he’s sick,” I replied without hesitation. “But they do call me every day. I was also supposed to meet my friends at the movies tonight. I should call them and tell them I didn’t bail on purpose. I don’t want bad blood between us.”
“How long will your parents be away?”
"Only a few more days, unless my grandpa's surgery goes bad.”
“Wonderful. Listen, Serena. We would like you to stay with us tonight, so that we may begin our search tomorrow.”
“What? Stay here?”
“Yes. We’ve recovered your purse and SIM, and we can give you a new phone so that you may talk to your parents and friends.”
“I get a new phone?” I asked with delight.
She smiled. “Yes, the latest version. Just promise not to tell your parents, friends, or the police about what happened today.”
“Oh, I won’t. I wasn’t supposed to be body hunting by myself today. My parents would ground me if they found out. And no one else knows about my gift, so I won't tell anyone anything.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Wonderful. I hope you enjoy your stay with us.” She let go of my hands and stood up. “Mika, please escort our guest to her room.”
And here I am, in this awesome room with the softest bed and newest phone. They even gave me cookies and milk for dinner! I just finished talking to my parents and apologizing to my friends, and I can’t wait to help Cassiopeia find her brother tomorrow!
\-----
\-----
|
So, for context, I'm visiting my late grandpa's house as usual. I decided to explore his house and managed to find a strange place in his basement. His house was built like, in 2005. I discovered that the strange place was a apartment!
I'm not really sure how his house was built above a very old apartment but technology is kind of weird by itself. The apartment was built around 1927 in early July, very cool. It closed down in March 14th 1999. I'm guessing the apartment was like around 70 years old.
I also found this diary from a guy named Michael B. Its strange so I decided to share it with you guys. Honestly it gave me the chills.
'Diary Entry 1 - March 15th, 1999
Today was amazing. I woke up feeling great, fresh and ready for life! Mrs. Delilah delivered me her famous Gumbo and it was great. Life has never been better! I'm feeling tired after a long day of work, so I'll take a nap.
Diary Entry 2 - March 15th, 1999 (continuation)
So..I woke up just as any normal person would do after nap. But, something wasn't normal. My room is dark right now and I'm currently using the flashlight Mr.Norman gave me. All my furniture is gone for some reason..am I getting evicted? I mean, I pay my rent on time and it's always the designated price. I'm scared. The room is cold, empty and eerily quiet. I found a piece of paper that was in the place of where my phone would've been. It looks like it was ripped and written in a hurry. It read 'Do you know where you are?' What the actual hell? What does this creepy note mean? Where are my things? Where am I?
Diary Entry 3 - March 16th, 1999
Finally got the courage to leave my room today. The hallway outside was..unrecognizable. The lights kept flickering, it emitted a haunting buzzing sound, casting eerie shadows on old, yellow painted walls. The carpet was semi-wet and it had horrible, musty old odor.
I don't think this is my apartment building..it can't be. I walked carefully down the hallway and the only sounds were the buzzing of lights, creaky carpet floor and echoes of my own steps. I reached to Mrs.Delilahs door, and my heart sank.
Mrs. Delilah, the kind elderly woman who lived in-front of my apartment door, was like a second grandmother to me. She'd always greet me in a warm smile while music of the 40's would play in her room. This time, her door wasn't answered. Its like she also vanished.
Diary Entry 4 - March 17th, 1999
I've explored the entire apartment, but there wasn't any trace of someone..or someTHING. Its like I got transferred to a place I'm not familiar with. The entire building is empty, all hallways seems so..endless. The only sounds still are the horrible flickering lights and its loud buzzing noises.
Miraculously, I found a phone! But, when I tried to call 999, nothing happened. Theres no signal. I'm trapped here with no way out.
Diary Entry 5 - March 20th, 1999
It's been 5 whole days ever since this fucking nightmare started. The solitude is so unbearable. Is this hell? I don't know where I am, how I even got here or why my world seems so strange and replaced with this hell of a nightmare.
I've knocked on Mr.Norman's door countless of times trying to find at least one person, but no answers. I did the same with Mrs.Delilah's door, but theres nothing. I'm truly beginning to believe I'm alone in this hell.
The walls are like closing into me, I feel like I'm being watched when theres nothing in sight. I've searched this building multiple times and no one is here but me. I feel so much pressure in my mind, I'm starting to question my own sanity.
I don't think I'll be able to write anymore. But I just hope that someone, somewhere, will find my Diary and find out what happened to me. But with each day passing, I fear I'm going more mad. I don't think theres a way back. My only solution now is to end it all and set my soul free. If you find this, my name is Michael and I'm 34 years old.
Diary Entry 6 - March 25th, 1999
I feel numb. I can feel everything happen all at once. My bones are wet, my brain is throbbing. ANIMUS LIBERABITUR ET VIDEOBO FELICITATEM!'
This is just creepy as hell. What happened to Michael? Did he just fall into madness? Theres no scientific explanation for what the actual hell happened to him..I feel bad, honestly. And how did my grandpa get this? I just have so many questions. |
The staffing agency could send me anywhere. Packing wine glasses into styrofoam moulds one week, driving a forklift around a yard the next. Doesn’t bother me. I’ve got to say though, this new place was a little odd. It’s a warehouse full of parts for household appliances. Rubber pipes, sealing caps, cables wound up into tight coils, steel elbow joints. The long and short of it is they give you a trolley somewhat similar to the ones they sell refreshments from on a train, along with a scanner gun and some sheets of paper containing barcodes. Wheel the trolley to the location, scan the barcode, put the item on the trolley, repeat. Once your trolley is full, you go and see Doris, a weepy-eyed elderly lady, who has her helpers empty it. Then you do the same again. For twelve hours.
At the start of the shift, Doris hands us the papers, and off we go. A small army of trolley-pushers navigating labyrinthine aisles under sharp electric lights. Ventilation was poor and the ceiling was low, which made the dust inescapable. Items stored in the far reaches of the warehouse were the worst for it because they were so rarely selected. Disturbing layers of dust centimetres thick was no good for the respiratory tract, especially for a smoker like me. It was a bad habit I picked up after my wife died, and that was nigh on twenty years ago. Time that should’ve healed had only layered on more apathy. I mused tiredly about the person who’d designed the warehouse floor-plan. Stock was sequenced so that the more frequently chosen items were stored closer to Doris’s counter, and the aisles were labelled alphabetically.
“Z06? This correct?” I said when Doris handed me the sheet one morning.
“Yes.” She said without looking up. She licked her fingertip and dished out another sheet. Stock requests for items housed in the aisles beyond perhaps aisle T, were rare. You might see one come through every fortnight.
At Z06, I coughed through a cloud of dust to retrieve some kind of pipe sealed in bubble wrap. When I put it on the trolley, the lights cut out. I stood, assuming it was a prolonged flicker. Seconds went by. I felt subtle shifts in the air around me.
“Hello?”
The lights came back on. I reported the malfunction to the maintenance guy, who grunted. The next day, I was given Z10, Z11 and Z14.
“This can’t be right.” I said.
“It is.” Doris replied.
Puddles had appeared overnight at the entrance to aisle Z. A roof leak. These locations were deeper down the aisle. Once again, the lights went out. I waited. A faint crackling sound echoed from further down. Something brushed my leg. The lights came back on and I lurched out of the aisle, dropping a web of black cables as I went. The next day, I called in sick.
On my return, I snatched the paper from Doris’s hand. Z08, Z31, Z35, Z41 and Z42.
“This has got to be wrong. I mean, who’s ordering this stuff? The lights don’t even work down there! And the ceiling! It has a giant leak!”
“It’s a puddle.” Doris said.
“Can’t someone else take this sheet?”
“You refusin’ to do the work allocated to you, sir?”
I ground my teeth.
“No.”
I started down aisle Z, sweating despite the cold. The trolley wheels rotated slowly. I grabbed the filter from Z08 and the refrigerator shelves from Z31 and Z35. Z41 and Z42 were the last two locations on the aisle. I craned my head as I approached because they didn’t seem to hold any stock. It was a dark recess. I could see the black cabling I had dropped a couple of days prior. It had been woven between the edges of the recess and wrapped around the exoskeleton of the storage rack. Coiled into the cable were several creatures. Rats, mice, some larger insects. They dangled lifeless in the taut, intricate design. At this point, the lights abandoned me again. I turned and ran, bouncing off the trolley and a shelf as I went. Behind me I heard frantic movement. The scuttling of many legs. I left immediately and won’t be returning. |
As we crawled along the air vent, I felt like Bruce Willis in Diehard—albeit a skinnier and less alpha John McClane. *Come out to Alaska, we'll make a virus, have a few laughs…*
Behind me came Karen's grunt of disgust as she struggled in the tight space. Who would have known that when we had signed the divorce papers last year, we would one day find ourselves crawling above our workspace, while the virus we had been working on was currently swimming in the veins of our infected colleagues who lurked below.
Not me, anyway.
Jeffrey's office—which we were making for—was found on the opposite side of the laboratory. In a twisted sort of way, our little journey allowed us an aerial view of the damage wrought by Virus X-93, like that of a news reporter flying over a bombed city.
I counted fifteen dead and a further twelve infected. This gave a total of thirty people (including myself, Karen and Jeffrey), but did not account for everyone. Including the janitor, there should have been thirty-one of us (I did the scheduling).
Sadly, as we crawled through the vents, we witnessed this missing person, Dr Eckhart's, end. We were halfway over the main laboratory when a person crawled out from underneath a bench. Why he left the relative safety of his hiding place, we'll never know, but one can only assume that his nerve broke and he wanted to make a run for it. Hoping that a safer place existed. It did not, and his clumsy movements attracted the attention of the nearby infected, who mercilessly ran him down as he tried to flee.
Above, we watched, horrified. It wasn't so much the screams of pain but the infected's enjoyment of the suffering. One even began to laugh like a hyena, a cold, calculated chuckle that made me believe they were more intelligent than I first thought. They had an awareness of each other, as if they were a primitive primate society.
It made me almost grateful that we hadn't been able to overcome the hydrophobia symptom which would ultimately see them perish. At best, they had a lifespan of 3 days. During my years working on Virus X-93, whenever I watched or read anything remotely to do with zombies, this was almost my first point of argument. All living things, down to the smallest organisms, needed water. Failing to replenish H2O would ultimately restrict muscular movement, and the many hours I had watched infected mice refuse to take a drink almost felt like a blessing now.
In summary, therefore, there is no evidence to believe that even in the event of an outbreak of Virus X-93, human extinction would be remotely possible. Perhaps lower than zero-point zero one percent. Yes, you drop a couple of infected in Times Square and all hells gonna break loose, but humans would quickly outlast and eradicate the threat. Even if we are a stupid bunch.
Nothing to worry about then? No, I guess not, other than I have to escape the underground laboratory…
I came to the opening in the vent above Jeffrey's office and opened the grate. For all my clever observations, it wasn't really going to help me if the infected smashed through the glass panels into Jeffrey's office.
I swung down from the duct and was thankful the blinds were closed. Karen followed afterwards and the last to descend was a red-faced Jeffrey.
"They have lots of energy," he whispered to me. "Think the mutation we performed—"
"That's enough," Karen hissed. "Can you two stop it?"
I did not answer, but was actually glad Karen had interrupted. Being inside Jeffrey's office with the blinds closed made my imagination run wild. I had images of them kissing, while I, oblivious to the world, walked past. Being the sucker I was, I bet I had walked past, daydreaming about alterations to the virus, while Jeffrey was behind the glass with my wife …
"Yes," I whispered. "Let's get the power to the elevators back on and get the hell out of here."
Jeffrey nodded, and crouched over towards his desk, opening the sleek laptop. When he lifted the screen, it made a loud PING, a noise which seemed to reverberate around not only the laboratory—but the whole of Alaska.
*PIIINNNNGG. We're down here, come get us!*
We held our breath, waiting for it—the infected zoning in on us. But they never came, and Jeffrey wiped the sweat from his brow and started typing in the password to the laptop.
Karen and I waited near the air vent. You better believe that we would have been up that grate faster than you can say "Jeffrey" had the infected smashed into the office.
As we waited, Karen and I made eye contact for a second. I had expected a cold look, but instead she gave me a smile. A smile tainted with sadness that read: *what happened to us, Frank?*
I looked away. *I don't know what happened*.
You couldn't have got a tighter couple when we first started dating. We were that couple who you knew truly loved each other; the one's others would look for small signs to comfort themselves that the relationship had cracks. Yet although they looked, no one ever found anything.
That was us.
*What happened to us, Frank?*
This happened. Virus X-93. We gave our lives to manipulate nature, and it came back to haunt us. Trapped away in an underground laboratory in Alaska, I thought I was at the forefront of science. In reality, the best I could have hoped for was a payoff that would buy a holiday home in Florida … that is what happened to us. Our infected colleagues outside are what happened to us.
"Done," Jeffrey said, snapping me out of my gloomy thoughts. "God knows what's gone on up there, but there's been no message. It could be worse than down here."
I gulped. "Well, I guess we just have to find out. We should use the vent to get right over the elevators. Get as close as we can before they can get to us."
Feeling more like a team now the elevators were back on, I gave Karen a boost back into the air vent. I felt more nervous now, possibly because there might have been a chance of an escape. I followed Karen up and was surprised to see a cockroach scuttle beside my head up there. Strange, for the laboratory was considered a sterile environment.
Below the infected were agitated, growing frustrated that they could find no other live victims.
Once over the grate near the elevator, Karen turned her head back and whispered, "Okay. Here goes nothing—"
*—An infected stumbled down the corridor, chuckling to himself—*
We waited until his footsteps faded, then a deathly white Karen craned her neck back once more. "I'm going down."
"Good luck," I mouthed.
Unhinging the grate, she disappeared, and I shuffled along the air vent, adrenaline pumping round my body. It was do or die time, and I dropped down into an empty corridor. Karen was already standing at the elevator switch, tapping the button like she was late for an important meeting.
The very action set of a chain of events; the first being the low grumbling noise of the elevator moving, which seemed to spread out to every crevice on level 5. It was right out of a horror movie—for even though I couldn't see them—I could picture the infected suddenly snapping their heads to one side, growling at the mechanical whirring.
"Come on!" I hissed to Jeffrey, who was still in the vent. Being a larger man he was having a much harder time of squeezing down the gap.
With the art of deception well and truly finished, the first infected appeared at the end of the corridor, crashing against the wall like a drunk. Gnashing, snarling, then sometimes screaming in pain, the once young scientist began sprinting towards us.
With a cling the elevator doors opened.
I had half forgotten that the rest of the military base might have been compromised, so I was nearly frozen by the sight of a dead soldier slumped at the back of the elevator. It was only Karen screaming and dragging me inside the elevator that I made it—otherwise I would have just stood there like a dummy, observing the dead soldier.
Karen smashed her hand against the buttons, pressing levels 4,3,2 all at once. An accident we would have to worry about later. Meanwhile, we were busy urging Jeffrey on, who was still only halfway down the air vent when the doors began to shut.
I think he must have heard the closing doors because he let out a terrified squeal and shouted, "Wait!"
Finally, he dropped down, but the moment he touched the floor, he knew it was too late. We all knew it was too late—and we were not going to wait for him.
Now, before anyone reading this begins to accuse Karen or myself, you should know that in a situation like this, the body reverts to a basic survival instinct. Yes, in the movies, they dash out of the elevator and save their friend (lover), but in reality, life is not like that. Stepping outside that elevator would have been the equivalent of stepping in front of a train. Unless you wish to end your life, your brain/body will not let you do so.
It's not that you don't want to—it's that you can't.
And that is why Karen stood there with her hand over her mouth, unable to move. She would never see Jeffrey's last look because she let out a moan and averted her eyes. But I would—I would see his face slump, not because he was about to be eaten alive, but out of sheer heartbreak that his lover of the last few years would leave him to die. I saw a man who truly understood the meaning of the word alone. A man who fully understood that the true monsters in the laboratory were not the infected, but us, humans. They were our creations and ultimately the act of playing God had transformed us into the devil.
We heard—yet did not see the young scientist collide with Jeffrey. The only way I can describe it is like that of a distracted quarterback who suddenly sees his sweetheart in the crowd and waits a fraction too long to throw the ball. All we heard was the sickening crunch of a body against a body, and the tearing of flesh as the infected bit into his throat.
#x200B; |
*A fence with a metal gate is shown, an older looking man approaches it.*
*The man opens the gate and reveals a large cow pasture, there's about fifty cows walking on the pasture.*
*The cows themselves look to be very well taken care off, some of them are eating fresh grass, while the others are drinking water from the water troughs.*
*While most of the cows seem to be carefree and perfectly healthy, one of the cows is standing far away from them and looks extremely sick, it is far skinnier than the rest of the group, a swarm of flies is hovering over it's head.*
*The man approaches the ill cow, it seems to look even worse up-close, the poor animal looks like it's lucky to even be alive, the sickly cow doesn't even seem to notice the man as it stares at the fence, it's eyes are foggy and white.*
*Sorrow appears on the man's wrinkly face, he takes a look at the nearest water trough, the water inside seems to be tainted, the liquid's color seems to be pale red.*
*The man immediately drains the water trough, then he hastily cleans it and fills it up with fresh water.*
*The man takes out a phone out of his pocket and makes a call.*
Man: It's an emergency, I need you here right now, Jack!
*He quickly ends the call and waits.*
*Not even five minutes pass, a muscular man wearing a cowboy hat and black rubber boots joins the old man.*
Jack: Hey there, Abe! What's the problem?
Abe: Well, take a look for yourself!
*Abe points at the sickly cow.*
*Jack takes a look at the unfortunate cow.*
Jack: Jesus! What the hell happened here?
Abe: I have no idea, first time I've ever seen anything like this. Bessy was as healthy as ever yesterday, now look at her! She's barely hanging on.*
*Abe takes a deep breath.*
Abe: She won't last more than a day. Please, just end her suffering.*
*Jack pats Abe's shoulder.*
Jack: Go take a rest, I'll take care of Bessy, she'll pass peacefully, I promise.
Abe: I appreciate it.
*Abe hands the gate key to Jack.*
Jack: I'll return the key to you after I finish up here, it won't take too long.
*Abe leaves the pasture.*
*It seems like a couple of hours have passed, Abe is sitting in a rocking chair and holding a glass of whisky.*
*The doorbell rings.*
*Abe quickly leaves his drink on the nearby table and rushes to open the front door.*
*He opens the door and sees Jack.*
Jack: I've taken care of old Bessy, I'm sorry it had to come to this.
Abe: Thank you, old friend. I've just opened a good bottle of scotch, why don't you join me?
Jack: Can't say no to that!
*Jack enters Abe's home.*
*Abe leads Jack to his small living room, Abe pours Jack a glass of expensive looking scotch whisky.*
*The friends seem to enjoy each other's company, they chat about various topics and seem to enjoy the whisky.*
*Hours pass, Jack looks at the silver watch on his wrist.*
Jack: It's already so damn late, time flies when you're having fun! Unfortunately, I can't stay any longer, have to fix the old tractor, can't really do that without getting some shut-eye.
Abe: That's a shame.
*The two friends sit up and approach the front door.*
*As soon as Abe opens the door, the sound of cattle in distress is heard, the cows are mooing loudly.*
Abe: Seems like luck is still not on my side.
*Abe goes to the living room and grabs a hunting rifle, he quickly hurries back.*
Abe: I'll bring this old thing, just in case!
Jack: Sounds good, I'll watch your back.
*The two friends quickly walk towards the pasture gate, the mooing is getting louder and more frantic.*
*Abe unlocks the gate, the two friends hastily open the gate and enter the pasture.*
*As soon as they look in the direction of the frightened cows, they are met with a dreadful sight.*
*A skinny, dark red intruder is standing beside the water trough and cutting it's wrists deeply with it's long sharp nails, even though the creature looks to be 1.8 feet tall, the creature's arms are lanky and incredibly long, if fully extended they seem to be able to touch the ground. The creature's head is humanlike, but it doesn't have even one hair on it, even the eyebrows are missing.*
*It's wrists bleed heavily, dark red blood drips into the water and slowly gives the water a reddish hue.*
*Most of the cows continue running in circles and mooing frantically, but five of them start drinking the contaminated water.*
*The two friends stare in disbelief as the cows rapidly ingest the bloody water.*
*As soon as the cows stop drinking the water, their eyes become pearly white, their pupils seemingly disappear.*
*The creature stops cutting itself and looks at the five cows, the animals obediently look at the creature, seemingly hypnotized.*
*Abe grabs the hunting rifle and skillfully aims it at the disturbing intruder, he shoots one bullet and hits the creature straight in the head.*
*The bullet passes through the creature's forehead as blood gushes out of the open wound, the five cows scramble to lick the spilled blood.*
*Surprisingly, the creature easily shrugs off the damage, it doesn't even react to the wound.*
*Seemingly amused, the creature looks at Abe while it's wound rapidly heals, not even ten seconds pass and the wound completely disappears.*
*The creature smiles while looking at Abe, it's smile is unnaturally wide, it is then that I notice a disturbing feature of the mysterious intruder, it has no teeth.*
*The creature extends it's eerily long arm and points at Abe and Jack.*
*The five cows instantly start running towards the two friends.*
*Abe and Jack exit the pasture in a hurry, Abe tries to lock the gate while his hands tremble uncontrollably.*
*Unfortunately, he doesn't lock it in time as the five sick cows stampede through the gate.*
*The five cows mercilessly trample on Abe and Jack, screams of agony are heard as the cows easily crush the bodies of both men.*
*The creature approaches the mangled bodies of the men, their heads have already turned into a bloody mush under the weight of the frenzied cows.*
*The creature looks at the crushed corpses of the men and smiles once again, it's toothless grin remains as it starts eating the soft, crushed remains of the men.*
*TAPE ENDS*
*I stare at the screen in shock.*
*This time, instead of the usual warning, a different disclaimer appears.*
*"YOU'VE MADE IT TO THE HALFWAY POINT, A TWENTY MINUTE BREAK IS ALLOWED, CONTINUE WATCHING AS SOON AS THE TWENTY MINUTES PASS!"*
*I want to use the surprising twenty minute break in all it's glory, so I'll end this part here.* |
The jumbled, discordant mess of the day was alike every day before it and filled me with a well-known pain as the dim lights of cars flickered past our own.
I had given up trying to convince my mother to let me stay home and study, I wasn't in the mood to argue, and the dizzying tilted ache of my brain agreed. The world was technicolor, yet painfully dark, an unwelcome yet unavoidable experience.
"This is why I tell you to sleep, " my mother trilled from the front, her excited voice a drill to my skull. "I can see your head lolling around, that difficult to stay awake, huh?" She giggled.
My mother, for all her accolades, had the empathy of a competitive fourth standard child.
I slumped further down into the seat, trying to avoid my mother's sparkling chartreuse eyes. "I don't want to s--" I began, then stopped as I felt the powerful urge to grab my brain out of my skull and twist it. It was a fairly normal feeling.
The lift to the theatre was a painfully bright blur. I watched as three men walked in, only to promptly traipse out, holding long, brown chairs and chuckling. "Aiyyo, did you see that girl?" one of them said in Tamil
"You'll stay focused nilla," my mother whispered as the men faded into the distance. "You'll not be a paltry crackpot."
The odds of me becoming a paltry crackpot were fairly slim. This trip was a breach of my daily routine, but it certainly wouldn't disrupt my sanity.
And stay focused on what?
The theatre was comfortingly dark, the seats cozy and the air conditioner harmonious with the smell of Vicks. My brain began to soothe itself. That headache hadn't been too bad, barely a prick.
I swum in the soupy semiconsciousness, my brain too dim to consider the consequences of sleeping at the wrong time, sleeping in public. Everything was fine now and would remain the same for as long as...as long as...
The screen before me fizzled, the words Troll (1986) flickering on the screen before the wires were expelled, turning the room brighter. I closed my eyes, yet the light remained, white and powerful, reddening my eyelids, sending pain shooting through my skull.
Potre will get you
I felt an uncharacteristic wave of relief. It was over, the movie had begun, that was just a nightmare formed from the depths of my dizzy brain...
Potre will get you
The words shared the same intonation.
"Mama," I spoke, turning to the haze beside me, "mama, what's a potre?"
The haze cleared.
The seat beside me didn't contain my mother, it contained a short, plump little girl, red hairband so far down her head it reminded me of a necklace.
She turned to me and screamed.
Then, and only then did the screen before us buzz.
"My... My... "
The words were tinny, wavering in an inconsistent and slow crescendo, until they cleared up to the frequency of a school speaker.
"If anyone on this stage has found a young girl, about nineish, named Nilla Aadhavan, please bring her to the stage immediately."
The voice was chillingly formal, its sharply British accent sending a spiral of dread through my heart.
I turned and the girl beside me was already far away, scampering up the stairs until she crawled out the back door and I wished to follow her. The place was full of people but that didn't change the fact that someone in the crowd was looking for me, and I didn't want to find them.
I stood shakily and took the girl's route, whipping behind taller, bigger bodies (a notoriously difficult act, considering my height) and found myself outside, the door closing satisfyingly behind me as screams began to erupt from within the hall.
The girl was there, leaning beside the door, and my mother was beside her, holding her shoulders as she shivered against my mother's stomach.
"I don't want to die Mrs Lennox, I don't want to die."
My mother must've told the girl her name.
"Nilla," she turned to me. "We've got to go. I'm sorry, girl."
She thrust the girl away and, with hurried footsteps, we made it to the car park and then back home, my head even more of a colorful soup than before.
All I knew were three things:
My name was Nilla Aadhavan, I was nine and three quarter years old, and my presumption about movie night being normal was utterly ridiculous to say the absolute least. |
Another day at St. Michael’s passed in a haze, with each minute stretching into eternity as the sun's golden fingers crept toward the horizon. Evening was fast approaching, and with it came the somber call of the bells that beckoned the faithful to gather at St. Michael's once more. The setting sun bathed the chapel in a warm, golden glow.
Acting as an altar boy for the day, it was my solemn duty to assist Father Matthias during the evening mass. Donning the ceremonial robe and lighting the candles, I found solace in the rituals and routines that accompanied the service. With each step, I moved with purpose, a silent observer in the grand theater of worship.
The chapel itself was a place of contradictions—a sanctuary of both solace and unease. While the intricate stained glass windows bathed the pews in a mosaic of colors, they also cast a web of distorted shadows, like ethereal fingers reaching out to grasp the souls of the congregation.
But the true source of my discomfort lay elsewhere. It was the statue of St. Agnes that loomed beside the altar—a lifelike figure carved from stone with eyes that seemed to follow me wherever I moved. It was as if the saint herself bore witness to my every thought and action, her cold gaze a constant reminder of something unseen but deeply foreboding.
As the church service continued, I performed my duties diligently, assisting Father Matt in various tasks. The specifics of the rituals and prayers are a blur in my memory, overshadowed by the growing unease I felt at the time in the presence of St. Agnes. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, scrutinized, and judged by those unyielding stone eyes.
I began to question my own sanity as I swore that, from the corner of my eye, I saw that St. Agnes had her head turned to face me. It was as if the statue had come to life, but whenever I looked directly at her, she remained facing the congregation, almost as if she snapped back into place just as I turned to look.
The tension reached its breaking point when Father Matt led the congregation in prayer, and we all bowed our heads. I closed my eyes as well, joining in with the rest of the faithful. Yet, it was during this moment of collective devotion that I felt the stare of St. Agnes more intensely than ever before. In my mind's eye, I pictured her turned toward me, her gaze unrelenting and piercing.
Unable to withstand the pressure any longer, I reluctantly opened my eyes. St. Agnes remained facing the pews, just as she always did. A wave of relief washed over me as I continued to stare at her while the prayer went on.
As I continued to stare, I felt an ominous presence looming over me. Slowly and silently, the head of St. Agnes began to turn, until her gaze was upon me. I couldn't tear my gaze away from the statue as her head completed its eerie rotation to face me fully, not until its cold, lifeless stone eyes bore into my soul. My heart began to race, and I slammed my eyes shut in terror.
In a state of complete horror and fear, I clung to my faith, hoping for the prayer's swift conclusion. When it was finally over and the congregation began to stir, I hesitated to open my eyes again. But when I finally mustered the courage to do so, I found St. Agnes had returned to her original position, her unchanging visage once more directed at the congregation. The unsettling experience left me shaken and filled with a growing sense of dread, deepening the mystery surrounding this eerie statue. Now, it was time for confession.
I joined the line of the faithful, each step bringing me closer to the confessional booth. The sensation of being watched, particularly by the unrelenting stare of the statue of St. Agnes, grew more intense with every moment. It was as though the very walls of the chapel were closing in, and the eyes of the saint bore into my very soul.
By the time I stood next up in line, the feeling was nearly unbearable. My heart raced, my palms grew clammy, and a lump formed in my throat. I rushed inside the confessional booth, the heavy wooden door closing behind me with a mournful creak. I was now alone, encased in the dimly lit chamber, with only the screen that separated me from the priest.
Sitting in the confessional, I felt the weight of the sins I was about to confess press down upon me. The shadows danced around me, and the ominous presence of St. Agnes's statue seemed to permeate even into this sacred space. It was as if the chapel itself held its breath, awaiting my admission of guilt.
Beginning my confession, I waited for Father Matt to formally address me. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned," I began hesitantly.
"Go on, my child," Father Matt encouraged.
"I... I overheard the nuns talking," I admitted. "About my mother and what happened to her."
Father Matt's voice remained gentle as he replied, "It's not right to eavesdrop on others, Andy. We should respect their privacy and their conversations."
"I know, Father," I replied, my guilt heavy. "But I needed to know more about my mother's time here."
Father Matt sighed softly before speaking again, "We must remember that there are certain things that should remain in the past, my son."
I nodded, acknowledging his wisdom. But there was something else I needed to confess, something that gnawed at me like a persistent itch.
"Father," I began hesitantly, "I also heard them talking about... the basement. About my mother going down there."
Father Matt's tone grew stern, and a hint of concern entered his voice. "Andy, you must never inquire about the basement. It's an off-limits topic, and you must promise me that you won't delve into it any further."
I gulped, realizing I had crossed a line I shouldn't have. "I promise, Father. I won't ask about the basement again."
With my confession complete, Father Matt offered me absolution, and I left the confessional booth, but I couldn't help but feel a heavy weight of unease pressing upon me. Father Matthias's words echoed in my mind, urging me to let go of my curiosity about the basement, something I’m not sure I could do.
As I walked away, I found myself staring at my shoes, lost in thought.Then, a chilling memory surged to the forefront of my mind—the shadow I had seen in the courtyard the day Sarah pushed me. It was a grotesque and nightmarish sight, something that should never exist in the realm of the living. The shadow appeared human, yet its proportions were impossibly distorted. Its long arms seemed to stretch so far down that its hands had to be scraping the ground, although I couldn’t tell from where I was standing. The mere recollection of that horrendous monstrosity was enough to make me shudder in fear.
Lost in these disturbing thoughts, I began to notice something odd about the chapel. My gaze fell upon a large crack in the wooden floor, one that hadn't been there before. I only noticed because I had to take an exaggerated step so I wouldn’t trip over it. It snaked across the aisle, a sinister rift in the very foundation of St. Michael's.
But that wasn't all. As I looked around, I realized that the chapel had transformed. The pews were now in a state of decay, their wood rotten and splintered. The windows were shattered, casting eerie beams of moonlight into the once-sacred space. The sky outside was pitch black, devoid of stars or any semblance of normalcy, aside from a full moon, slightly obscured by the crumpled frames of the glass panes.
The pit of my stomach plummeted as I turned my attention to the statues that lined the chapel, my gaze lingering on St. Agnes. The other statues, those of saints and angels, lay in ruins, their forms crumpled and broken, but St. Agnes remained untouched, her cold stare now piercing me harder than ever before.Panic welled up within me, and I began to notice something even more disturbing—the absence of any other souls in the chapel. The congregation had vanished, and I stood alone amidst the desolation.
Fear clawed at my chest, and I stumbled backward, my breaths coming in quick, shallow gasps. It was as though I had stepped into a nightmare, a distorted and twisted version of the familiar chapel I had known. St. Michael's had become a haunting and surreal realm, and I was trapped within its nightmarish grip, with no escape in sight.
My heart pounded in my chest as I remembered Father Matthias's words about what to do if things changed after confession. Rule number 4: “If you ever enter the booth and then come out, and things seem... different, close your eyes and enter the booth again. Say nothing until you hear my voice,” Father Matt had said. Heeding his words with a sense of urgency, I turned my gaze back to the confessional booth, my intention to close my eyes and seek refuge there.
But before I could make a move, a chilling noise erupted from behind me—a discordant, otherworldly chattering, like that of a demonic grasshopper. It sent a jolt of terror down my spine, freezing me in my tracks. The sound was as repulsive and jagged as nails on a chalkboard, each demonic chitter causing me to flinch instinctively.
Slowly, I turned toward the source of the ominous sound, my breath caught in my throat. There, in the darkest corner of the chapel, I saw them—the same faint, glowing orbs I had glimpsed through the window on that fateful day. The eyes in the darkness. They hovered in the air, high above, like malevolent stars in the night. It was only now that my brain made the connection between the shadow in the window and the eyes in the dark that my mother and I had seen before they took her away.
Was it the same set of eyes? At that moment, I was convinced they were the same eyes that drove me and my mother apart. The same eyes that had plagued my nightmares ever since I entered this place. The same eyes that had conditioned me to avoid looking into the dark spots of rooms in fear that the eyes would arise out of the shadows to stare back at me.
And then, from the shadows, they came—ten long, jagged fingers, impossibly black against the abyss, emerging with slow, deliberate movements. These unnatural appendages were attached to arms that seemed to stretch on forever, reaching out for me with an unnatural and sinister intent. With each slight movement of the creature’s fingers, I could hear audible cracks and chirps, as if the chattering sound I could hear was this thing's bones and joints cracking and popping as it completes each grotesque movement.
Terror gripped me, paralyzing my every muscle. My mind raced for a way to escape this nightmare, but it was as if the very air had thickened, holding me captive. The chattering grew louder, more maddening, as the monstrous appendages inched closer. The spider-like fingers twitched and clawed at the empty space between us as a sense of impending doom filled my body.
I knew I had to move, to do something, but my body refused to obey. The chapel had transformed into a grotesque theater of horror, and I was trapped in the spotlight, awaiting an unspeakable fate at the hands of this otherworldly presence.
My survival instincts kicked in just as those bony hands closed in on me. With a surge of adrenaline, I forced my body to move, breaking into a desperate run. Panic fueled my every move as I began racing away from the looming nightmare.
But as I fled, my foot caught on the jagged crack in the floor. I tumbled forward, landing on my hands and knees, pain shooting through me as I struggled to regain my footing. That was all the time the monstrosity needed. Its bony hand clamped onto my ankle, while the other seized my forearm, and it began to drag me mercilessly toward the dark, foreboding corner of the chapel.
I screamed and kicked with all my might, desperately trying to free myself from the creature's sinister grip. My heart pounded in my chest as I fought for my life, each moment of resistance filled with terror and agony. With one final, desperate effort, I managed to pry myself free, leaving me gasping for breath and drenched in cold sweat.
With newfound determination, I sprinted toward the confessional booth. Just as I reached the door, I noticed a movement in the corner of my vision. My gaze darted toward St. Agnes, and what I saw shook me to my core.
The saint was no longer in her place beside the crumpled statues. Instead, she had moved past the altar, her stone form seemingly frozen in mid-stride, as if she were walking toward me. And what was more unsettling was that she stopped moving the instant I looked at her.
Fear gnawed at my insides as I flung open the door to the confessional booth and threw myself inside. I turned to secure the door, my breath ragged and my heart pounding. But before I closed it, I couldn't resist stealing one last glance at the dark corner.
The eyes were still there, those lifeless spots of light that had haunted my nightmares. The hands had moved closer, now just feet away from the confessional. Their impossibly long arms had stretched all the way from the inky darkness, and the realization of how close I had come to a gruesome fate sent a shudder through me. I slammed the door to the booth shut, hoping it would be enough to keep those demonic hands out.
My heart raced as I huddled inside the confessional booth, my mind swirling with fear. I couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that the shadow in the corner or the statue of St. Agnes might still come for me. I was trapped within St. Michael's, a sanctuary that had transformed into a realm of unspeakable horrors. Every creak and shuffle of the chapel seemed like an impending doom.
Then, a shadow began to form in front of the confessional door, and I heard the unmistakable crackling and popping of joints moving. My pulse quickened, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead. The creature was drawing closer, its presence undeniable.
In a desperate bid to protect myself, I recalled Father Matthias's words—close your eyes and enter the booth again, say nothing until you hear my voice. With trembling hands, I squeezed my eyes shut, blocking out the horror that lurked just beyond the door. Slowly, as if in response to my obedience, the unsettling sounds of the creature began to fade, replaced by an eerie silence.
Time passed in a torturous crawl until finally, I heard Father Matthias's soothing voice. "Is there anything else, Andy? You've been quiet for some time now."
I swallowed my fear with an audible gulp as I asked the only question that mattered, “Father..” my voice trembling, "Is it safe to go outside?"
It seems Father Matthias understood the weight of my unspoken terror, since he assured me, "Everything is okay now, my child. You have my permission to skip your final class of the day and retreat to your room if it would make you feel better. You’re safe now."
His words were a lifeline, a promise of safety and sanctuary. With a shaky breath, I felt a small measure of relief, even if I couldn’t be sure that his promise of safety was guaranteed. I would take refuge in my room, a small haven away from the horrors that lurked within St. Michael's, and I hoped that somehow, I could find answers to the mysteries that now consumed my every thought.
I had retreated to my room after the harrowing encounter in the chapel, seeking refuge in the familiar confines of my small haven. I lay on my bed, my mind replaying the sequence of events over and over, as if trying to make sense of the nightmarish reality I had faced.
It wasn't long before Michael, my newfound friend in this strange and foreboding place, walked into the room. He greeted me with a friendly smile but quickly noticed the deep unease that lingered in my eyes.
"Hey, Andy," Michael said, his voice filled with concern. "You seem shaken up. What happened?"
I hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to put my terrifying encounter into words. But I knew I couldn't keep it to myself. Slowly, I recounted the events that had unfolded in the chapel, from the strange transformation of the surroundings to the nightmarish creature that had reached for me with its impossibly long arms and glowing eyes.
Michael listened intently, his expression growing more serious with each detail I shared. When I finished, he let out a long sigh and spoke with a mixture of shock and relief.
"Andy, you're lucky to be alive," he said, his voice tinged with genuine concern. "I've been here for a couple years now, and I've never seen anything like that. But I'm even more surprised to hear about that shadowy monster thing you described, the one with the eyes and the long arms. I've never heard of it revealing itself like that or reaching for someone like it did to you.."
My heart sank at Michael's words. If he, a resident of St. Michael's for so long, had never had a run in with that creature the way I had, and it raised unsettling questions about why it had singled me out. What did it want from me, and what secrets did this place hold that had brought such a perplexing presence into my life?
As I pondered these questions, Michael and I exchanged a knowing glance, both aware that we had stumbled upon something far darker and more mysterious than we could have ever imagined within the walls of St. Michael's. I could only cower in fear of what may come to pass.
The night seemed endless as I tossed and turned in my bed, haunted by the nightmarish sights of the last few days. The memories played out like a relentless nightmare in my mind, each unsettling encounter etching itself deeper into my consciousness. But eventually, exhaustion overcame my restless thoughts, and I began to drift into a restless slumber.
I slipped into dreams, my mind turned to my mother and her own encounter with the mysterious "eyes in the darkness." Her memory brought me a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that I was not alone in facing the enigma that shrouded St. Michael's.
As the night wore on, and the church was cloaked in an eerie silence, I awoke in my bed, haunted by the events of the day and the secrets that seemed to pulse within the very walls of St. Michael's. The moonlight filtered through the small window, casting elongated shadows that danced on the walls of our shared room.
Beside me, Michael lay sound asleep, his rhythmic breathing the only sign of life in the otherwise still room. But just as I was starting to drift back into a fitful slumber, I heard it—the unmistakable sound of someone fumbling with the doorknob of our locked bedroom door.
My heart leaped into my throat as I shot up in bed, my eyes wide with fear. The doorknob rattled violently, and the door shook under the pressure of someone—or something—trying to force their way inside. Panic surged through me as I clutched my blanket tightly, seeking refuge behind its thin shield.
Michael awoke in the midst of the commotion, his eyes filled with fear but his voice steady, "It's going to be okay, Andy," he whispered, his tone comforting. "We just need to pray."Nodding vigorously, I joined Michael in reciting the prayers we had learned, our voices trembling but growing stronger with each word.
The door continued to shake, as if an unseen force sought to break through. We recited the Lord's Prayer, the Hail Mary, and other supplications, our voices growing louder as we sought protection and solace in our faith.
As we continued to pray, the rattling of the door grew more violent, and the air in the room seemed charged with an otherworldly presence. It was as if the very essence of the church itself had come to life, and its malevolent gaze was fixed upon us.
But we did not waver. We held fast to our prayers, seeking refuge in the divine. And then, as suddenly as it had begun, the violent shaking of the door ceased, leaving behind an eerie silence that hung heavily in the room.
We remained huddled together, our hearts pounding in our chests, listening intently for any signs of danger. But all we heard were the distant echoes of heavy footsteps slowly retreating down the hallway, fading into the night.
With the worst of the ordeal seemingly over, exhaustion washed over us, and the room felt less oppressive. Michael and I found solace in each other's presence, and eventually, as our fatigue overcame our fear, we drifted into a fitful sleep, our prayers still echoing softly in the corners of our dreams.
|
The last time anyone saw my sister was nearly a month ago. This is completely out of character for her because out of the two of us, I am the fuck up and she is the responsible one. However one day her idiot friends decided to drag her along to go camping on the other side of the state. Why they chose to go there as their destination, I haven't a clue. While the town offered an escape from the world, it didn't have much else going for it.
If you want to know what the town was like, the first thing I saw when I arrived was a child dragging a tin can with a leash as if it were a dog. The rest of the town was very much the same. Somewhere in the void between weird, surreal and worrying.
When my sister didn't call after a few days, everyone grew worried and did all we could think of to find her. We drove all the way over there to hang up flyers and knock on doors, but no one had seen her or her friends.
The police were no help. Every time they saw my car, they would pull me over to tell me that there was no reason for me to worry, or that she was most likely on a romantic getaway with her boyfriend and that I should just return home.
It took all the patience I had to play nice when they said this. If they knew her, they would know that disappearing like that was impossible. Something must have happened and I was determined to get to the bottom of it.
The last time I went out to that cursed and isolated town, I packed enough for an extended stay and checked into the hotel. I only stayed there once due to the poor condition of the room. I thought I was going to have to stay in my car and this was fine, I was willing to do it if that meant finding my sister.
It was nearly two in the afternoon when I felt just how hungry I was and decided to go into the local diner. There, I overheard someone talking about a BnB that had just opened up and even though it wasn't advertised online, it was ready to be rented out.
Figuring I might as well check it out, I asked about it and set off to find the owner so I could rent a room for my stay. On the way out of the diner I couldn't help but to notice that the flier I had set up in the window on my last visit a few days before was taken down.
The owners, a married couple in their early sixties, were happy to have someone stay at their beach house and after everything was in order they gave me the key code so I could get the key and enter the house.
The house had to have been a fifteen minute walk to the closest neighbor, but finding it wasn't hard. The building screamed old money and reminded me of a plantation. The surrounding yard was large, manicured to perfection and surrounded by a white fence. In the front yard there was a large tree with a tire swing.
Inside wasn't as nice as the outside. The lightbulbs looked ancient and gave off a sickly yellow glow to everything the light touched. As far as the electronics in the rest of the house went there was no television, or for that matter, an outlet to charge my phone.
I called the Keele’s to ask them about this and they told me that the house was considered an historical landmark, so no renovations could be done.
After settling in, I figured to take some time exploring the place during the day since I wasn't planning on being there unless I was sleeping. There was a library, a dumbwaiter and everything else one might expect in a place that grand.
The view out the bedroom window revealed a lake and a dock through the branches of a bunch of weeping willows. There wasn't a ripple in sight. If I was there for any other reason than finding my sister, I would have taken that opportunity to swim.
As I walked down the hallways, after unpacking my things, I thought I heard crying. I tried searching for the source of it, but whenever I was certain that it would be around the next corner, there was nothing.
At the time I just figured the noise was because the house was so old. Or that the noise was all in my head because of the stress of my sister missing, or because I didn't sleep well the night before.
Ignoring what I assumed I heard, I traveled back into town to ask people if they saw my sister or her friends as well as to hang up fliers. I must have walked a few miles by nightfall and figured that I deserved a nightcap so I went into the liquor store and bought myself a bottle of whiskey to drink when I reached the BnB.
I am not much of a drinker and have a low tolerance, a fact that I am proud of, but I wasn't too drunk to have imagined the ursine howl I heard after brushing my teeth before bed.
That howl... it stuck in my head for a while as I tried to figure out what could make a sound like that. Finally, with the whiskey's help, sleep overcame me.
I woke up feeling refreshed, but that feeling did not last long. As I got out of bed, I froze.
My suitcase had been moved.
Right before I went to sleep, I put the case in front of the closet door. I always did this when I slept in an unfamiliar place... it was a force of habit. This morning, the case was NEXT to the door, not in front of it!
Someone had been in my room as I slept!
I quickly threw the closet open, but there was nothing out of the ordinary that I could see. I did a cursory search of the room, and again, nothing seemed to be missing.
I had almost convinced myself that I must have been mistaken, that I had drunkenly forgot to put the case in front of the door, even though I distinctly remembered doing it, when I saw the folded paper sticking out of the pile of missing person flyers I had on the dresser.
My hand was shaking as I grabbed the note, unfolded it and read the single word written on it.
"LAKE"
That's it. Just the word "lake".
I fell onto the bed. My mind was racing with possibilities here. Did my sister drown in the lake? Did people cover it up? If so, WHY? None of it made any sense!
I grabbed a stack of fliers, snatched up the note and headed to town. I needed answers!
My first stop was the Police. When They saw me come in, they all seemed to tense up.
I explained about the break in, and they did not believe me. Until I handed them the note.
The officer seemed shocked... he looked like someone just punched him in the gut. He waved the sergeant over and handed him the note. The Sergeant also seemed stunned. They looked at each other in silence for a few seconds, then both turned and looked at me.
"I am sure this was a prank." the Sergeant said. "If I were you, i would leave town, head home and i am sure your sister will turn up.”
Furious, I yelled "Yeah? And what about the note?"
Looking dead in my eyes, the Sergeant crumpled the paper in his hand and said "What note?"
I was stunned. What the hell was going on here? I backed slowly away, and left the police station. I glanced back, and saw the officer and Sergeant had followed me outside, where they were staring at me as I walked down the street.
Right as I turned the corner, I saw the Sergeant, while still staring at me, pull out his cell phone and make a call. His eyes never wavered from me, not even for a second.
I was unnerved. I was starting to get a little scared. there was something going on here, and my sister seemed to have been caught up in it. As I thought about my sister, the feelings turned from fright to anger. She was still missing, and no podunk Barney Fife police force was going to stop me from finding out where she is!
I headed for the Diner, the last place my sister's credit card was used. Once again, I noticed the flyer I had taped up earlier was missing. I went right back to where I had put it the first time, and with the cook and waitress watching me, I taped Two flyers up, right next to each other. The cook shot the waitress a nervous glance, and went back to his griddle. I sat at an empty booth and waited.
The Waitress did everything she could to avoid coming over, but I just sat there smiling at her, watching everything she was doing. She kept darting glances at the cook, where he would shake his head almost imperceptibly. Finally, she had no other choice but to come and take my order.
"What would you like?" she asked. She seemed so nervous she was almost shaking.
"I would like two things…" I replied, smiling. "A coffee.... and..."
She stood there, her pencil above the notepad waiting for the rest of my order.
"And information on why everyone in this town is pretending not to have seen my sister, you included,"
The waitress's eyes grew wide.. she looked over at the cook who was shaking his head no, not even trying to be subtle about it anymore.
"please..." she almost whimpered... "You need to just..." and right then, the Officer from the Police Station walked in, pointed at me, and motioned for me to go outside.
"What a surprise…" I mumbled to the waitress as i stood up. I was a little taken aback when i saw tears in her eyes. I was not sure if they were tears of fright, compassion or relief, but she was obviously shaken to her core.
I followed the Officer outside, where he turned to me and said "You need to leave. Now. Not tomorrow, not later. Now."
"No,” I snapped back.
The officer got upset. "What do you mean no? I will arrest you for hassling these good people!"
"Then arrest me! Do it!" I yelled back. "It will be the first time I saw any cop in this town do anything he was supposed to do!"
The cop stared at me. He seemed to deflate a little bit. "listen... " he said quietly. "You need to go. That's all I am going to say. I ain't threatening you... I'm trying to protect you…" and having said that, he turned on his heel and left.
To say that I was confused is an understatement. I needed to regroup, I needed to try and get my head around this. I headed back to the BNB and my room, taking my food to go.
And that was when I started to get some answers....
I sat down to eat the food I had taken from the diner, when I noticed there was something written up in the napkin. “Look on the bottom.” It said.
I bumped the bottom of the bag as I did this, and felt the corner of a manila envelope sticking out from beneath. I surreptitiously pulled it out. “Don't open in public” was written on the top. The handwriting seemed to match that on the napkin. I opened the envelope on the bed and inside were just three short articles from the local newspaper.
**Body Found, Dam To be Drained – Wednesday, October 12**
>The Keele Dam, named after it's founder and local conservationist Jared Keele, will be drained to allow officials to search through the lake. On October 10th, Monday morning, a tourist was hiking when he came across the body of Deana Smith, who had previously been declared dead last August after she had been missing for a decade.
>The body's identity was confirmed through forensic testing, and evidence of foul play was found during autopsy. Local authorities have reopened the case of Deana Smith as a murder investigation, there are currently no leads. They intend to drain the lake starting at 12:00 pm on October 15 and ending at 7:00 pm on October 16.
>Authorities urge you to go be seen by your doctor if you have drank directly from the lake or swam in it with open wounds. We were unable to reach Jared Keele for comment, but sources say that he is devastated with the news and hopes for a speedy investigation.
**Old Island to Remain Uncovered, New BnB to Open – Wednesday, September 14**
>While local officials drained the Keele lake in search of bodies, an old nearly forgotten island was uncovered. An employee at our town library immediately started a petition to keep the island exposed for the pleasant view. During the hearing on September 8, many locals were able to express their concerns. A volunteer group was then formed to clear off the island and maintain it in order to appease citizens that believed the island a source of danger.
>Son of the recently deceased Jared Keele spoke of how his father wanted the island to remain covered, but agreed with the petitioner that the island improves the view. He plans to turn his father's place into a Bed and Breakfast by the spring, and feels the two could attract tourists. “His house had an excellent view of the lake, and now it will have an excellent view of the island,” he was quoted as saying.
**Night Lights on Keele Island – Wednesday, August 16**
>On August 12, there were multiple reports called into local authorities of suspicious flames moving about on the island at night. An officer was dispatched to the area and reported to have found no suspicious activity. After a brief investigation, it is believed to simply be one of those phenomenons that occur from time to time. Local businesses are excited to hear this, as the lights will help bring in tourists that enjoy viewing them. Mr. Keele has updated his listing on Airbnb to include a footnote about the phenomenon.
I looked up from the last article, it felt as though my veins were full of ice as I stared through the window at the island. August 12 was the last I had heard from my sister. First the note, then the envelope of articles. the way the town has been acting.. my answers laid on that island. I just knew it. Did these lights have something to do with her disappearance?
I had one more night left, I would wait till after dark then find a way to the island. I was a pretty decent swimmer, but the weather had turned a bit chilly recently. The article said something about a volunteer maintenance crew for the island, they must have a means of getting there. Perhaps a boat somewhere along the lake shore I could borrow for the night without anybody being the wiser.
It was about this time that somebody began pounding on my door. I crept to the door and peaked out, but didn't recognize them. They weren't the owners, and since they didn't have on a police uniform I could ignore them. “You've overstayed your welcome! Getch'er ass out here, or we'll help you find a reason to leave!” The larger of the two yelled.
How about no? I thought as I crept around and left out the back door. I had grabbed my belongings on the way out in case the rednecks decided to bust in and now I kept my eyes peeled for a good place to stash them.
Unfortunately there was no time. I heard the locals right behind me, and dropped my stuff in some bushes to distract them as I ran toward the lakeshore.
Luck didn’t seem on my side at first as I scanned the sands amid twilight, but then I saw the faint silhouette of a canoe. I immediately jumped in and paddled as I heard my pursuers shouting from the tall grass.
Before long their cries were muffled out by my paddle strokes and I was alone on the lake. The moon hung above like a glistening Pearl, it’s gleam causing the tiny island to glow. Were these the lights I’d read about? As I got closer I realized it was a variety of gemstones that poked out near the rocks, there were so many I was astounded that the townsfolk weren’t using these to make the town rich.
I knew as soon as I stepped foot on the island that something was off. The air felt cold and rigid, and no wind blew. There wasn’t even green grass. It was just a dark void in the night, with rocks jutting aimlessly toward the center.
Then I heard that howl, the same one that has plagued me since I arrived. It was right up ahead. It was loud and visceral, it made me think about leaving immediately. But I had to see if I could find my sister. I’ve made it this far.
I moved toward the noise, the stones blocking my view and making me feel like I was in a maze. It seemed to be coming from all directions. This howl was both terrifying and disturbing because it sounded like a creature in pain. Desperate for death to swallow it up.
Finally I reached a clearing and saw a large monolithic boulder with chains tied around it. The noises were coming from the other side.
As I drew closer, I realized the stone was made of pure silver, the largest I’d ever seen. And on the other side, I found the source of the growl, a beast straight from my night terrors. It was large and covered in dark fur, with fangs and claws the size of my head. I thought at first it was a werewolf but a closer look revealed gills and a fish hook tail. It was the strangest beastie I’d ever seen, and yet as I kept staring I realized that it was in pain and not a threat at all. Someone had captured it and left it here to die, I realized.
Then as the beast thrashed about I saw something familiar dangle around its neck. My sister’s locket, there was no mistaking it.
My mouth felt dry as I looked at the monster. Was this… thing, what was left of my sister?
I tried to reach for her but the creature only reacted in violence. She was angry, frustrated and confused by what was happening.
Then behind me I heard voices and immediately I hid. To my surprise I saw the bnb owners walking along arm in arm, cheerfully conversing as if there wasn’t a nine foot monster chained in front of them.
The husband was carrying a large wooden stake.
“Well, well. The offering is a good one this time…. Our boy Jared done good,” he mumbled as he used his weapon to poke at the monster playfully.
“Gonna eat good tonight,” she agreed. That name they mentioned sounded familiar but nothing was piecing together until I saw with my own eyes what they did.
As the moon reached its apex in the sky, the husband staked the wolf creature straight in the heart and I heard the mixture of my sister’s screams with the howl of the monster. It took all my strength to not stop them. The wife took out two goblets from her purse and they used them to pour blood from the wound into and then both drank greedily.
The older couple jerked and started to convulse, their bodies suddenly swollen and reverting to an earlier age. Before I knew what was happening, they looked even more youthful than I. And it was then I recognized their faces. The same ones I had seen in the article when referring to the Keele’s. But they were supposed to be long dead…
This monster, this ritual, was keeping them alive.
They laughed to themselves as they finished their bloody work and left my sister to bleed out.
My own blood boiled as I heard them talking about their next victim near the shore. Me.
“We need to find that boy who came to the cabin. You know these things run in packs. If we can turn him into his monster form and chain him up too we will have another century to ourselves,” the wife chuckled.
“Why should we do the work? The damn townsfolk have tried to betray us and send him away. I say we make those yokels do our dirty work. Or it will be their skin we grind up! Ha!”
They sailed away as I shook away my desperation and frustration and turned toward my sister.
They used you like cattle, and they’ll do the same to me, I realized fearfully.
I tried to recall the old legends of how someone could turn into a werewolf, a dream of revenge springing into my mind. Using my sister’s large claws, I cut myself straight across the face. Deep enough for the venom in her to deep into my blood.
As soon as I felt it, my body convulsed and I shook in pain. Except I knew I wasn’t going to be gaining any youth from this.
My goal would be to find the Keele’s and destroy them, make them suffer for what they’d done. I took the canoe back to the bnb and locked myself in as the transformation begins.
Unfortunately I think this means I will lose all sense of my sanity, of my humanity. I am fearful of when this moment comes, but also I know I will have to embrace it.
I must pray the locals can hunt me down and end this cruel life,
With both me and the Keele family dead, maybe this lake could finally be a proper tourist trap.
It’s a hopeful thought to hold on to as I slip away from sanity and join the animal kingdom. I leave all this in the journals here, to be found by their next visitor I suppose.
If you’re reading this, it likely means the Keele’s are still alive and I have failed.
Beware the lake. Beware the island and most of all beware of the howls.
For I can not control what I shall do next. |
We’ve all been to yard sales before, I used to love scoping out yard sales and trying to see what odd trinkets I could manage to find, and occasionally fix up old tech to either flip or use myself. I don’t think I can stomach doing that anymore though.
Last month I spied an old Xbox 360 on one of the tables, and I do mean old. It was one of the white models. Just looking at it gave me a rush of nostalgia so I asked the guy at the table how much it was. He was about my age, I almost would have considered him cute if not for the fact that he pulled a pinch out of a can of dip and stuck it in his mouth before answering my question. “Thirty bucks, haven’t touched it in years so it won’t be missed.”
I fished a few tens out of my wallet and asked, “Do you have any games for it?” He made an expression like he just remembered something and reached under the table, after a second it retracted with what looked like a large black computer part. “You’re gonna love this, it's a custom made external hard drive, this fucker can hold up to two terrabytes of data on it. Its got a bunch of games on there already but there should also be some still installed on the console itself, just don’t delete any of the games on there cause you’ll never get them back without my password. I’d give that to you as well with the hard drive but honestly I forgot it years ago.”
“Is the hard drive gonna cost me extra?”
He gave it a long hard look, checked me out for a second debating with himself whether he thought he could get away with asking me out or not, and eventually said. “Honestly I have no use for it, it was specifically made for the 360 so I wouldn’t really gain any benefit from keeping it. Let’s say ten, maybe twenty bucks cause it's good but really old.” I shrugged, pulled out another two tens and handed it over. I said, “Seems fair.” and started putting the console and hard drive in my tote bag, along with the two controllers that came with it.
When I got home I was honestly pretty excited to see the games on it, I always loved finding old forgotten gems. As the console booted up I heard the startup noise and got sent straight back to my childhood. After I reached the homescreen I only found it fitting to sign into my old account. It’d been years but thankfully I still remembered my password from when I was 9.
What I saw in front of me could only be described as… an atrocity. The bright pink and black avatar accompanied with the name “Fairygirl17” reminded me that I was a very stereotypical scene kid from a very young age, and to be completely honest some part of me never grew out of that.
After spending way too long changing my avatar and deciding on a new profile name I eventually made it back to the homescreen. I remembered to plug in the hard drive and set it up before opening up the game library. There was a treasure trove of games just waiting to be found. There were some of the greats like Halo, Call of Duty, even some of the classic Lego games, as well as some of the silly Xbox avatar games like Doritos Crash Course, Motocross Madness, and the Kelflings games.
I scrolled for who knows how long reliving every flash of nostalgia, feeling the warm chills crawl up my back as I saw games like Bioshock, Charlie Murder, Dead Space, Fable. Each game I saw I remembered when I played it with my older brother and sister, I recognized so much until eventually I started looking through the weirder stuff. Games that were obviously either made by one person from another country, broken english names and such. I looked even deeper and just found weird games that were probably just made as projects or quick cash grabs, they must have been at least a little fun because they were still installed. After probably hours of me inspecting each individual title out of curiosity I landed on one that really caught my interest. Pinman. The cover was just of a regular old pinman like you’d see on a street sign or a crosswalk.
I don’t know why it was so interesting to me, it just seemed so out of place. So obviously, I pressed A. I started the game and in front of me was a black silhouette man, as advertised he was a generic pinman. There was no tutorial, it didn’t tell me to do anything so I just started walking. The camera was in the third person, the world was pure white, yet the shadows were abnormally high quality. There were structures, but they appeared to be the same smooth white texture as the ground I walked on, there was a wide ramp to go up, and so I followed it.
As time went on the structures felt slightly more complex. Long bridges, an upward spiral, a building that could be somewhat compared to a parking garage, and yet through all I saw it was just sparse enough to make the world still feel so empty. I looked up but the skybox was more of the same. Eventually I started seeing other characters. None of them talked but it made the empty world feel that much more alive.
I wandered farther but the only sound I heard was the steps of my character trudging on. I thought I could hear wind but if I could it was extremely quiet. I kept walking on, the world felt somewhat peaceful, if not a little ominous. I didn’t know why I was enjoying it but I was captivated, and vaguely creeped out.
At one point I came across a particularly tall structure. For a moment I marveled at how well it looked for only being the same smooth white as everything else. This 3D world was very well made for how it was structured. I began to climb slowly. Minutes passed and yet still my attention was fully on the game, even more so when I inevitably reached the top.
In the middle of my path was a knife. Just an ordinary kitchen knife. Usually seeing something like that might startle someone, due to how the rest of the gameplay has been. However, I felt drawn to it. I walked over and pressed A. Now it was in my hand. I kept walking. I walked further and further as these structures connected to each other making one large elaborate amalgamation of concrete. As it will happen with all of us, I gave in to my intrusive thoughts.
I walked over to another character, and I pressed A.
The screen flashed a bright red, you could hear the stab and he was on the ground. I had killed him, and I felt awful about it. I felt horrified as I saw the puddle of blood under him, the blade of the knife had been stained red and no button I pushed would make me drop it. So in order to hide my guilt, I kept walking.
It felt as if the game knew what I had done, and it knew how I felt. Suddenly this world was more populated. Instead of a few there were slowly becoming more and more pinmen as I walked farther. They didn’t have faces but I could tell they were staring at me. They didn’t show any expression or emotion but I could feel that they hated me. Any sound or ambience that I thought I could hear before was gone. All that was left were the footsteps. I kept walking but I could still feel their nonexistent gazes. How can you look at someone so hatefully when you don't even have a face?
Eventually the pressure became so intense that I turned off the Xbox . I couldn’t handle any more of it, I went to the kitchen to get myself some water but my hands were shaking. Something about that felt so real. My heart was pounding. For a solid minute I couldn’t convince myself that I hadn’t actually killed someone. After what could barely be called a meal I decided that I needed some sleep. I couldn’t. I tossed and turned for hours feeling an immeasurable amount of stress and paranoia. I felt like I was going to be caught for what I had done. This game had placed a spell on me and it was strong. I felt scared, as if the crimes I had committed were so unforgivable that I could never show my face in public.
At around four in the morning I’d had enough. I marched back into the living room and turned the console on. I went to the game settings, and uninstalled it. As soon as it was finished I could feel that hold break, I felt calm. I was no longer shaking, my heartrate had calmed. I was fine.
I already knew that whatever that game had done to me will forever be stained in my mind, but going to sleep was more important at the moment. I dreamed about the game, this time it was me walking around instead of the pinman. I wandered much like how I did when I actually played. I once again felt very peaceful. I wandered for hours, eventually I came back to the knife. I left it behind.
I walked further until I encountered a character, I recognized him. Apparently he recognized me too. “Why did you do it?” He asked me calmly.
“I don’t know, I felt like I was supposed to.”
“You took a life because you were given a weapon. You were given no instructions, you just did.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did it.”
“I know you are, I’m sorry too.”
“Why?”
I knew why, I should have seen it coming from a mile away but dreams have a funny way of fogging your mind. Faster than I could comprehend I saw the knife, I heard the sound and the world in front of me flashed a bright red. I coughed blood and I fell over. I knew I deserved this but all I could think about was the blood pouring out of me.
I opened my eyes and lurched forward. I thought I felt phlegm and coughed but my sheets were spattered with red when I did so. I panicked as I put my hand in front of my mouth only to see dark red blood pooling onto it. I rushed to the bathroom and lifted my shirt to look for stab wounds in the mirror, I didn’t see anything until I looked at my own face.
I had a nosebleed. I was fine. Some of the blood must have gone into my mouth while I was asleep and affected my dream. Still, I felt a little shaken. I cleaned myself up and threw my sheets into the wash while the blood was still fresh, hopefully it’d wash out. I made myself a cup of coffee and decided that I should probably do something to calm myself down. In that one moment I don’t think I’d ever felt that much shock and fear in my life.
I went back to the Xbox to load up the game only to remember that I’d uninstalled it. I still think about it sometimes.I want to play it again, I want to do the right thing this time, but there’s no way I can get it back. I couldn’t find it again. I can’t find it on the internet either. There’s no real evidence that this game ever existed, but I want to play again. If you remember it or even find this game please, let me know.
|
I’m typing through cold sweat. On my phone. In Sam’s exam room. Lying on a leather table. I’m hyperventilating with a cold compress on my head. I’m so hot. And oh my god, my head. It's killing me. Never had a fucking headache like this before. I’m sweating like a pig, my hands are shaking lioke crazy. so excuse me if I type in unintelligible ways.
I must hurry. Sam might come back any time.
Alrught. So I went back to my desk. I had a hard time concentrating after the incident. The rest of the day went normal, more or less. But I couldn’t focus. I kept thinking “Travis” and “I made them all disappear” like what did the crazy man mean by that? Who else did he make disappear? And how did he know about Travis? Was he... perhaps... involved in Travis’ disappearance?
Travis disappeared, jumped out of window at work 5 years ago, was never seen again.
All we know is his case went cold after a year, and the police wrote him off as dead. And they refused to keep looking for him because “Travis Windwell is a grown adult man, he can go wherever he pleases; every adult that is of age has the right to ‘disappear’ as you call it”.
Not gonna lie, I’m bitter as hell that they refused to look for him.But I sort of just got used to it. I miss my brother every day. But part of me has kind of accepted that he’s gone and will never return – and all I have left of him is the memories. His straight black hair (like mine), his bright grey eyes and the dimples when he smiled. How could a 29-year-old man just disappear like that?
It was NEVER like Travis to just disappear without saying something. He would always call my mom to let her know his whereabouts, even for being a little bit late from work.I still try to go over the day he went missing. It was the 20th September 2018.
He was at work, in his office. Like always. I remember.... he called me that day. He said he had an ear infection and needed antibiotics. Wait. Antibiotics. Oh yeah. That was the last time I ever heard his voice – or any sign of life from my brother.Could it be that the antibiotics are WHY he disappeared? I mean. I told you about the crazy man in the ER yesterday.
I told you he took some striong antibiriotics and yes. Maybe it WAS a psychosis after all? Or is there more at play?It could be that the meds DID cause his craziness. And maybe... just maybe... no. No way. What was the name of the meds? The meds the weird man took. The meds Travis took. No. NO. wasn’t that the same ...? no. the fuck. It cannot be. They didn’t BOTH take the same pills and BOTH got a psychosis from it?Fine. Makes sense. Biut then again how did the man know about Travis? How are they in connection with each other?
Strangely, nothing happened for the last 3 days. The crazy man didn’t show up again. It all went normal again until about an hour ago.
The crazy man came and entered the ER door again today. This time he looked very angry. And there was no sign of a med reaction of any kind.He stared at me. Just stood and staredd. He stared. For a whole minute . or loinger. I don’t know. But I could tell sth was up this time and it was NOT the medicine.
“Melissa.”
I squinted my eyebrows in confusion buit didn’t say anything. He continued. “Melissa... “
I raised my brows now. What the hell did he want from me?
I noticed one more thing. His skin was not yellow anymore. It was yellow yesterday but now it was not.
He aggressively walked towards my desk. Fast. He walked weird. In a way that he was dead, or like a nu,b walking zombie. He walked as if he were dead inside, his body just moved while he wiggled a little. Like you would expect a slightly drunk person or a zombie to look when they walk fast.
He walked extremely fast and then suddenly stopped abruptly in front of my desk.
One redditor advised me to use salt (and lots of it). since sprinkling the salt in front of my desk in a cirlcce wasn’t an option (as the cleaner would get mad at me), I put several open containers at the front of my desk in a row. As a protection wall. It seemed to work. (Thank you, stranger, for the advice.)
He then stood there, still staring in the same manner, his face had not budged. He stood and wiggled to the side a little, like he was drunk.He opened his mouth to say sth but then stopped and closed it again. He stayed like that for a few secs. Then he slowly opened his mouth again, and said (in a deep, evil, aggressive voice): “I know where Travis is. I knew all along. For the last 5 years I have known. Heh heh heh heh. I’ve got him. I got your brothaaaaaaaa. Heh”Knowing that the salt stopped him from coming closer to me, I figured I might as well just ask him. “What do you want? Who are you?”
He continued staring at me blankly and wiggling like a drunk. “I want revenge.”
“Why? For what?”
“You and your colleague are at fault. YOU are at fault. My dad died 5 years ago. He never woke up. it was YOUR mistake.”
“no.” My face went white. I couldn’t help but stare at him in disbelief. That incident. this old man came in after a car accident and sadly couldn’t be saved. ... Jason and Sam had to put him in an artificial coma and then turn the machines off. As he couldn’t be saved. I was the receptionist – of course I had to make him wait a couple secs because we weren’t sure what was wrong and he had nobody with him exceot... no. wait. NO. yea. The middle aged man who accompanied the old guy. It was.. no. Yes. a yellow blond man in a suit. The suit was burgundy colored. So the evil weird man was the son!
I thought I knew what the deal was now. He wanted to take revenge on US for letting his dad die. -and he blames Us for it.
I noticed another thing. The man’s breath stank more of sulfur than it did yesterday. Like OOF did it stink. I nearly vomited into my mouth. And my eyes watered. It really stung. The stench stung in my eyes, my nose and throat. And my stomach too I think.Another thing I noticed: Speaking of Jason.. where is he?! He nverr missed a day of work, he even comes into work when he had a deadly flu or the plague. He is a typical healthcare worjker – extremely stubborn when it comes to his own health and never wanting to admit that he’s sick. But today I haven\*’t seen him yet. I’m not sure if that has sth to do with the weird black shit he wiped away two days ago – but that was the last time I saw him.
But boy do I feel sick....... I think I need to vomit.Whatever, back to topic. I had a flashback of the incident. I was scared to death. The man continued. “I know what you did. YOU made him wait on purpose although you KNBEW he was an emergency. You clearly didn’t care if my dad died. That’s why you made him wait. F You let anyone in before, except when old people need help. Old people are worthless. Once you hit 50 you’re nothing but a sack of old shit. That’s what it looks like.” He paused a few seco and then continued. "You killed my dad. My one and all. My only trusted person I had left. You took it all away from me. And now it is MY turn. Heh heh."
Before I could open my mouth and reply to that, he tried really hard to move towards me. Buit it didn’t work. it looked kinda funyy. Like trying to push his face through a glass window. But the salt seemed to be doun the trick.Suddenly he stopped wiggling, stood very firmly and started grinning. In an evil manner, like teachers used to grin when they caught a kid doing nonsense. Like “ha, I got you”. “I saw your nametag and then traced your ass back. You stopped working here 5 years ago, and then got hired again this summer. I know ALL about you.” His tone of voice now had a tone of sarcasm and mock in it too.“aww. What’s wrong babeh? You’re looking pretty pale. Heyh? Feels bad being caught! Heh heh heh. Now you’re gonna feel how I feel.” He let out a brief, slightly-aroused groan. “Quitting the job right after my father’s death? Heh heh. Aww. pussy boo. Looks like Miss Thick glasses couldn’t habdle the guilt?” He tilted his head and showed a fake-concerned expression, in a mocking way. He then reached into his suit pocket, slowly. "Ehhh. Now I’m gonna show you something that you Will Not be able to handle for sure." He pulled out a phone, poked around, and then turned the screen towards me.
I felt kinda silly being a 26 year old woman feeling intimated by a man laughing and staring and stinking at me. But I couldnnn helop it. But then he showed me a video on the phone - and then I had a reason.What I saw made me jump out of my chair and knock over all the salt containers kff tce table.I saw a basement. I saw the camera moving. No windows, it was pitch dark. The only light I saw wS a phone flashlight dim. Then the camera moved as if someone was walking and led to a corner. I saw a dirty extremely gross matteess lying on the ground.
And on the mattress I see the silhouette of a man. The camera moves closer to what appears to be a man. The camera points at him. I see that the man is tied up. In shackles. He’s bleeding and chained to the mattress. Struggling to breathe. In the background, I hear evil deep voice giggling (like the man standing before me, I recognized that voice). He said "I will chop them off. Heeeh heh heh. Choppy chop-chop, choppidy-chop. Funny heh?"" Then the man on the mattress screamed in terror. He tried to scream, that is. It sojnded like he screamed with his mouth closed, or he had sth stuffed in his mouth. The voice of the mattress man sojnunded weirdly familiar. Too familiar. A voice I haven’t heard in years. I hear the weird man shushing. Then a hand moved towards the prisoner's mouth and a cloth is pulled out. Then the prisoner screamed VERY loudly and violently. "YOU ARE SICK! No!! NO!! Let me GOOoO!!!! HEEELP! SOMEbody HELP!! MELISSA!!! MOM!!! DAD!! Heeeeeeeeee-" then the shushing is back. "Honey honey.! We don’t you to disappear UNDER THE EARTH now, do we?" The prosoner shook his head aggressively and then stopped screaming. Now the canera was on his fsce. It was dirty and full of filth, mud and his hair was all dirty and mushed. I had a hard time recognizing it as The face looked very squashed, there were dried tears all over it and It was all dirty and full of wounds and filth. But it looked too familiar . The voice. And the fsce. Very distinguished. I was starting to get a strong intuition. I wanted to puke.
Tgtje evil ma#n's voice started again "good boy. Yaaaaaaaa. Goooooooood boy. Mhmmmm. Now. You either sty down here for nother 5 years or you do as I say? Hmmmm? Will you sign now?" "Fuck youuuuu", said the (no. Wait. eXTREMELY familiar. And very distinguished. It can only be…. No.) man on the bed weakly and whiningly. Now it was clear. I knew who the man was. It could only be one person . I nearly screamed. But couldn’t. I was too scared to scream. The video ended there.Then the man pulled the phone away, grinned evilly, and put it back in his pocket. He nodded snd giggled and looked at me. No… then the man leaned towards me. And put his finger on my lips, still grinning evilly.I was too shocked to react. I stared back at the man for a few Seconds. Then I got up from my chair, escaping the finger and freeing my lips. I did what I couldn’t avoid. I stood there and stared in disbelief. Then, I said it. It slipped right out of me.
No, I screamed it. "TRAVIS!!!! "
then screamed again, but with my mouth closed, then again, and again, progressively weaker. The man must have noticed the spilled salt. He jumped äat me and tackled me. He strangled me. Closed my mouth and nose with one hand. Strangled me with the other. and the next thing I know is, everything went blsck.
\------------
Next thing I knew I was here. I don’t remember much. I just remember that extremely angry headache. I’ve never had a headache this bad. It hurt so fucking terrible I wanted to chop my head off with äa chainsaäw to stop it. I was hyperventilating wildly and my pulse was äat 200. And boy did I feel hot. I remember hearing some indistinct mumbling. It sounded like Sam's voice. I also heard the voice of my coworkers. Sam must have noticed that I had woken up and then put his hand on my forehead. "What the…?", I struggled to say with a weak voice.
My mouth was so dry. "Sam? What…? Woah!!! Woah. Where am I, where am I?" Then I inhaled exasperatedly. Sam pressed my häand to calm me down. "Melissa, it’s all good. Ok? I’m here. All is okay. I-" I interrupted him. "No??? No. No!! Now.. don’t tell me that I fainted!""You did. You spent 6 hours lying unconscious next to your desk. Dan had to call me and we brought you here. Dan carried you here."Sam felt my pulse, with his other hand still on my forehead. "Mmm. Not good. Your heart is way too fast… for jesus sake!"
He grabbed a cold compress and put it on my forehead, and fixated it by placing his hand on the conpress for a few seconds. He then hooked me to sn IV and I begged him for something to kill the headache. So he added some painkillers too.I didn’t tell Sam what happened. I couldn’t either. He had to leave the room bc another emergency arised. He left me allne in this room. I don’t understand anything of what happened these last 3 days but I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to think. I can’t… what the heck. And owww my head. I gotta puke. I’m sorry.
I gotta stop here. Sam is back. He wants to check on me and run a blood test. I don't know what to do. I need to find Travis. And prevent this revenge-angel from doing worse things.
#x200B;
EDIT: I really do wonder where Jason is. I'm concerned about him too. |
I had always considered myself a rational person, scoffing at tales of the supernatural. But one night, I received a text that shattered my skepticism and plunged me into a world of darkness I never thought possible.
It had been a year since Emma, my girlfriend, tragically died in a car accident. Her loss haunted my every moment, and I struggled to move on. I was drowning in grief and despair, clinging to our shared memories like a lifeline.
One evening, as I sat alone in our dimly lit apartment, my phone buzzed. I picked it up, expecting a message from a friend or family member. But what I saw sent a chill down my spine: the sender was listed as “Unknown,” and the message contained a single word: “Darling.”
My heart raced as I stared at the screen. It had to be a cruel prank, I thought. A friend with a sick sense of humor, perhaps. But when I opened the message, the shock coursed through me like an electric current.
The message read, “Meet me at our special place.”
Tears welled up in my eyes as I read those words. Our special place was a secluded spot in the nearby woods where we used to spend hours talking, laughing, and dreaming about our future together. It was our sanctuary, a place filled with memories of our love.
I hesitated, my mind a whirlwind of emotions. It couldn’t be Emma; she was gone. But the message was unmistakable. With trembling hands, I grabbed my jacket and car keys, and I drove to the woods.
The night was cold and moonless, the forest shrouded in darkness. The only light came from the dim glow of my phone, guiding me to our spot. As I approached, the memories flooded back—our laughter, our whispers of love, the way she’d playfully tease me.
But when I reached the clearing, there was no one there. Just the rustling of leaves in the wind and the distant hoot of an owl. My heart sank, and I felt a sense of crushing loss.
Then, my phone buzzed again. Another message from “Unknown.” It read, “You left me alone.”
Dread consumed me as I typed a reply, “Emma, is that you?”
The response was almost immediate, “I never left. I’m always with you.”
Tears streamed down my face as I stared at the screen. It couldn’t be true, could it? Was Emma really communicating with me from beyond the grave? But doubt gnawed at me. This couldn’t be her.
The messages continued, each one more unsettling than the last. She spoke of our most intimate moments, things only Emma and I would know. She described our future together in vivid detail, a future that could never be.
As the night wore on, I felt like I was losing my grip on reality. The text messages grew darker, filled with anger and accusations. Emma blamed me for her death, for not being there to save her. My heart ached with guilt and despair.
I begged for her forgiveness, for her to reveal herself, but the messages only grew more sinister. She spoke of death, of a love that transcended the boundaries between life and the afterlife.
Terrified and broken, I fled the woods, leaving behind the ghostly messages and the memory of our love. But the texts didn’t stop. They followed me home, tormenting me day and night, a relentless reminder of a love that could never die.
I tried to block the number, to escape the relentless onslaught of messages, but they always found a way through. Emma’s presence, or whatever it was, clung to me like a malevolent shadow, driving me to the brink of madness.
In the end, I couldn’t take it anymore. I left our apartment, leaving behind everything that reminded me of Emma, hoping to escape her haunting messages. But as I write this, I can still feel her presence, her whispers in the dark, a love that refuses to let go, a love that is as twisted and eternal as death itself. |
It all started early this morning. Typing this out was hard… For many reasons, but you’ll understand why by the end of this. Just bear with me.
I had a craving for sushi, but I’d gotten off work way too late to pick up anything from the local hibachi place in town. As my truck barrelled down the road, I couldn’t help but think about how long it had been since I’d actually eaten anything, though. I always skipped breakfast and I’d woken up a little late for my 7 PM shift, so I’d slept right through lunch time.
Tonight had been so busy that I barely had any time to breathe. By the time I clocked out at 3 this morning, it finally hit me that I was starving. In all honesty, I could’ve eaten just about anything, but my taste buds had a hankering for some type of sushi… So I caved. I stopped at a gas station and parked my truck in one of the many empty spaces near the front of the store.
The little silver bell on the door let out a shrill scream the second I shoved through it. My work boots tracked in a bit of mud, but the floor looked like it hadn’t been mopped in ages, so I didn’t feel too bad. As I moved towards the back of the store where the deli items were located, my eyes landed on several types of sandwiches: tuna salad, roasted chicken, honey baked ham, and pimento cheese.
There was a hotdog machine on the counter, the dogs wrinkled and dry. I scrunched up my nose, the smell pungent and strange. It almost smelled a bit rancid. But that’s not what I was there for anyways. The second my eyes landed on the last box of sushi, I easily pushed that thought to the side.
As I snatched it up, I peered through the clear container to try and figure out just what kind it was. It definitely wasn’t fried, but it didn’t look like any type of sashimi either. Four perfect, cylindrical rolls laid neatly beside each other on what looked like a bed of folded parchment paper. A dab of wasabi was smeared in the corner, and a few slices of thinly cut pickled ginger was nestled up next to it. There was no label and no expiration date, so with a quick glance around the gas station, I brought the box up to my nose and sniffed. It smelled fine, so I shrugged and toted it up to the cash register.
I shuffled in place for a few moments, waiting for someone to come slinking out of the back of the store to check me out, but that place was dead as a doornail. That’s when my eyes caught sight of the sign next to a little silver bell perched on the desk.
*“Ding the bell for assistance.”*
With a small tap, the bell tinged, and within a couple seconds, a slim brunette woman appeared. A small smile tugged at her lips as she grabbed the sushi and typed in the number on the side of the container.
“Is this all for you today?” Her hands were already shoving it into a bag before I spoke.
“Actually, I was wondering, what kind of sushi is that? There wasn’t any label, or pricing or-”
“It’s just a California roll,” she blurted out, her face instantly paling. Her eyes were shifting between me and something behind me.
I raised a quizzical brow. “Are you sure? That doesn’t look like crab meat.”
Her eyes pleaded with me not to probe any further, once again flickering between me and something behind me. “I’m positive! It’s probably because it’s imitation crab meat!” She awkwardly laughed, her hand shaking slightly. “Your total comes to $10.52,” she squeaked, eyes barely meeting mine.
My hands dug around in my pocket, producing two fives. I dug around a little more for some change when I noticed something odd in the reflection of one of the convex security mirrors. A man stood near the back of the store close to the restrooms.
His hulking form took up the entirety of the small hallway as he leaned against the wall. Something sharp was nestled in his hand. The filthy fluorescent lights glinted off of the metal. I squinted my eyes and then paused. I dropped the change onto the counter, stilling, when I realized what he was clutching. A knife.
A hand shot out to clutch my own, frightened blue eyes catching mine as her trembling lips mouthed something I couldn’t quite make out. Regardless, she now knew that *I* knew what was going on. Despite wanting to dart out of that place like my pants were on fire, I couldn’t help but feel some type of sympathy for the woman. She was much too small to fight him off, and I’d feel horrible if I just left her here to deal with this situation on her own. Who knows what sick, twisted ideas this man had in mind. Either way, I figured that none of them would be pretty.
So, I had to be strategic. I needed to keep her talking until I could figure out a plan. That man was clearly waiting for me to leave before he made his move. Or perhaps he was sizing me up? I was a pretty big man myself, towering over most of the shelves in this gas station enough that I could see the dust that coated everything in a thin, gray film.
The sound of the cash register slamming closed was what brought me back to her worried expression. Her small hand reached out, before she said, “sir, would you like a receipt?” I almost instinctively said no before I saw something scrawled on the other side of the paper.
*“Please don’t leave me here alone with him.”*
My eyes softened as I met hers, my mind coming up with a million things to talk about until I settled on a plan to help her.
“Yes, I’ll take that.” I took the paper from her hands and shoved it into my back pocket. “Actually, do you have any soy sauce packets?”
The woman nodded. “Yes, I think I’ve got some extra packets.” Her eyes drifted behind me for a second before she reached under the counter and held up the packets. “Are two okay?” Her fingers trembled, dropping one of them onto the floor. I heard her quietly curse before she hurriedly picked it up and slammed it on the counter next to the other. “Anything else?” Her cool blue eyes watered as she sucked her bottom lip in between her teeth.
I tried to scramble for any way to stall, watching as he neared us. I fumbled for a response before I ripped open the sushi container and popped one of the pieces of sushi into my mouth. “Got any chopsticks?” I blurted out, speaking through a mouthful of food.
Once again, I watched as the man halted in place, before she nodded, ducking under the counter. That’s when I realized that the flavor of this sushi was *really* off. In fact, something crunchy was stuck in between my teeth. I tugged it free, but had no time to examine what it was before she popped back up again.
“Here you go,” she whimpered, shoving the chopsticks into my bag, eyes darting behind me once again. Her skittish behavior had me on edge, and I couldn’t help the feeling of unease that settled over me as I glanced up at the mirror once again.
The man was now standing in between the candy bar and the chip aisle, a strange smirk plastered across his face. I watched as his tongue darted out, trailing along the blade of the knife, a rope of saliva stretching from his tongue to the knife like melted mozzarella cheese.
A chill settled over my arms, the hairs standing on end. This dude was one sick son of a gun. My attention was quickly averted when I felt the cool sensation of metal pressed against the top of my hand. My eyes whipped back to the woman’s, a wicked grin flickering across her lips.
Before I could even react, she was moving fast, much too fast for me to process what she had actually done. In fact, my body was in so much shock that when she plunged the blade through the top of my hand, nailing it to the countertop, I had no time to scream. Instead, a quiet hiss left my lips, turning into an agonized groan as I stared at her in complete disbelief.
Thick crimson began to pool around my fingertips. My eyes flew up to meet hers, only to see her winking at the man behind me. My attention quickly whipped up to the mirror again as he slowly stalked closer to me.
“What… What is this?” I managed to sputter out between clenched teeth.
The woman’s smile widened before she dipped a finger into the blood staining the countertop and brought it to her lips. I watched as her tongue swiped it off with a quick little flick. “You know…” she started, her eyes darting back behind me before meeting mine. “You taste *almost* as delicious as you look.”
Before I could even respond, a car pulling into the parking lot caught the attention of all three of us. It swung into the spot next to my truck, and an audible sigh of relief left my lips when I realized that it was one of those blacked out police cruisers.
The woman cursed under her breath, wrenching the knife from my hand and tossing it under the counter. The man behind me halted, and then quickly ducked behind the circular deli cooler, crouching on the ground. The thin little brunette and I locked eyes before she gritted out angrily, “Don’t you say a *word*.”
The both of us watched as he strolled out from behind my truck before walking up to the front door of the gas station. When I glanced back at the counter, I watched as the woman hastily soaked up as much of the blood as she could with a wad of napkins before she shot me a menacing look. “Shove your hand into your hoodie, and don’t you dare take it out,” she threatened, tossing the napkins into the trash.
I was quick to comply, cradling it within the fabric and hoping that it would help slow the bleeding.
“Sir?” Both of us turned, the officer’s arms settled across his chest as he stared up at me. “Is that your truck out there in the parking lot?”
I gulped, feeling the blood soak into the pockets of my hoodie. “Yes, sir. Is there a problem?”
The officer scratched his beard before his eyes glanced at the woman, and then down at the strange stain on the countertop. His black leather boots squeaked on the dirtied linoleum floor as he approached the counter. I couldn’t help but follow his gaze as his eyes scrutinized the stain on the side of the woman’s arm.
“You spill something, little lady? You’ve got something on your arm there.” His voice was gruff and deep, something about it very nonsensical.
I watched her bristle, eyes warily meeting his as she tried to play it off. “Oh, just some soy sauce, that's all!”
The officer quietly hummed in response before he nodded towards the bag of sushi sitting on the counter, his eyes drifting to me. “Son, if you know what’s best for you, I reckon you ought to know that gas station sushi is *never* a good idea.” With a pause, he shrugged, speaking again before I could answer. “But I guess that’s your prerogative.”
With a nod to the lady, he fixed his gaze back on me. “Young man, could you step outside with me for a moment.”
I nodded almost too quickly. The officer raised a single, dark brow before he glanced down at the woman’s name tag. “Georgia, would you excuse us? He’ll be right back in to pay for that.”
She smiled sweetly at him before nodding, but as soon as he turned, her eyes narrowed, shooting daggers at me. “Sure thing!” she responded, her hands nonchalantly wiping my blood from her arm.
The second we got to my truck, the officer eyed me up and down. “You know those tags are expired, right?”
Dumbfounded, I circled back behind my truck. I’d never been more glad that I’d forgotten to renew my tags. If he hadn’t stopped by here, I was sure that something horrible would have happened. I shoved the thought aside, shaking my head. “No, sir. But I do sincerely apologize. I’ve been so busy that it must have slipped my mind.”
With a nod, I watched as he settled his thumbs into the belt loop of his pants. “Well, luckily they’re only about a month expired, and I’m in a generous mood tonight. I reckon I could let you off with a warning this time around.”
“Thank you, sir. I promise I’ll get those renewed as soon as possible.” My hand was in agonizing pain, the adrenaline slowly wearing off, and I was sure the blood was going to soak through my black hoodie at any given moment. I wanted nothing more than to tell him what was really going on, but I also wanted to make it out of this alive. My eyes shifted to Georgia, her gaze fixed on mine before repositioning to the door.
That hulking behemoth of a man who had been wielding the knife from before pushed through the door of the gas station and called out to the officer.
“Everything alright? I think we still need him to pay for that sushi.”
“Just peachy,” the officer replied before patting me on the back and motioning for me to head back into the store. “Go on then, boy.”
Everything in me wanted to beg him not to leave me alone with those psychopaths, but the moment I went to open my mouth, the words slammed back into the back of my throat. The second the officer turned on his heel, the man at the door flashed a knife at me, holding a finger to his lips.
I begrudgingly lumbered over to the door before… It hit me. ***The receipt.*** I still had the receipt tucked into the back pocket of my jeans. My uninjured hand slid into my pocket, fingers frantically rummaged around and then stilled when they landed on the receipt paper.
I quickly yanked it free and waved it in the air, my voice bellowing out so loud that it could have woken the dead. “I’ve already paid, actually! Got the receipt right here in my hand!”
My obnoxious tone got the attention of the officer, and I heard him clear his throat before he said, “Son, there ain’t no reason for you to be hollering like that. Take that bag and head on home.”
The man in front of me growled, yanking the receipt from my fingertips before crumpling it between his fingers, and trading me the bag instead. I hadn’t even noticed that he had been holding it.
The second my fingers snatched it up, I glanced back at the police cruiser still idling in the parking lot before slowly backing away from the man.
When I finally made it to my truck, the police cruiser was getting ready to pull out of the parking lot, but the man was still staring at me, his cold, hardened gaze like that of a well trained predator.
“You know-” he snarled, his voice sharp as razor blades. “You’re the first one who has ever gotten away.” With a pause, he turned on his heel to head back into the store. The last few words he muttered haunted me for the whole rest of the day.
“It’s a shame, really… We could have made *so* many sushi rolls out of you.”
Vomit crept up my throat as the bag slipped from my grasp. Fear coursed through me like white-hot lava as I slammed my truck door shut and shoved it into gear. I’ve never driven so fast in my life. When I finally pulled into my driveway, disbelief and disgust clawed at my insides. If I wasn’t nauseous already, I certainly was now. My eyes slowly glanced down and my stomach heaved. Blood had begun to seep into my jeans, the hoodie pockets now too full to contain it.
When I finally stumbled into the house, my mouth crusted in vomit, my girlfriend was quick to jump into action. I’d never been more thankful to be dating a nurse. After she got me all stitched up, gauze and bandaging wrapping the entirety of my left palm, she quietly sat across from me, her eyes full of worry.
“Colton, what the heck happened tonight?”
With a shake of my head, I met her concerned gaze before managing to push a few words past trembling lips. “**NEVER** eat gas station sushi… I promise you, food poisoning will be the *least* of your worries.” |
I knew I made a mistake when I ran off. Despite that I’m a terrible actress, if I could start over, I might pretend nothing happened and keep finishing the shooting. However, what’s done is done, the only option left is escaping.
So I sprinted through a few blocks and didn’t bother to put on some clothes. No need to look back, because the humming followed, and just listening to it made me want to turn back and please it so it could give me a deadly hug. But I focused on the scary scene I witnessed, urging myself to speed up.
I guessed that why that lady approached it.
Fortunately, I was familiar with this area. I made a close friend back in college, who chased her dream and became a popular influencer. We used to hang out when she moved to this town. Watching a silly movie, grabbing a cup of coffee or wandering around the funny stores, something like that. Then one day, she stopped replying my texts or picked up my calls.
It was hurtful at first. We had a lot of great time and memories, how could she completely left behind? I sent tons of messages to her, angry, upset ,even begging her to respond, but nothing. Last time I visited her, the landlord told me she moved out, abandoned all her stuffs just vanished. Eventually, I moved on, and never came back.
Until now.
I dived into the crowd to hide my trace. I didn’t know how it hunted me, hopefully blending into people would make it confused. I squeezed through the crowd and found myself standing in the lobby of a huge department store. I went upstairs by the escalator, I needed to find a lavatory. Running in barefoot started to get painful and I was nearly naked. The elevator was too dangerous, I wouldn’t stand a chance if I bumped into it.
I quickly entered the lavatory at the third floor. It was all pink with black dots on the wall, Yayoi Kusama style. I hided into the first cubicle and got changed. Wearing shirt and sweatpants probably the best decision I’ve made so far.
I couldn’t hear the humming anymore, somehow this made me even more nervous. When the sound sustained, it gave a clear direction. But now it could be anywhere, I didn’t know which way I should go. Suddenly, the click-clack of high heels entered.
“Hello? I saw you ran in here. We haven’t chatted for a while. I knew it a bit too late, but I wanna apologize. “
The voice was familiar, could it be……
I stepped out of the cubicle, she stood next to the window and smiled sheepishly at me.
“How……?”
“Call it fate, the universe wanna give us a second chance. “ she said.
“I am still mad at you, but I feel so relieved at the same time. You wouldn’t believe what I just……”
“Yeah, I know. Before we chat, care to give your bestie a hug?”
Something was off.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Won’t you give me a hug?”
She is never a hugger. We have a lots of differences, however, we share this in common.
I rushed to the exit, and the humming combined with its screaming shouted behind me.
The sound was so sweet, it used to be her voice.
My tears dropped when I was on the run.
Now I know why she couldn’t reply. |
The pounding of my heart echoed in my ears, overpowering the eerie stillness that clung to the small space around me. The only light was the dim glow of a streetlamp filtering through a dirty window. I was trapped in my own bedroom, and every instinct told me to jump out the window and run.
Only a few hours earlier, Halloween night had been in full swing. I remember the excitement as I stepped into “Martinez’s Oddities and Antiques”, an old store that sat at the edge of town. I was 17, just on the cusp of outgrowing Halloween, but my friends and I had decided on one last hurrah. We were going to have the scariest costumes and claim our reign as the "Kings of Halloween".
As I perused through old trinkets and costumes, a particularly grotesque ensemble caught my eye: a patchwork monster, complete with stitched limbs and a hauntingly pale, vacant-eyed mask. The price tag said a mere $20. It felt like destiny.
I heard an old man's voice, dry like autumn leaves. "Ah, young man, that’s a unique piece, been here for ages."
"Honestly, why's it so cheap?" I asked, smirking.
He just sighed, looking genuinely weary. "It's got a history. But, if you're sure..."
Without a second thought, I handed over the cash, satisfied with my find. As I left the store, I heard him whisper, almost as if to himself, "Beware the costume that wears you."
The sun had set by the time I got home. My parents were out, and my sister was busy with her own Halloween plans. Alone, I decided to try on the costume. Slipping into it felt… oddly comforting, like it had been tailored just for me. The fabric was surprisingly warm against my skin, caressing every contour of my body. I looked in the mirror. The mask was flawless, adhering seamlessly to my face, with eyes that almost glinted in the room's dim light.
Satisfied, I left the costume on the chair in my room and went to take a shower. But when I came out, towel around my waist, I found the costume sprawled on my bed. I could've sworn I'd left it on the chair.
I hesitated, then dismissed the thought. I must’ve tossed it on the bed without thinking. Pushing the eerie feeling aside, I went to sleep, excited for the festivities awaiting.
That night, I awoke to the sensation of being watched. Moonlight revealed the silhouette of the costume standing by the foot of my bed. It was upright, as if worn by an invisible figure. The empty eyes of the mask seemed to be studying me, the stitched mouth slightly agape, whispering words I couldn’t discern.
Panic surged as I bolted upright. Was this some twisted prank? But as I switched on the light, the costume collapsed, lifeless, onto the floor. I was shaking, heart pounding, the weight of the eeriness pressing down on me.
"Damn, I'm losing it," I muttered, forcing a laugh. I picked up the costume and locked it in my closet, assuring myself it was all just the product of an overactive imagination.
I lay down, forcing my breathing to slow, and eventually drifted back to sleep. But when I awoke, the sun was up, and my closet door stood ajar. The costume was gone.
I tried to shake off my unease, convincing myself that I'd just misplaced it in my half-awake state. But as I stepped into the kitchen, my heart dropped. The costume was there, sitting on the kitchen table, seemingly waiting for me.
"Very funny," I called out, thinking my sister was playing a trick on me. But the house was empty, a note from my parents saying they had left for a weekend trip.
It couldn’t be. The unease deepened, twisting my stomach. I grabbed the costume, stuffing it into a garbage bag and tying it tight. The local dump was my destination. I had to get rid of it.
But things didn't go as planned. My car wouldn't start. Every attempt to turn the engine was met with a stubborn silence. I opted for a walk instead, hauling the bag with the dreaded costume to a nearby wooded area. I planned to bury it.
However, as I dug, a chilling wind whispered through the trees, carrying with it faint, echoing laughter. The hairs on my neck stood on end. Suddenly, the weight of the bag shifted, and the costume erupted from it, looming over me like a dark specter.
Frozen in terror, I could only watch as the costume seemed to inhale, expanding and contorting, taking on a life of its own. It rushed at me, forcing its way onto my body, the mask smothering my screams.
When I regained my senses, I was back in my room. The costume was gone. But something was wrong. My reflection in the mirror was not mine. Staring back at me was the grotesque, stitched face of the monster, its empty eyes void of humanity. I touched my face, but felt only the cold, hard texture of the mask. Panic set in.
I had to get out. I had to find help. But as I reached for the door, it swung open, revealing myself, or rather, the teenager I used to be, staring back at me, smirking.
He - the version of me that stood before me - was smirking, an expression of cold satisfaction playing on his lips. "Nice look," he said mockingly. "Always wanted to be a monster, didn't you?"
I tried to speak, but the mask's stitched mouth wouldn't budge. A muffled scream was all I could produce.
My doppelganger stepped closer, looking me up and down. "You probably have so many questions. How? Why?" He chuckled. "I guess I'd be confused too if I were in your position."
In a blur, he lunged at me, pinning me against the wall. His strength was overwhelming. "You see," he whispered, his cold breath on my face, "that costume? It's ancient. Cursed. It seeks to replace its wearer, trapping them in a monstrous shell while it gets to live out their life."
I wriggled and squirmed, trying to break free, but it was futile. The mask's eyes seemed to constrict my vision, adding to my sense of suffocation.
He released me suddenly, and I crumpled to the floor. "I have a party to attend. After all, it is my Halloween now," he said with a wink, leaving me alone in my confinement.
Desperation surged within. There had to be a way out of this nightmare. I remembered the old shopkeeper's words: "Beware the costume that wears you." The store! Maybe he would have a solution.
Navigating the outside world proved a challenge. People screamed and ran at the sight of the ghastly figure I'd become. I had to stick to the shadows, avoiding the revelry of Halloween parties.
When I reached “Martinez’s Oddities and Antiques,” the bell above the door jingled softly. The old shopkeeper looked up, his eyes widening in recognition. "I warned you," he whispered, a hint of sorrow in his voice.
Tears streamed down the mask, and I tried to communicate my desperation.
The old man approached cautiously. "There might be a way," he murmured. "The legend speaks of confronting the imposter, asserting your true identity. You need to reclaim your life."
But how? The solution dawned on me: my friends. They'd know the real me, they'd recognize an imposter. If I could convince them, maybe I could reclaim my identity and force the doppelganger out.
The old man handed me a small, ornate mirror. "Use this," he said. "It reflects the true soul. If you can get your imposter to look into it, he'll be forced to confront the truth."
Grateful, I left the store, determined to find my friends. They were at our usual Halloween hangout spot, a small bonfire in the woods. As I approached, I heard familiar laughter, but it was tainted, wrong.
There he was, my doppelganger, reveling in my life, surrounded by my friends. Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the clearing, holding up the mirror.
The laughter ceased. Everyone turned to stare, confusion evident. "Who invited the freak?" My doppelganger laughed, but there was a hint of nervousness in his voice.
"I did," I mumbled through the mask, approaching him. "Look into the mirror."
He hesitated, then sneered. "Fine." But as he looked into the ornate mirror, his expression changed. The truth stared back at him, the monstrous soul beneath the human exterior.
My friends gasped, seeing the real monster for the first time. They surrounded him, chanting my name, asserting my true identity.
As their voices grew louder, the doppelganger screamed, the costume wrapping around him, consuming him. And just like that, he was gone.
Exhausted, I collapsed. When I came to, the mask was gone. My face, my identity, had been restored. My friends embraced me, relief evident in their eyes.
We burned the costume that night, the fire consuming the dark history it carried. Halloween would never be the same for me. But as I looked at my reflection in the old mirror, I knew one thing: I had reclaimed my life, and no monster could ever take that away.
The days that followed were surreal. Word spread quickly about my Halloween ordeal. Some believed it was just an elaborate prank, but others, having seen the monstrous doppelganger and the terror in my eyes, knew better. Whispers filled the hallways at school, and I was met with a mix of awe, skepticism, and fear.
My friends stuck by my side, a protective barrier against the constant barrage of questions and stares. But even their presence couldn't erase the nightmare that haunted my every waking moment. Every shadow seemed to hide a lurking threat, every mirror a potential trap.
Sleep was elusive. Nightmares of being trapped, of losing my identity, plagued me. One night, as I tossed and turned, a faint rustling reached my ears. I sat up, heart racing. The sound was coming from my closet.
Steeling myself, I approached, hand shaking as I reached for the door. The sight that met my eyes sent a cold shiver down my spine: the burnt remains of the costume, charred and torn, yet unmistakably the same.
I backed away, terror clawing at my throat. How was this possible? We had burned it. It should have been ashes and memories.
As the days turned to weeks, the costume seemed to be everywhere. I'd find bits of its charred fabric in my backpack, in my shoes, even in my food. It was regenerating, reforming, and it was coming for me.
Desperation drove me back to “Martinez’s Oddities and Antiques.” The familiar bell jingled as I entered, the comforting scent of old books and wood filling the air. The old shopkeeper looked up, his expression somber.
"I hoped I wouldn't see you again under these circumstances," he murmured.
I placed the charred fragments on the counter. "It's coming back. It's rebuilding itself."
He nodded slowly. "The curse is powerful. Burning it may not have been enough. To truly break the curse, you must find the origin of its creation and confront it there."
A journey? I was willing to do anything to put an end to this nightmare. The shopkeeper handed me an ancient-looking map, the edges frayed and discolored with age.
"This will lead you to where the curse began," he said. "Be prepared. The path will be treacherous, and the entity that created the costume will not let it go easily."
Armed with the map and a newfound determination, I set out. My journey led me to an abandoned village, shrouded in fog and silence. Decaying buildings leaned precariously, the weight of their dark history evident in every crack and creak.
The map led me to the heart of the village, to an old tailor shop. Inside, amidst the dust and decay, stood a mannequin, draped with an all-too-familiar fabric: the costume.
A voice echoed through the silent shop, cold and haunting. "So you've come to end it?"
From the shadows emerged an old tailor, his fingers long and bony, eyes hollow and vacant. "I created it," he whispered, "a masterpiece, a living garment to carry on my legacy. And you want to destroy it."
Determination surged within me. "I want my life back," I declared.
The tailor hissed, his form shifting and contorting, mirroring the monstrous design of the costume. I realized with a jolt of terror that he was the original wearer, consumed by his own creation.
The shop seemed to close in on us as we clashed, a dance of wills and fates. With every ounce of my strength, I forced the monstrous tailor towards the mannequin, pushing him into his own cursed creation.
A blinding light filled the room, and when it subsided, both the tailor and the costume were gone, leaving only silence and dust.
Exhausted, I made my way back to town, the weight of the curse finally lifted. The nightmares ceased, and life slowly returned to normal.
Yet, every Halloween, I'd remember. The shadows seemed deeper, the nights colder. And while the costume was gone, its legacy, the echo of fear and the haunting memory of that cursed night, would stay with me forever. |
The only thing my ten year old daughter, Isobel, requested for her birthday was a hamster.
Her best friend Miranda had gotten one only a couple months beforehand, and now it was all that she could talk about. *Dad, look!* She would exclaim, as she shoved her phone into my face. *Look at Miranda's hamster eating lettuce! OH. MY. GOD. How cute is she?!*
It was a picture. Of a hamster. I didn't see the appeal. But it was all she wanted to say, hamster-this, hamster-that. Finally, and after much deliberation with my wife, Ella, we decided to acquiesce to her wishes. After all, a hamster as a first pet wasn't such a bad idea. It would teach her responsibility, and all those other desirable quality traits google would tell me about.
And so, two weeks later Isobel got her wish. The joy that radiated off her face was well worth the poop-scooping status that I had been delegated to. In true ten-year-old-girl fashion, the hamster was affectionately named Mr Fuzzycheeks.
And, well, over the next few days, I had never seen Isobel happier. She was either fawning over Mr Fuzzycheeks while he was inside his cage, or tenderly carrying him inside her arms, insisting that she show Mr Fuzzycheeks what the house looked like. She was happy, so I was happy. Ella, however, seemed to be slightly concerned for the hamster’s well being. She was always fretting over him, asking me if I was sure that I had fed him, *‘because he looks so hungry.’*
I would tell her that, yes, I had fed the hamster, and not to worry. She seemed as if she didn’t believe me, always looking over at Mr Fuzzycheeks cage, a worried expression plastered on her face. I was slightly concerned for Ella, but I could also see where she was coming from. There was something *off* about the hamster.
I mean, I would never admit it, but he just seemed so. . .*unnatural*. I know it sounds insane to say it, but I was almost scared of my daughter’s pet hamster. It had gotten to the point where I actively avoided being in the same room as him. I couldn’t really tell what made him so strange to me. It could have been his black, soulless, little pinpricks of eyes that followed me around the room, and glistened with such unequaled *hunger* wherever it looked.
It could have been the way the hamster ate his food. Place some vegetables in front of him, and they’d be gone before you would take your hand out of the cage. He ate like that meal would be his last, accompanied by loud, wet smacking noises that came from his tiny mouth as he ate. Being close to him as he ate was not a pleasant experience.
*What are you doing?* I would chide myself. *It’s a freaking hamster. Stop acting like an idiot. You’ll get used to him, and things will get better.*
In reality, things got a lot worse the night Ella disappeared.
The evening before she disappeared, her insistence that Mr Fuzzycheeks was hungry had become more frequent. She would slip the phrase into almost every conversation we had, claiming that, *‘he probably hasn’t been fed enough. I know hamsters look small, but they have a huge appetite.’*
I would wave her claims off. Mr Fuzzycheeks had been fed, That was the end of that.
In hindsight, I should have listened to what she had to say. Because the next morning she was gone. There wasn’t a single trace of her. I looked everywhere- called friends and the police. But there were no witnesses. No theories. Nothing. She had simply vanished.
The only strange thing I had found that morning was that the carpeted floor around the living room was damp- sticky almost. A closer look revealed that there was a thin, clear liquid that was stretched across the entirety of the room. But I couldn’t make out what it was.
The police weren’t too much of a help. Ella was a thinking adult, after all. There was no sign of any struggle, and people are allowed to leave. I tried to break the news gently to Isobel over lunch that her mother had disappeared. But she seemed disinterested, indifferent almost.
She seemed to be more focused on Mr Fuzzycheeks as she ate. Looking over from his cage to her plate of food. She swallowed a forkful of rice before looking up to me and asking, “Have you fed Mr Fuzzycheeks today? He looks hungry.”
I stared at her, fork midway to mouth, as I tried to process what she had just said, ‘I. . .uhh, of course I have, sweetie. What makes you think I haven’t?”
She shrugged. “Just asking. That’s all.”
But that wasn't all. Over the next few days, as I tried to work with the police, who had finally opened an investigation, Isobel continued to ask me the same query more and more frequently. More urgently.
“Are you sure you fed Mr Fuzzycheeks dad?” She would ask, her voice shaky and tears welling up in her eyes. “I can’t bear to think of him going through another night *starving*.”
“Of course I have. He’s not hungry, I’ve told you this before, sweetheart.” I would answer her, but she would shake her head at me, clearly not believing what I had said. She spent most of her time sitting next to Mr Fuzzycheeks cage, fawning over him.
That night, I heard a sound. Ever since Ella’s disappearance, I hadn’t been able to sleep at night at all, worrying that whatever had befallen her would happen to Isobel as well. I spent my night’s tossing and wishing that Ella would just come back. And so, I heard the sound. It was sharp and metallic, but subdued, almost as if whatever had caused the sound was purposefully trying to be quiet.
I lay in bed, contemplating what I had just heard. Then the sound rang out through the darkness again, and again, at varying intervals. Four, five times.
*Six.* I counted.
*Seven.*
The sounds were irregular in frequency. So it wasn’t some automated machine whirring in the dead of night. No, it was something being acted upon by a conscious, physical force, human or otherwise.
*Eight.*
*Alright, next sound and I go up and look at what’s going on.* I told myself.
*Nine.*
I wearily crept out of bed and made my way downstairs, to where I thought the sound was originating from. I passed by Isobel’s room on the way there and had a peek inside. Her room was immaculate, as usual. Everything put neatly away, her clothes folded, the bed made. I smiled and left.
*. . .the bed was made.*
I quickly spun around. The bed was flat, with no human-like shapes in the cover that indicted someone was concealed underneath. *She wasn’t there.*
I searched through the empty room, my heart in my throat and fear creeping in.
“Isobel, where are you?” I said under my breath.
*Snick.* The sound emanated from the darkness once more. Making up my mind, I continued my silent journey towards the sound’s origin, trying to discern what it was as I moved.
*Snick.*
It had become louder as I moved closer to the living room. I slowly passed through the doorway and placed my hand on the switch, chasing away the darkness and bathing the room in light, causing my eyes to instinctively squint in pain.
I was not ready for the scene that the light revealed.
Isobel was sitting next to Mr Fuzzycheek’s cage, a kitchen knife in hand, and the upper half of her body entirely inside of his cage. The entirety of the skin and muscle on her left leg was whittled down to the bone, leaving nothing but a skeleton poking out from a mound of blood-stained flesh. She was working on her right leg, gingerly removing the flesh and sinew with sharp cuts that made a snick as the knife moved through her body. Next to her, in his cage, Mr Fuzzycheeks was nibbling on what was left of her leg.
In one dreadful moment, everything became clear. She was *feeding* him.
“Isobel!” I called out.
She didn’t respond.
I ran towards her, fearing for her life. I touched her on the shoulder, and she flinched, turning her head to face me. As she looked at me, I realized why she wasn’t responding. Her leg wasn’t the only thing missing. She had lopped off both of her ears, leaving behind streams of blood that trailed into Mr Fuzzycheeks cage. The hamster was lapping up the blood as it ate, making a quick meal of Isobel’s appendages.
Isobel’s left eye was also gouged out, leaving behind a blood-filled pit to showcase what was once stationed there. Instinctively, I tried to grab the knife out of her hand. She pulled away from me, not letting me even touch her.
“What are you doing?!” She shrieked. Her voice was low and gurgled slightly, almost as if she was speaking underwater.
“Isobel. . .stop! You’re hurting yourself!” I pleaded.
“Can’t you see I’m feeding him? Can’t you see how *hungry* he is?”
In a split-second decision, I tried to push Isobel to the ground. The rational side of me didn’t want to hurt her, but the logical side knew if I didn’t stop her at any cost, she would hurt herself worse than I could.
I swung at her.
She brushed aside my blow, with inhuman strength disproportionate to her ten year old body. “What are you doing?!” She yelled again, louder than before.
I fell backwards, fazed by her newfound strength.
She stood up, hunched on one side on account of her non-existent leg, and held the knife in her hand, poised at me. Her blood-soaked hair fell in front of her face as she moved forwards, sending tear-like blood droplets down her forehead and onto the floor.
“Isobel! Izzy! Listen to me! Stop! You’re hurting yourself!” I pleaded with her.
“You *CANNOT* stop Mr Fuzzycheeks’ feeding time!”
She took a step forward. I stepped backwards, suddenly fearing my own daughter.
Her lips curled into a tight, slightly deranged smile. “Mr Fuzzycheeks needs his food, and I am *MORE* than happy to provide.” Behind her, the hamster began squeaking. By the looks of it, it had already finished its meal, and was eager to begin the next course.
The squeaking seemed to invigorate Isobel, and she lunged forwards, knife aiming for my chest. Foreseeing her move, I rolled to the side and tried to figure out how I should go about this situation. I did have the advantage of size over her, but she seemed to trump me in strength. I obviously didn’t want her dead, but it looked like she couldn’t care less.
It wasn’t looking good.
I slowly stood up and maneuvered myself between the hamster and Isobel. Maybe if I could somehow kill the damned hamster, Isobel would snap out of it. We kept circling until we were all in a perfectly straight line. The hamster was a few feet behind me and squeaking like mad. Isobel was in front of me, closer than I would have liked, a crazed look in her remaining eye and red-stained teeth that glistened in the darkness.
*Alright*. I said to myself. *Grab the hamster. Jump out of Isobel’s way. Grab the hamster. Jump out of Isobel’s way.*
I grabbed the hamster. It bit me. Hard. Isobel started shrieking. I jumped in pain. Both from the ferocity of Mr Fuzzycheeks’ bite and the intensity of the scream that Isobel was somehow making. I buried my ears in the palms of my hands, my head throbbing with pain.
Isobel threw her head back and started running at full speed towards me, all without ever stopping her shrieking. She hit me like a freight train and I was thrown back against the wall, my chest heaving. My vision became blurry, dotted with black spots that pulsated through my retina. On my hands and knees and in immense pain, I weakly tried to crawl away.
Isobel jerked her head forward, gazing directly into my eyes. “Please. . .” I said, in between heavy breaths.
Isobel cocked her head, yet her face remained blank and cold. “Mr Fuzzycheeks *needs* to eat. You’ll see.”
She grabbed me by the neck and lifted me of the ground. I squeezed my eyes shut. The truth was that I was scared. Not for my own life, but for Isobel’s. First Ella, and now *her*? The thought was too much. She was killing us both for a *fucking hamster*.
She smacked my head against the wall, creating a sickening crack, and making me fall to the ground. Lifeless. It was dark and I was cold. I could hear Isobel continue to remove chunks of her body, but I could do nothing. I was afraid. I was stuck. I was alone. I was worse than dead. My eyelids shone brightly and stung from the blood that was streaming down my face. But I still managed to sleep.
I woke up the next morning, with some control of my movements. There was no sign of the events of the previous nights. The blood and pieces of flesh that had covered the floor were all gone, replaced by a light coating of a clear substance.
Saliva.
Isobel had disappeared as well, just like Ella had. But this time around, it wasn’t too hard to discern what had happened. Mr Fuzzycheeks cage was back in pristine condition, and he was his happy little self. Squeaking along as if nothing had happened.
I thought about. . .disposing of him. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it. It wasn’t his fault anyways. He was just a hamster. For reasons I still don’t know, Isobel and Ella did what they did of their own accord. One look at his cute little face told me all I needed to know. *How could a little meat potato even begin do something like this?* I would keep him, I decided.
*Plus, look how hungry he looks.* I smiled as I chucked yet another carrot into his cage.
|
I recently joined a missing person search in my area. I don’t personally know the man who disappeared, but we live in the same neighborhood and I have mutual friends with him, so I figured it was the right thing to do to join the effort.
His wife had already called all their friends, family, and called hospitals and the police, but couldn’t find any trace of him. We all got together and trawled the neighborhood, checked the ditches and all that in case he’d had a car wreck—even though his car was still at home, but you can never be too careful, I guess. Well anyway, to make a long story short, we still haven’t found him, and it’s been a couple of weeks now, and of course his wife is distraught.
A lot of people are starting to gossip that he’s just a deadbeat who decided he didn’t want to be a father and husband, and yadda yadda. At first I was kinda thinking the same, but then I started digging a bit into his social media. And lo and behold, his instagram and twitter handles are the same as his reddit username. His post history suggests he’s not a deadbeat at all. Maybe he’s gone a little bonkers. Maybe he’ll show up in the news after kidnapping some poor family’s baby.
But I’m sharing this here in case any of you people can find any potential clues to where he is, especially if he needs some professional help. Copy + pasted several of his posts below.
**Posted in r/advice**
We brought home the wrong baby.
I’m sure of it. And it’s not like it’s something that’s never happened before. There are news stories about this pretty much all the time, and TV shows too. This isn’t our baby. Someone else has our baby. Switched at birth, hospital incompetence, whatever you want to call it. The baby we have in our house, that my partner is holding right now, is just not our baby, even if all the records say otherwise.
I keep trying to tell her, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. Doesn’t even want to entertain the idea. I get it, I do. She’s already attached to this baby, been feeding it and changing it and all that stuff. It’s impossible not to bond with the baby. I really get that.
And I want to underscore that I don’t hate this baby, okay? It’s just not *our* baby. It’s not the baby we made together. It’s not *our* baby. I don’t want to get rid of this wrong baby, I just want to fix this situation. I’m sure the other parents who are the actual parents of this baby would want it, right? We’re all on the same side. We just want things to be the way they’re supposed to be.
I can’t just take this one back to the hospital or to the police station demanding an exchange. My partner and I need to put our heads together and try to figure out next steps.
So how do I convince my partner that this isn’t our baby?
EDIT: Thanks for the comments and advice, everyone. I got a lot of questions about how I knew this isn’t our baby, so I guess I should explain that a little more.
First of all, the baby doesn’t look like us. I don’t mean in the sense that it has dad’s eyes or mom’s nose or whatever. I mean, if you compare this baby to any of the baby photos in our families, it doesn’t resemble any of us. You know how some babies look like an uncle or a grandmother when they were babies? This one doesn’t. My partner and I dug out the family albums and everything, we wanted to do a little cute Facebook post and tag the family member the baby looked most like. That’s when we realized the baby doesn’t have any family features. My partner was disappointed but she insists that it’s just how our particular genes mixed together, a fluke. But I disagree, especially with everything else I’ve noticed.
The baby won’t breastfeed. We have to bottle feed. It’s like the baby doesn’t like the taste of my partner’s milk, because it’s not the right milk. Babies can sense stuff like that.
The baby is also quiet. It almost never cries. It never smiles or laughs. It’s like it’s waiting for something, or trying to tell us something. Like it’s trying not to bond with us because we’re not the natural parents.
I’ll ask her to consent to another DNA test. Or I can just send samples without bothering her, just to make sure and not cause any needless distress. Maybe the first results were an error.
Edit 2: Okay, I get it. Some babies just don’t latch well or just have a gentle temperament. I wasn’t trying to say the baby is evil or anything, I’m just saying that it’s not the way our baby would behave, based on our family history. Every time our parents come over, they make comments about how *different* this baby is compared to us when we were babies. That’s all I’m saying.
Anyway, I’ve called the hospital again, and went there and demanded the nursery security footage. Usually they only keep footage for 90 days, but there’s a nurse who believes me, and she secretly recorded it on her phone and shared it with me. This is big. She told me that it happens sometimes, babies get mixed up. The footage she recorded doesn’t show them mixing up any babies, but it could have happened at any point, even outside the room. The hospital is denying everything, of course.
I’ve reached out to parent boards and forums, asking if this has happened to anyone else and how they realized it had happened. It’s usually based on looks—a baby with brown eyes when both parents have blue eyes, or just that the baby doesn’t look like either of them. Stuff like that. And they get DNA testing done, just like we did. And it turns out the babies were switched! Just like ours.
So the DNA test must have returned erroneous results for the baby we brought home, because I know for sure that this isn’t our baby and none of you is going to convince me otherwise. You’re not here. You can’t see what’s going on.
I’m sending another sample for DNA testing.
**Posted in r/newborns**
Disagreement over raising baby
My partner and I are having a huge disagreement right now about whether we should raise this baby. For context, there was a mix-up and we brought the wrong baby home from the hospital. (It’s a whole thing.)
I don’t want to keep this baby. I’m not saying we should kick it to the curb or yeet it into the nearest dumpster. I’m saying we shouldn’t be bonding with this baby. We need to be looking for its real parents so we can switch them back. Then we can bond with our real baby.
But my partner actually believes that this baby is ours, even though it obviously isn’t. She thinks hospitals have protocols to prevent mix-ups, but she doesn’t understand that no system is infallible. But that’s a different issue.
The issue is that she doesn’t even want to try to figure out where our real baby is. She wants to go through life raising this baby instead of our own. I keep asking her what if our real baby is in an abusive household or something? Shouldn’t we be trying to save our own flesh and blood? It makes me sick just thinking about what our baby could be going through…
Am I wrong here? We literally have the wrong baby, but nothing I say will convince her that we should find our real baby. What am I supposed to do???
EDIT: Some of you need to learn how to put yourself in another person’s shoes. How would you feel if your baby was just switched and you had no idea where they were or who was taking care of them? Your baby could be dead for all you knew. How would you feel?
Like I said I don’t hate the baby we have right now. It didn’t do anything wrong. But I want the baby who was supposed to come home with us. Not this one.
**Posted in r/DNA**
Paternity test results keep coming back with false positives?
To make a long story short, my partner gave birth a few months ago, and there was a mix-up at the hospital. We ended up bringing home the wrong baby, and I got suspicious enough to get a paternity test.
My partner agreed to the first one, but when it came back positive it satisfied her the baby we have now is biologically ours. I kept trying to tell her it was obviously a mistake and I wanted to do another test, so I sent in another sample.
It just came back positive again. Is it common for DNA tests to give false positives? Or is it possible that this baby is a distant cousin to me or something and that’s why it keeps showing a relation between us? Because this definitely isn’t my baby.
**Posted in r/helpme**
I feel like I’m losing my mind
My partner and I brought the wrong baby home from the hospital and no one believes me. No one is listening to me. I keep pointing out things like how the baby looks and acts nothing like us, I show her the news stories about people who find out later in life that they were switched at birth, and I found some evidence that paternity tests might not even be reliable.
I just want to find my baby and make sure everything is way the it’s supposed to be. Is that so bad?
All these months I’ve never said anything bad about the baby we’re taking care of right now. It’s just different. It’s just not ours.
It still almost never cries, but it never smiles or laughs, either. It drinks a lot of formula (because it refused to breastfeed) but it hasn’t grown much bigger. The babies in our families have always been big and grown fast. On both our sides, babies are usually sitting up around six months. But it’s been seven months and this baby can’t even support its own head yet. My partner has gone to the doctor and they ran some tests that all came back normal. Maybe it’s normal for the family the baby is actually from, probably. But it’s just another piece of evidence for me that this isn’t our baby.
What am I supposed to do? This isn’t a movie where I can just hire a hacker to get into the hospital mainframe and find the names of every person who was born that day or gave birth that day. I tried to find birth announcements in the papers from earlier this year and even checked on Facebook. In a few months the babies will be turning one, so I could look for “baby’s first birthday” posts on social media, but the longer I wait the more anxious I get not knowing what happened to our baby. How am I supposed to find our real baby???
**Posted in r/folklore**
Looking for sources on changelings
Someone mentioned a creature called a changeling to me, and I was wondering if anyone has any in-depth resources on what they are, how they’re recognized, how they’re dealt with, etc.? I know that they vary by culture so I guess I’ll take whatever you got. TIA
**Posted in r/unexplained**
Baby may not be human
My partner and I brought home the wrong baby after a mix-up, and the hospital
has always denied the mix-up and all four DNA tests I took came back positive, which is impossible because I know for a fact that this isn’t our baby. I came across resources about changelings, which are non-human creatures (usually fairies or trolls) that switch their babies with humans so that humans are raising the non-human baby, which is disguised to look like a human baby.
I found some tests to determine whether a baby is a changeling. I used an eggshell as a bowl and started cooking with it, and the baby started laughing. I almost fainted. This baby almost never laughs, ever. It barely even smiles. But it laughed at the egg test.
But I kept testing it, just to be sure.
One of the signs of a changeling is that they don’t grow right—and this baby definitely doesn’t. At seven months old it still couldn’t even lift its own head. After my partner took it to the doctor it finally smartened up and started sitting up a little, just enough to make my partner happy that it was meeting some milestones or whatever.
In some sources changelings do strange things when they think no one is looking. I set up a nanny cam to watch it. And what did I see? When it’s alone, the baby will crawl around and pull itself up into a standing position. If it senses someone approaching, it drops back down and pretends it’s helpless so someone will pick it up. A real baby doesn’t act like that.
I think it knows that I know.
——
Those are all the posts he made on Reddit, unless he had a throwaway account I can’t find. I did look a little to see if anyone was posting weird stuff like “how to kill a changeling,” but I haven’t come across anything, so I guess that’s good.
I also can’t figure out where he got the idea of a changeling. I haven’t seen any comments on his posts suggesting his baby was a changeling. Maybe he heard it from a TV show, or he came across the term on his own as he tried to justify his belief.
EDIT: Thanks to u/ XXXX for looking into this and actually managing to find what might be his throwaway account. Copy + pasted below:
**Posted in r/offmychest**
cant take it anymore
theres something wrong with this baby and i cant be around here anymore. my partner doesnt get it, she isn’t listening to anything im saying, were always fighting now about this because i cant let it go. but how can i let it go? this isn’t my baby. it isn’t hers eiether. it’s just not and i don’t understand why she won’t listen.
it’s not even about a mix-up anymore. there was no mix-up, it was an intentional switch. someone wanted us to raise their baby so they took ours and left their own. it’s a changeling.
it’s not that farfetched if you look at nature. the cuckkoo birds lay their eggs in another bird’s nest so they don’t have to raise the chicks themselves. they even throw out eggs that are already there to make room for their own. they don’t switch. they just get rid of eggs so they can replace them.
i can only pray that this isn’t what happened with my baby. i would rather die than find out our baby was killed and replaced with the changeling
i have to find my baby, i just don’t know were to start. but i can’t keep staying here and fighting over it, it doesn’t get us anyway anywhere.
but more importantly i can’t stay here becase the changeling knows that i know. i can tell by the way it looks at me. theres just something off about it, like its telling me something, threatening me. like it knows what happened to its kind throughout history and is warning me what will happen if i even try it
in legends you can whip a changeling or stick it in a fire to make its parents come back and trade your real child back. but who would believe me today? if i even suggested doing something like that, or if i got caught trying it while my partner was running errands, i would be thrown in prison and we would have no chance of ever getting our baby back
but i have to at least try. i’m taking the changeling and going as far away as possible. i’ll find some place in the woods and hang it and start beating it. i’ll drown it somewhere. someplace out of the way where no one will interrupt
im shaking so much as i write this, im sitting in the car but i know i can’t take the car because it’ll tip people off. the changeling already knows something is up, i don’t know what itll do, what it can do. i don’t know what it really is
i dont want to do this but theres no other way, someone has to or our baby will never come home. this is the only chance anyone will get
when my partner is asleep i’ll take the changeling and run, as fast and far as i can. ill do whatever i have to do to make the changeling confess, or call its mother, or whatever happens. ill make its mother return my real baby.
even if it doesn’t work it’s better for everyone that i get rid of the changeling. i would rather die than keep living in this horror, and id rather die than come home empty-handed
whatever happens, i did what i had to. i just wanted anyone to know
——
It’s not a hundred percent certain whether this is actually his throwaway account, but it seems likely given the rest of his post history and his wife saying he was increasingly agitated and paranoid in the last few days before he disappeared. Here’s part of one of her Facebook posts from a few weeks ago:
XXX IS STILL MISSING!!!!! Please don’t let the search lose momentum!!!
People have been asking about how XXX was behaving before he disappeared because that might give some clues to where he might have gone. He’s just been struggling lately, we had made an appointment for him to see a psychiatrist and I think that may be why he disappeared so suddenly, maybe he was afraid he would be institutionalized—I really don’t know, and I don’t care, I just want him to come home safe. We were talking about seeing a psych for a couple of weeks because I think the pressure of being a father was getting to be too much for him, he had a lot of anxiety about our baby being switched at the hospital because BB doesn’t look very much like either of us, but that’s just genetics. (Yes, the paternity tests say he is the father!!) He’s been acting odd lately, like playing with eggshells to “make BB laugh.” But then when BB laughed it only seemed to mess XXX up even more…He hasn’t been sleeping, he just stays up all night to watch BB on the baby monitor. During the day he’s always reading something on his phone and won’t tell me what it is, and he deletes his browsing history. He’s been very high strung and paranoid about the baby and about everyone else, always looking around like he’s being watched…He seemed scared of something but he wouldn’t talk to me, that’s why I tried so hard to get him to agree to see a psych.
I know that some people are going to call XXX crazy or make wild accusations like he’s cheating on me or thinks that I cheated on him, but he just needs help. There’s something happening to him and he needs to go to the hospital. I have no idea where he would have gone! He just disappeared in the middle of the night and didn’t take anything with him, no notes, nothing! Please keep looking for him!! I just want him to be safe and get the help he needs.
—
In any case, he never took the baby like the throwaway suggested, just left on his own. And for what it’s worth, he never hurt the baby (at least, according to his wife). I’ve seen the baby a few times myself over these last few weeks, and he looks happy and healthy to me, even if a little on the small side. He laughs a lot too, despite the circumstances.
If anyone has any ideas on where to find this missing person, please call the police at (XXX)XXX-XXXX. Thank you! |
What do stories mean to you? For me, they are a refuge from the relentless grip of reality, a portal into the infinite universes that dwell within the human imagination. Even here, in this peculiar corner of the internet, where all kinds of horrifying tales find their home, I've found solace—a place where my narrative, too strange for the mundane world, can find its voice.
As I slipped into my shoes, the ominous rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, heralding the imminent arrival of rain. Rainy days had always held a peculiar charm for me, a melancholic beauty that beckoned me outdoors.
With a contented sigh, I reached for my umbrella and embarked on my journey to the library, a sanctuary of solitude amidst a world of social perplexity. I had long struggled to decipher the enigma of human interaction.
The repeated mantra of “Humans are social animals” had been drilled into me by well-meaning parents, but my disposition remained steadfast. I was content to be an observer, a silent witness to the intricacies of human behavior, finding fascination in the chaos of life's theater.
Books were the epitome of my mindset. All you had to do was read the story unravelling before you. A perfectly organized set of actions and consequences. Yet, as of late, the thrill had waned. No matter the genre, the tales had grown predictable, like old friends recounting the same stories over and over. I'd devoured thousands of narratives, traversing realms from the tenderest romances to the darkest horrors, seeking that elusive spark.
As I entered the library, a familiar hush descended, like a warm, welcoming embrace. The soft rustle of pages turning and the gentle creak of polished wood painted a tranquil symphony. There weren’t a lot of people here today, which made me somewhat happy.
As I walked down the aisles, I heard a voice from my right. “Hey!”
Turning to the source, I met the librarian's warm gaze. “Hello, nice to see you again.”
She smiled at me. “I’m assuming you’ve already finished the previous books I saw you reading the other week, right?”
Somewhat embarrassed, I replied. “That’s right, could you give me a recommendation?”
She looked at me speechless, smile widening. Unable to handle the awkwardness I asked. “Is something wrong?”
She shook her head. “No, it’s just that, you’ve been coming here for months now and this is the first time you’ve asked for a recommendation. Do you have anything particular in mind?”
I pondered for a moment. “Actually, surprise me. Give me a book about whatever you feel like.”
Her eyes somewhat lit up with delight. “Sure! In that case, I’ll get you one from the new batch we got.” Having said that, she disappeared into the neighboring isles. Moments later, she returned, cradling a book in her hands, a hint of mystery in her expression.
“I picked this one at random just like you’ve asked! I’m right here if you need anything.”
With the book in hand, I found a cozy corner and settled into an overstuffed chair. The book boasted a cover made of black leather, sleek and polished. The title, “***Ripples of Choice***,” was embossed on the front cover in a stark, almost blindingly white hue. The letters themselves were bold and commanding, seemingly etched with precision.
As I opened the book, my gaze shifted to the preface section. ***“This book would not exist were it not for you, devoted reader. If you seek the long-lost thrill of a good story, why not create one yourself? Try writing and see where it takes you.”***
I was confused. I continued to flip through the pages only to discover they were all empty. “Is this some kind of joke?” I thought to myself. I glanced around me, but the library remained deserted, a silent witness to my growing unease.
As I looked through the book a second time, there was no author nor date of publication, nothing that hinted at its origins. Or so I thought, there was a publisher that read ***“Scriver”***.
I had never heard of that publisher, so I contemplated returning the seemingly empty book. As I walked toward the librarian, a sense of uneasiness gripped me, like I was on the verge of missing something crucial. Surely it wouldn’t hurt to write one sentence. I could always claim that's all the book contained in the first place.
It was then I saw from the corner of my eye an unusual sight. A man was arguing with the librarian, stirring up the whole library with the noise. I had seen that man before. He was a junkie, spending most of his day picking fights for money. A real piece of shit I must say. I had no intention of intervening, not with his foul stench and reputation.
All of a sudden, an irresistible urge washed over me, as if an invisible hand compelled me to write in that enigmatic book. I pulled out a pen from my pocket and scribbled: “As the librarian and the man were arguing, suddenly, a sniper riffle fired at the man’s head, killing him instantly.” I couldn't help but let out a nervous snicker, what the fuck was I even doing? I still had some books left at home, so I decided to come back tomorrow.
However, I still had to return the book, as I had no idea which section to leave it. As I cautiously approached the front desk, the argument between the librarian and the unruly man showed no signs of abating. Their voices clashed like thunderheads in a storm, drowning out all other sounds within the library's hallowed silence. My heart raced as I debated whether to intervene.
Summoning all my courage, I uttered a barely audible, "Umm, excuse me."
The man, his face contorted with anger, abruptly swiveled to face me. His eyes bore into mine with an intensity that sent a shiver down my spine. “And what do you want, huh?!” he practically screamed, his words reverberating through the library, the air heavy with tension.
As I opened my mouth to respond, the library was suddenly pierced by a deafening gunshot. Time seemed to slow as I watched in horror. The man's body contorted, and he crumpled to the side, his eyes wide with shock. A crimson pool formed beneath his lifeless form, staining the polished library floor.
The librarian's scream cut through the air like a knife, echoing my own inner turmoil. Without thinking, I turned and fled from the scene, leaving my umbrella behind as I burst out into the pouring rain. The cold drops soaked through my clothes, chilling me to the bone as I sprinted towards the sanctuary of my home.
Inside, I slammed the door shut and locked it with trembling hands. Leaning against the wood, I was a shivering wreck, gasping for breath as adrenaline coursed through my veins. My heart hammered against my ribs, threatening to burst.
I clutched my stomach, the nausea rising within me. “What the hell was that?!” I screamed, the words a desperate plea for answers in a world suddenly turned upside down.
Did that book really just turn my words into reality? Panic surged through me like a tidal wave as I fumbled to retrieve the ominous tome from my bag. With trembling hands, I pulled it out and stared at its pages in disbelief.
The text had multiplied, spreading like a creeping darkness, recording not only my past actions but also the thoughts swirling in my mind, as if the book itself had become a narrator.
The final sentence sent a chill down my spine: ***“The audience was satisfied with the conclusion of the first act.”*** My breath caught in my throat. An audience? I glanced around, but there was no one in sight. I was alone, trapped in a nightmare of my own making.
I looked at the book again. ***“Noticing the author’s confusion, Scriver decided to offer his assistance. With an elegant, gloved hand, he gestured toward the balcony.”***
Summoning every ounce of courage, I hesitantly stepped outside. The relentless rain had ceased, leaving a haunting silence in its wake. The sky above, devoid of clouds, held a nightmarish sight.
Hundreds of colossal, unblinking eyes stared down at me, their unrelenting gaze piercing through my very soul.
|
Well, it has been a few years since I lost my wife to an insidious disease. I used to hate hearing that, but with time and maturity I came to realize that it is true: the people we do not see anymore still live in our hearts. Therefore, not long ago, after coming to terms with such a terrible loss, I had re-established one of our favorite traditions. Last week Sunday, at around two in the morning and equipped with a tasty red wine and a few grapes, I hopped in my boat, precisely a recreational motorboat with an outdoor motor.
"Jerry, please don't forget the blankets!" She used to remind so that we do not freeze outside.
Just like we used to do together, I 'drove' the boat and stopped it far enough from the coast, lit up a lantern and started feasting on the grapes along with the wine. As I was also scrolling on my phone for pictures of her and pictures of us, so many memories flooded my mind, filling me with joy instead of sadness. At some point, I seemed to feel her presence. Strangely, this is exactly when I noticed it. Further away from the coast, something dark, stood firmly on deeper waters of the sea.
Struck with amazement and questions, I started the engine and drove up to the strange thing, its outlines and texture getting more clear despite the dark as I got closer, until I realized that it was a small, dark wooden cabin. I stopped the boat some good meters away from it to contemplate that curiosity. How did it stand firmly on the water without moving by an inch is beyond my intelligence. I am not a social media person at all, but that was the kind of things that needed to be seen by millions of people. Amused by the idea, I smiled and tried to take a picture of it first, but my excitement vanished from my heart and face, when I noticed that the cabin was not visible on the camera. This was much more serious than I thought.
Its only window then opened, revealing a young, pale woman of outstanding beauty with dark hair, and an apparently dark dress, gesturing me to approach without saying a word. I asked if she needed any help, but she kept quiet, only gesturing me to approach with an empty expression on her face. When I told her that I was about to go back to the coast instead, her neutral expression gave way to that of anger as her irises shone in a glowing yellow.
While looking around in disbelief and starting the engine, preparing to disappear from there, I heard a splashing noise and realized that she was no longer at her window. In fact, the whole cabin had vanished. I then saw something moving fast in the water and approaching the boat at full velocity. I sped off to save my life, and on the way to a safer zone, I felt two or three bumps under the boat, fortunately without consequences, until I safely reached the coast.
Later in the afternoon, when I came to check on my boat, I noticed deep scratching marks under it that seemed to be caused by an unnaturally strong human hand. A clear reason and warning to never again wonder late at night on the sea. |
**September 13**
Yesterday my hair fell out. I was in my room drawing at my desk and a clump of it landed on my paper. It took me a second to realize what it was. I rubbed my head to check and a whole bunch more came off. It's like it wasn't even attached to my head, it just slid right off. I started rubbing my head like crazy, I couldn't help it. Then I was completely bald. I looked down at my bedroom carpet covered in hair. I was so confused. I picked up the clumps and went to the bathroom to throw them in the trash. When I saw my reflection I started to get scared and even started to cry. I ran downstairs to tell my mom.
I called to her from across the house. She said she was in the kitchen. When I saw her she looked at me but she didn't say anything. She just stopped cooking and stared at me and then looked back at the stove.
'Mom look at my hair... all my hair just fell out of my head!"
"Hmm? Oh. Oh no dear that's too bad"
After I told her she kept cooking. I told her that I thought I looked stupid with all my hair gone. I told her I looked like a grandpa now and asked if something was wrong with me. She smiled at me and said everything would be fine.
**September 14**
Today I was excited because my Dad was coming home. He has a super important job and sometimes leaves on trips. All day I was waiting for him to get home. I went outside to play in the yard so I could see him when he got back. The bad thing was when I was playing my hands really started hurting like really bad. When I looked at them a bunch of my finger nails were gone. I wasn't even playing that hard. Still, when my dad got home I was so excited.
I started running to give him a big hug, but when he saw me he turned and went into the house really quick. I said I was happy to see him but he didn't really seem that happy to see me. He just said 'Oh, yes, I'm happy to see you too.' and then closed the door.
My hands were very sore. My big sister gave me some bandages for them but they didn't really help. All of us were going to have dinner together for the first time in weeks. Mom made mashed potatoes and meatloaf, my favorite. Unfortunately I couldn't eat that much because after a couple of bites my teeth fell out.
For some reason losing my teeth didn't hurt at all. I asked my mom if the tooth fairy was really going to pay me for each tooth. She said she would. I heard mom and dad arguing but my big sister yelled at them both and then they stopped. My big sister isn't young like me, she's a grown up like mom and dad. After she yelled at them it was really quiet for the rest of the night.
**September 15**
When I woke up my teeth were still under my pillow. I think the fairy must be running late. Mom and dad were going up and down the stairs with boxes in their arms. When I finally went downstairs I called out to my mom but there was no answer. There was no one in the kitchen or the living room either. Then I heard the basement door slam. It was my big sister. She looked at me and then she started crying. She came up to me really close and put her hands on my cheeks. She said that her and mom and dad were going on a trip, like the ones Dad takes. The whole time she was crying. She looked like she wanted to give me a hug but for some reason she changed her mind.
I watched from the porch as my big sister got into our van. I waved at my mom and dad in the front seat but they just stared at me. They didn't even smile. I don't know what I did wrong. They didn't tell me when they would be back but I hope it's soon. I'm only ten, I didn't even know kids could stay home alone without parents.
**September 18**
I think they left three days ago now. There is no one else around so I'm starting to get kind of lonely, plus I get scared at night. Yesterday I thought I saw a man staring at me from the fields, but I realized it was just a tree. I'm bored of all my games and toys. I just want my family to come back.
**September 19**
For some reason I don't get hungry anymore. I guess that's good because I don't even have teeth. I haven't eaten since they left.
**September 20**
I think something bad is happening. My skin is really dry like sand and bleeds when I scratch it. For some reason it doesn't hurt though.
**September 21**
I have big lumps all over my body. It's really weird. I'm starting to get scared. I think something is wrong. I need my family to come back soon.
**September 22**
This morning when I was walking into the kitchen I hurt my leg. It just sort of folded over like a pretzel when I was walking. I think it's broken, it doesn't move right anymore. I have to use the broom handle to help me walk around. Something bad is definitely happening.
I remember when I was really little I found a frog on its belly. It wasn't moving and it's leg was missing. I asked Dad what was wrong with it. He said nothing, it was just sleeping. He said the frog was going to be fine, but for some reason I think he was lying. I think what happened to that frog is going to happen to me. I don't think it's gonna be fine.
**September 24**
My eyeball fell out last night. Thankfully I was able to put it back in. I've just been sitting in the kitchen watching the rain. I think I'm going to look in the cellar. My family always said it was off limits, but it doesn't matter, I don't think they're coming back.
I'm in the basement. It's really strange down here. There's a lot of cool looking stuff but I don't know what any of it's for. My family spent so many hours down here. I wonder why? There's a computer with a picture of my family and some other people. They're all wearing strange white coats, I've never seen these people before. They look so happy together. I was really surprised when I saw the document on the desktop with my name on it. I'll see what it is but then I'll take a nap cause I'm getting kind of sleepy now and my eyes aren't working so good.
**For Devin:**
Devin, I'm sorry. I didn't want to leave you. Some part of me hopes that you find this message before... I hope it hasn't been too bad for you. One of the primary side effects in the onset is loss of sensation. There is some solace in that... Devin I want to you to know that you are special, oh so very special. You will always be my little brother, but to me you are more like a son. I will always love you for what you represent to me.
You Devin, are the pinnacle of scientific progress. The culmination of the greatest minds of man. The final fruits in the pursuit of discovery. Of course there have been other Devin's before you; Devins, Dollys, Craigs... but *you* my little brother are the first to have really lived! I can't describe the elation when you made it past four years. It was a miracle. Part of me told myself that you would be the one that survived.
I imagined who you would be as you grew older into a man and the things you would accomplish. The realist in me always knew that was folly. Eventually you would fail, and fall apart like the rest of them... it was the cruel inevitability of reality. They may say I'm a monster for what I have done, but it was ALWAYS for the betterment of mankind.
You, my special Devin are a clone! I know that you don't know what that means, we have sheltered you greatly. Pinky promise me you won't look for it in your dictionary... all it means is you are something truly exceptional!
If you do end up reading this Devin I want you to do something for me please. The others disagree but I no longer care for their opinion. I want the world to know... In spite of our failings we have wrought the fire from Prometheus hands and created something truly marvelous!
*p.s. I've drawn a picture with instructions explaining how to do what I need you to do.*
*p.p.s. Once you've uploaded your diary and this letter, take a rest Devin. You shouldn't have too much time left anyways...*
***Love you always,***
**'Big Sister'** |
It was late at night when this all happened. I was walking home after I had just dropped my girl off at her house after we had just finished our date. I’m a fourteen year old boy, in case you were wondering, living in a small town in the middle of Montana. It was a relatively quiet place. Sure it was peaceful, but it was really boring. Nothing really happened here. But then, out of the blue, this new girl moved to town. Her name was Britney and she was a short, black haired girl with red rosy cheeks, and amazing amber eyes. She was the most beautiful person I had ever seen. I had to talk to her. I was really a shy kid, especially when it came to pretty girls. But when I saw Britney for the first time, it was different for some reason. I wanted to talk to her so badly. One day I worked up the courage to talk to her. My heart was pounding in my chest, but I pushed myself not to back down. I opened up with a small joke, hoping to get her to laugh. I was nervous as hell and it was a really stupid joke. But I guess it was funny to her because she laughed at it, or she was being nice and just trying to humor me. But whatever the case, it worked! After that we started talking more. We were getting along really well for a while and had even started to hangout after school for a couple weeks now. I really liked this girl and I finally worked up the courage to ask her out on a date. I was so excited when she said yes. We settled on going to the movies for our first date that Saturday. I couldn’t stop thinking about it all week. I was so nervous, and so excited.
The night of the date came around and everything was going great. We sat down in the theater, eating popcorn and watched the film. She even rested her head on my shoulder. I was in heaven at that moment and couldn’t be happier. After the movie was over, we exited the theater to see that it was late in the night. She said she was going to call her parents to come pick her up, but I offered to walk her home, you know to be a gentleman and to earn a few extra brownie points. I also wanted to spend more time with her. She happily agreed. The movie theater wasn’t that far from her house and neither was mine, so it was an easy walk for the both of us. We continued to talk all the way to her house and I was liking this girl more and more. I honestly couldn’t believe that this amazing girl was interested in me at all. She liked almost everything I was into and was a member of the soccer team. Soccer wasn’t my favorite sport, but I think I have a reason to get into it now.
We were now walking up the steps to her front porch and just stood in front of her door. I wanted to say something more but I couldn’t find the words and just stood there awkwardly. She thanked me for a great time and was about to open her door when I finally spoke up.
“Would you like to go out again sometime?” I asked nervously. I don’t know why I was so nervous. Maybe it was just because this girl was so amazing and that she wouldn’t want to hang out again. But she smiled at me and giggled.
“I would love to.” She then stepped closer to me and kissed me on the lips. I was frozen where I stood. Of all the things to happen, this was the last thing I expected. I must have looked ridiculous because as soon as she pulled away she giggled again. It was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. She opened the door and wished me goodnight before disappearing behind it. All I could think about was that kiss. After what felt like forever, I finally walked down the stairs with the biggest grin on my face and began walking home. My house was only a few blocks away, but all I could think about was Britney. The sound of her laughter whenever I made a stupid joke. The look in her amber eyes when I asked her out again. I will never forget that. I was honestly very happy then.
But as I turned around the corner I began to notice something; it was very quiet. More quiet than any other night. There were no birds, no crickets, not even the sound of cars driving on the roads. I looked around and noticed that all the houses were dark. Which was odd because it was still relatively early, too early for everyone to be fast asleep. I was startled when the street light I was standing under began to flicker. For as long as I can remember, that never happened before. I tried to ignore it and continued walking towards my house. But it happened again when I walked under another streetlight. Then another. Then another.
I tried to tell myself that it was just faulty wiring, or some short circuit. But then, all the lights went out at once. Now it was pitch black. Not even the moon was shining in the sky. My heart was pounding in my chest as I stood alone in complete darkness. I took out my phone to get some light, but when I tried to turn it on it didn’t work. The battery must have died during the movie. My house was only a straight shot from here but I didn’t want to move for fear of tipping and hurting myself or something. Then suddenly, a light shined from behind me. I quickly turned around to see that one of the streetlights from behind me had turned back on. It was about three streetlights away from me, but it was dimly lit. But I was just happy to have some light again. However, when I turned around to head back down the street, I heard something from behind. It was footsteps, but not my footsteps. I turned back around but didn’t see anyone there. Nothing but that streetlight. I kept my eyes towards the light but I still couldn’t see anyone. I was about to turned back around when I finally saw something. A tall, black hooded figure had just stepped into the light. My blood turned to ice when I saw him. His hood was over his head so I couldn’t see his face. I wanted to turn away but I couldn’t move. I wanted to shout but I couldn’t speak. I was petrified.
He was just standing there under the light. There was no possible way that he could see me in the darkness, but I could feel his eyes directly on me. Every fiber of my body was telling me to run, to get back home where it’s safe, but I still couldn’t move. All I could do was stare back at him. My heart was beating faster and harder in my ears with every moment that passed. But still, he did not move.
Then suddenly, he took off, sprinting towards me. I was finally able to gain control of my body and took off towards my house. I ran as fast as my legs could carry me as I could hear the sound of his feet right behind me. I looked back towards him and saw that he was even closer now. And he looked even taller. I wanted to scream but my voice was still lost. All I could do was run. I didn’t know how far my house was but I didn’t care, I just kept running. I looked back once again. This time he was even closer, and taller. His body was skinny and his arms were long, but I could see nothing else from him. I pushed myself harder and sprinted the other way. My lungs and legs were on fire but I refused to stop. I pushed onward until I finally noticed something. A small candle in the windowsill of my house. My mother always placed a candle there whenever I was out at night so I could find my way home.in case the power ever went out. I couldn’t tell you how much I loved my mother at that moment. I was almost home. I took one final look behind me, and I wished I didn’t. The man was much closer to me, but he wasn’t a man anymore. Whatever it was, it was much taller, taller than any man I had ever seen. Its arms were flailing as it ran towards me. But what I noticed more were its fingers. They were long and came to a point, looking more like claws.
I finally found my voice and Let out a loud scream. I was in my front yard now and practically jumped over the stairs and opened the door. Fortunately my mother has a terrible habit of not locking the door behind her when she was out. She said it was in case I ever forgot my keys. I would always tell her about how unsafe it was. But I couldn’t be more grateful in that moment as I pushed the door open and slammed it shut behind me. I locked the door and pressed my back to it. I instinctively flipped the switch on and was welcomed by the warm light of my house. Finally feeling safe, I moved to the window to see if that creature was still out there. But what I saw were the lights from the streets. Even a few houses had their lights on. I looked around my living room, wondering what the hell just happened. Was it all just a hallucination? But from what? Maybe it was all just some sort of prank. A really good one too. I then felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I took it out to see it was a text message from my mother.
**Had to step out for a bit. I’ll be**
**back soon . There’s some pizza**
**in the oven for you. I’ll see you**
**when I get home.**
**Love you, Mom**
I was so confused. My phone wasn’t working a minute ago. But now here I was getting a text message from my mother. I was still out of breath from that whole ordeal. But I was home now and safe. I texted my mother to let her know that I was home now, but I didn't tell her anything else. How could i? I didn't believe it all myself. I tried to put the whole thing out of my mind as I went into the kitchen and grabbed myself a couple slices of pizza. After heating it in the microwave, I went upstairs into my room and turned on the T.V. After what had just happened, I was in the mood for a nice calm movie. I put on my old favorite movie, and ate my pizza in peace.
When the movie was almost over, I heard my phone go off again. It was another text message from my mom.
**Hey, honey, could you give me a hand**
**downstairs?**
I turned off the T.V. and headed downstairs. I called my mom’s name but she never answered. I looked around the house but she wasn’t there.
That’s weird, I thought to myself. She just texted me a minute ago. Suddenly the lights went out, causing me to scream. It was pitch black now. I tried to find my way around the house. As my eyes began to adjust I noticed a small light. It was my mother’s candle. But it wasn’t in the windowsill, it was in the kitchen. I slowly made my way towards the candle, the memories of tonight’s event flooding my memory. My heart was pounding fast with every step. I jumped when I felt my phone in my hand vibrate. It was another text message from my mom.
**Sorry, honey, I’m going to be home a little**
**late. Don’t be up too late, dear.**
**Love you, Mom.**
I stare at my phone in disbelief. I was about to ask her why she told me to come downstairs when she wasn’t even home. But then I noticed something. The text message that she sent me wasn’t there. But that was impossible. I didn’t delete the message. I then received another text message. It was from Britney.
**I had a lot of fun tonight. You did a lot better**
**than the others. But I am sorry to say that**
**this is goodbye**.
I was dumbfounded. Did she just break up with me? I sent her a text message asking what she meant. When I hit send, that’s when I noticed it. Just above her message to me was the text from mom, asking me to come down. My body froze when I heard the chime of a phone from behind me. But I dared not look. All I could do was stare at the lit candle in front of me when I felt four long claws slowly grip my shoulder. I turned my head to see wide amber eyes. |
If I were to tell you I’m a big fan of tea, I’m sure you’d have a very specific image of me. And I wouldn’t blame you, the vast majority of the time if the first thing someone tells you about themselves is tea related, they are going to be a little, too, into tea.
Me though, I don’t know, I’m not a “tea guy”, I just prefer the atmosphere of a tea house to a coffee shop. And for reasons I don’t really want to discuss, I spend a lot of my time in places made for quick meals.
Rick, by the way.
Another city, another sunset behind another small town skyline, another bad taste in my mouth from another job. The monotony only broken up by stops like this.
The place has character, especially for Who-Gives-A-Shit Michigan. Tasteful rose paint and dark oak trim makes the tea house look like a rustic cottage. The windows are tinted and the interior, warmly lit.
I find myself a booth, and take a seat on an overstuffed leather cushion. The table is immaculate, and the smell of fresh baked goods is thick enough it drowns out the lingering scent of gasoline and smoke from my nostrils.
I predict beautiful tea and ugly prices, and when I’m brought a menu, I’m not disappointed. The waitress seemed to linger for a moment, expectant. I assume the place has a small circle of regulars, and pay it no mind.
If I was a “Tea guy” I’d bore the hell out of you with a rant about the selection. But thankfully for you folks, I’m not the type to overshare. Bad for business.
For those of you in the know though, just a beautiful selection of northern England’s finest, with a few blends I’ve never heard of from Holland.
I decide to throw caution to the wind and order one of the Dutch blends with the vowel ridden names, and a watercress sandwich.
Coffee is black sludge to keep you going, tea is an experience. The dark, fragrant blend I’m brought brings to mind memories of early childhood mornings. Funny how smell works.
I take my time, the brews and baked goods clearing my mind, letting me relax and focus on the next leg of my journey.
But as caffeine tends to do, eventually nature called.
The bathroom would have been at home in any grandmother’s house. Soft pastel colors, clean white porcelain, and limitless knick knacks, sprays, and magazines.
I turn off the polished brass faucet, and turn to leave, I know something is wrong the second my hand touches the knob. No give at all, my suspicions are confirmed as I try to turn it, it doesn’t move a centimeter.
I chuckle, I can’t think of the last time a door was much of an issue for me.
The knob wasn’t any model I’ve seen before, and the more I look the more I don’t like what I see.
“Fuck me” I mumble, looking for a set of hinges. I find none.
I slam on the door, screaming, as obvious as the situation is becoming it makes no sense.
After fifteen minutes of kicking and screaming that should have alerted every hipster and old lady in the place, there isn’t so much a knock from the other side of the door.
“Soundproof, awesome. “ I say, inspecting the lavatory.
Air duct, under a decorative cover is grated, the grate welded to a plate in the ceiling. Any object of size is cleverly affixed to the floor with hidden bolts or welds, the small lamps are hardwired into the wall, which is industrial cement under it’s flower printed wallpaper.
This place was made to keep people.
What, is obvious, why is immediately eating away at me.
There are dozens of reasons someone may want me to be in this kind of a situation. But this place wasn’t just made, and even if it was, no one is going to build a covert prison cell, on the off chance I wandered in. That’s comic book shit. They’d send some tweaker with a pawn shop pistol.
The prospect that this is just something I stumbled into, doesn’t provide me much comfort. I’ve been around the block a few times, but something like this, it’s well out of my wheelhouse.
After a couple of hours I notice the silence, the pure, uncanny lack of noise. The place was nearly full when I came in, tea house or no, I should be hearing the sounds of commerce outside.
If you are reading this, you’re likely the kind of person that doesn’t have to ditch your phone much, and probably asking why I wasn’t calling 911. Unfortunately my life has lead me down a different path, and I find myself unfortunately between phones. Thankfully I’ve always been partial to a wristwatch, so I at least can mark the passage of time.
I assume I’m being recorded, and spend the first twenty four hours talking to whoever may be listening. Dropping names, making offers, anything I can do to get some kind of response.
Nothing.
Fear and panic begin to set in on the second day, hunger starts to tear at my stomach, and a sense of powerlessness and isolation sets in.
By day three my body is cramped and aching, my sleep coming on a hard cement floor disguised as tile. My brain is fogged from lack of food and proper rest, my mouth tastes of the gritty tap water, and I realise, no one is going to be looking for me.
Had this been before a job, I could be guaranteed the client would come searching, looking to take their payment out of my ass. And with the types of folks that employ me, it’d likely have been within hours.
But as is, a private person such as myself, has no deus ex machina on it’s way.
Day three teaches me something about mints.
The stale, clumped bowl sat on a small shelf at the bottom of the over-the-john cabinet. A thin layer of dust coated them, making me assume they were some form of decorative soap, instead of ancient, likely turned pastel mints.
I was desperate enough to eat them, figuring any calories would be better than none.
Friends of mine in prison could have told me this was a bad idea. Toothpaste ulcers are a known thing. See, mint, especially cheap menthol based flavoring on an empty, let alone malnourished stomach is just about the worst thing you can do.
I enter day four puking blood and yellow bile.
I wipe my mouth and stop dead on my trip to the low pressure faucet to wash out my mouth.
Those mints, the same ones that had burned through the remnants of my stomach lining, undisturbed layer of dust and all, were back.
This was impossible, at no point was I asleep, or anywhere more than a foot or two away from the bowl.
I close my eyes, shake my head and wash out my mouth, putting this bit of information on the back burner for now.
Day 4, as I feel my tartar coated teeth start to ache, I realise I need to make a plan. I start this by going over every inch of the bathroom again, trying to find any flaw, or object I can use to make an escape. I keep my focus thinking of the long conversation I’m going to have with whoever put me in this shitty saw knock off.
I peel back every bit of wallpaper I can, I rummage through every cabinet, I claw and pry every surface where it is even a remote possibility.
By the time I nearly collapse, my rapidly thinning form soaked in sweat, I’ve found something. But the objects in question just confuse me further.
A 1930’s style straight razor, yellowed pearl handle, a magazine from around the same time written in a Cyrillic language I can’t even begin to guess at, a rusted old fountain pen, And a worn leather bound journal.
What made these things stand out were small numbers, hidden on each. The razor, had a 1 etched into the back end of the blade, hidden by the handle, the magazine was issue #2, the fountain pen had a year embossed on it’s oxidized surface, the only legible number being 3, and within a swirling, looping pattern burned into the leather of the journal, a 4 could be made out.
My mind quickly concocts a scenario, some idiot obsessed with escape rooms maybe, I’m sure there is some obtuse way I’m intended to use these things to get myself out.
That being said, I’m not the guy you want to piss off and give a razor to. At first I latch onto this vicious truth as a torch against the dismal fatality of my situation, but then I begin to think about the mints.
Someone had to replace them, that means someone has to come in. I turn the blade in my hand, fear and anger turning my brain into a derailed train of revenge and uncertainty.
I dump the mints into the toilet and flush, their long since expired colors running the instant they touch the water, blending together and turning it an unhealthy brown. A few hours later I feign sleep, my breathing low and shallow, waiting to hear that first footstep.
I’m hurting, no where near full strength, but I almost pity whatever unlucky bastard walks through that door.
I don’t hear the click of the doorknob, or the first footstep, but I feel a cold gust of air blow into the bathroom. It’s strangely stale and dry.
But I’m up in a flash, malnourished muscles screaming in protest, threatening to pull and cramp.
He’s a big guy, 230 at least, short, but with a workers build to him. He’s standing between the door and the bathroom counter, I’d prefer to just run, but there is no way I’m getting out there without going through him.
His brown suit is old, and his long greying hair is greasy and matted, , I grin as I grab his shoulder and spin him toward me.
I slam the man up against the cement wall, a death grip on his oily feeling suit, the razor is under his chin, but as I see his face I freeze.
It's a twisted, sunken, fun house mirror mockery of the human form. A leering, joweled, pig eyed abomination. It stares at me, the hatred in those tiny orbs chills me to the bone.
But I’ve been scared before, this guy can be a sideshow freak all he wants, he’s still going to bleed.
I swipe the razor in an arc that should have left him clutching his ruined neck on the tile floor, but the blade passes through the man’s body as if it were made of smoke.
The laugh, it sounded like a chorus of dying rabbits, like human screams drawn from memory.
I’m tossed like a toy into the far wall, I see out the door for the first time in days, and what is out there, it isn’t the tea room, it looks more like a bedroom.
The thing looms at the far end of the tiny room, with every passing second shadows deepen, the air seems to take on a weight, and this creature, this ghost like thing seems taller, more imposing.
My heart is pumping too fast, I begin to see black spots along the edge of my vision, my nutrient devoid blood doing it’s best to keep me going.
It's rictus grin stretches, the spectre retrieves the razor from the floor, looking longingly at it.
I try to push past the fear, get to my feet, maybe make a run to the door, but there is a burst of pain in my chest, broken ribs, for sure. The pain and shock makes me fall flat on my face, I try desperately to get up but I can’t manage to do it.
I feel grateful as the darkness overtakes my vision knowing whatever this man, or thing, has planned for me, it’s better I don’t see it coming.
I wake up to a headache brought on by hunger and dehydration, the bathroom is immaculate again, but the lights are lower, and there is a weight, a palpable sense of wrong in the air.
Then I hear it
“I can’t… “ it’s a thin voice, female, young, she says more but no matter how hard I listen to the sourceless voice “I can’t” is all I can make out.
It repeats at erratic intervals, seeming to come from random points in the room.
I drink, but the tepid water sits like a rock in my stomach, and as I watch the thin trickle in the dim light, I notice it’s color is off, slightly rust tinted.
I attempt to use the toilet, and find it no longer flushes. My grin laugh seems to echo in the tiny chamber.
I have a hard time accepting something I’m sure you guys understood a few minutes ago. I try any way I can to convince myself this is all smoke and mirrors, but the weight of being in the middle of some kind of supernatural cluster fuck smothers me.
I search the bathroom again, everything seems to be a little more worn, but everything seems the same, with the exception of the razor being missing.
I hear a scratching inside of the sink cabinet, small and quick, like something wants to get out.
I gag, hot, acidic bile fills my mouth, as I try and wash it out, I see a small black, almost insect like claw protruding from the faucet. It bends upwards, tapping along the brass, extending itself about six inches before retracting inward.
I decide I’d rather taste puke.
I know I can’t have much time left, every movement sends bolts of pain through me, and if I don’t get these ribs patched up there is a real chance of a punctured lung. Not to mention the fact that I’m going on nearly a week without food.
If this is all random chaos, I’m screwed either way, but I try to press on with the only clue I have.
I begin to flip through the magazine, trying to find any scrap of text I can read, I’d done this a dozen times already the day before, but I need something to keep my mind off the horrors that seem to be waiting just beyond every crevice and shadow in this place.
Then I see it, something that wasn’t there yesterday, an article in plain english ‘ Poltergeist and sacrifice’ by a woman named Laura Set.
“… Poltergeist activity is often misconstrued as being caused by a particularly vengeful or evil spirit.
While there are some similarities to a haunting, Poltergeist activity has a differing source, and therefore a different method of appeasement.
Most often a Poltergeist manifestation is caused, not by an individual spirit, but by the combined spiritual weight of an event. A true case of the total being greater than the sum of it’s parts.
The negative energy, individual souls, and history of the location, through as of yet unknown means, combine to create something more akin to a minor God than a powerful spirit.
And as such, traditional methods of removal such as those offered by various religious and mystic organizations are ineffective.
The only true way to keep manifestation at bay, is via a complicated form of sacrifice, often recreating key parts of the event that triggered the manifestation.
Sacrifices can run the gamut from trivial to lethal, but as seen, repercussions of an unchecked manifestation will seldom not be worth the cost… ”
There was more to the article, but as I finished it, the lights began to flicker and dim, and the magazine began to crumble in my hands.
“I can’t eat… “ I hear the voice clearer now, I still can’t make out all of what she is saying, but she sounds, closer.
The room is no longer silent, the scratching and tapping from the sink is more rapid, more purposeful, I can hear faint music outside of the room, an old phonograph I think. The hellish orange strobe of the lights turns shadows into looming creatures.
I can’t tell what’s starvation induced hallucination and what’s some kind of force I’ll never understand. I’m rattled, and unhinged, I scream at the girl to shut up, but of course she doesn’t listen.
I think about praying, but me and the guy upstairs haven’t been on good terms in a long time. I see movement on the ceiling, I feel the humidity rise , and get the sense of something unstoppable starting to gain steam.
My mind wants to think of nothing but the things in the shadows, I feel something thin and rubbery caress my cheek in a moment of darkness and force myself to think about the pen.
In a eureka moment I try to jam the nib into my arm, but it passes through, mockingly. But in the flashes of orange light, I see something.
The corner of the counter is cracked and rotten now, caked with rust colored half congealed blood. Jagged splinters stick out like grasping fingers and I laugh a sick chortle as I realise what I have to do.
I slam my forearm into the serrated corner, screaming in pain, the sound an echo of my fraying sanity. The wood and steel tear a massive piece out of me, my starvation thinned flesh splitting like an overripe pear.
And for a moment, I see it. Just a flash.
A trapped little girl, an evil old man. Long before they became gears in this horror producing machine.
When I snap out of it, the room is dark, the sounds of formless things all around me, for a brief second or two one of the lights produces a dim glow before going out.
My left hand isn’t working, must have hit a tendon or nerve, I uncap the pen with my teeth, holding it under the torn limb. The blood seems to give the pen weight well beyond its few millilitres.
“I can’t eat, I need… “ the girl says, her voice seems right next to me now.
In another dim flash of a dying blub I see a twisted mass of clicking tendrils scraping my blood and flesh, greedily from the counter. I hear laughter, real, and followed with hot, reeking breath, I turn to see a leering, faceless grin, illuminated and formed out of the wall.
The room feels more claustrophobic by the second, the things I can see in the sparse, dull, orange flashes of light seem to focus on me.
Tendrils, like heavy smoke begin to wind around my leg, a hand, massive and not quite human grasps my shoulder, I feel swarmed by things I can neither fathom nor see.
I steady my breathing, and wait, I know I’ll have to write something, but what?
The dull orange glow, like a dying candle gives the barest of light. I flip through the journal, seeing nothing but blank pages. I clench the pen in my teeth hard enough to crack one of my molars.
The glow dies, and my heart sinks, but as I flip a page, I feel something. Some indent.
The hand pushes down on my shoulder as the tendrils begin pulling me toward the sink. I have no strength to fight, it’s taking everything in me to keep conscious.
I see the cavern of pitch black I’m being dragged toward as the light pulses, the glow barely able to pierce the gloom. This place has turned into a senseless hellscape, but I see it.
I can trace the outline with my hand, as if someone has pressed too hard with a pen, see the indented words and begin to trace over them with the pen.
“I’m sorry”
I have to roll over my damaged arm, tearing out a page and slipping it under the door. Something inside the limb snaps and I feel a deep pain shoot up to my elbow.
For a moment, I’m sure I guessed wrong, my foot inches from the onyx fanged Maw the sink cabinet has became.
But then then din of the hellscape switches off, I no longer feel the unholy press of whatever unnatural things were slipping from the cracks in reality.
I’m standing in a void, still, calm as death. In every direction but one, is nothing but endless nothing.
The bathroom mirror floats, fixed in space, I feel myself drawn to it, in awe of it.
I see the girl for the second time, and I am overwhelmed with sadness.
She’s a flickering, pale thing, her body is broken, the victim of the kind of violence the worst person I know wouldn’t even think about.
“ I can’t eat, I need… “ I hear, the voice is soft this time, almost sweet.
Of all the wounds on the girl, the one that stands out the most is her destroyed wreck of a mouth. I feel mad for her, despite my situation.
I hear her crying now, and the situation starts to come together. The starvation, the entrapment, the torture, they fit together like the combination to a safe.
I see the forms of dozens of people to either side of her as she closes the distance. She’s right in front of me now.
When I finally hear her clearly, it sounds, different. Like I’m hearing a recording of an event.
“I can’t eat, I need teeth. “ I hear as her dead eyes hold me in a trance.
She raises one hand, the cold, dead flesh gently resting on my cheek.
It passes through the cheek harmlessly, but as it makes contact with my teeth I feel the worst pain I have experienced. A pain so severe, as to overshadow the mind fuck itself. A pain I wake up most nights in a cold sweat about to this day.
She scoops them out like gutting a pumpkin, I can’t beg, or pull away, I can’t even scream, even as each inch of movement has me internally begging for death.
There isn’t any blood, in fact, if I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t even know I ever had teeth. But as the apparition stages at them, greedily, that’s cold comfort.
The girl walks away, and after a few paces, reality comes crashing back down around me.
I’m on my side, my arm has stopped bleeding, but the flesh looks like melted way, fused and bubbled. As the door opens, I have enough strength to stand, but I’m not sure how long it’ll last.
There’s a half dozen people outside of the door, in front of me is a well kept man in his 50’s, in what looks to be his Sunday best.
“Thank you. “ he says, handing me a comically small towel, for the amount of filth and blood I’m covered in.
I can do nothing more than glare at the group as I leave, holding onto the wall for support.
I got out of that town and went dark for a while, mostly getting used to the lifestyle changes a week or so of malnutrition and torture caused. But that brings me to why I decided to, pun intended, spill the tea here.
I’ve got a question.
Do I keep myself hidden? Take this as a win, and never look back? Or, do I maybe try and get a little, non divine retribution?
Don’t know how possible that would be, but I guess that’s where you all come in. Let me know what you think. |
So this takes back to the spring of 2017 or 2018, I never really slept as much back then, I always had full on energy all the time. For example I will stay up untill midnight and fall asleep till I wake up out of no where at 3 in the morning. This took place with the same scenario where I went to bed around 11PM and fell sleep watching some youtube videos. I woke and it was around 2 AM, I wanted to use the bathroom and went to reach my glasses.
Then I was walking into the bathroom and I froze completely in my tracks. It felt like someone was infront of me, without knowing there was something there, And I saw it, this figure was pure pure black with horns and white eyes, I didnt make out a mouth at all. The auora around this figure was black spluring all over like it was black paint and black colored fire spreading all over it. It just kept staring at me, I was kind of in this daze walking slowly towards it, but then it just flew a few inches upward and fanished like dust.
Then I snapped out of it and felt really tired and light headed after whatever it was left my room. I was so tired, after what happened I just blacked out on my bed, therfore I woke the next morning with the worst ever headache and swirling stomach, but this went away after an hour or two.
Thanks for reading my true encounter. |
One day, me and my friend wanted to go exploring around the surrounding parts of my neighborhood. We lived in a suburban town in Western Pennsylvania and nothing really bad happens around here. I was about 16 at the time of this event and remember it vividly. So, on this day, we heard about an abandoned house right across the highway that has been deserted for years. Being young and adventurous at the time, my friend and I were excited to check out this place.
We rode our bikes to where the house was located. The house was semi-covered by overgrown trees and vines and the house was an eerie gray color. We parked our bikes behind the house to where the backyard was so we wouldn’t be seen by any neighbors (this house was surrounded by 4 other houses that were being lived in). The back door was cracked open already so we didn’t have to break anything open to get inside. Right as we walk through the back door, we were welcomed to the kitchen which was destroyed by water damage and mold. Luckily, we brought masks and gloves to protect us from the smell and everything we touch in this home. Miscellaneous items were scattered everywhere across the floor and down the hall which leads to the front door. This house is a two story house with an unfinished basement and looks like it was built in the mid-1900’s. One thing I noticed when walking through the first floor was that lots of the furniture and decor were still present in the house, which was odd. It seems like whoever lived here has completely left everything the way it used to be other than probably a few things because the interior of the house was still decently bare. We found an old record player, a few old video game consoles with those massive joysticks you use, and lots of old books. These were the items we found just scattered across the first floor hallway. We haven’t even went upstairs yet. There was a narrow wood staircase that leads up to the second floor. When walking up it, the silence was broken by the overwhelming sound of the creaking of the stairs. At the top, there are two rooms on either side of the stairs, each almost identical and symmetrical to each other. My friend and I decide to enter the left room first to see what’s inside. The first thing I see when entering was a massive gloss black piano in the middle of the floor. I was not sure why there was a piano upstairs and not on the first floor but it was cool, but ominous to see this. The thick carpet the piano sat on was a dark red color. Everything in this room was scattered across the floor as well. Most of the items were kids toys and magazines so I assumed that a whole family used to live here. Also, the one window that faces the backyard where we left our bikes was open when we walked in. This was odd but not surprising. The entire time here I just had a gut feeling that we weren’t alone, even though we have at least glanced into every room and this house has been for sale since 2006 (it was 2017 at the time). This is where things escalated almost immediately. My friend was searching through the bookshelves across the room while I was looking at the piano. I wanted to lighten things up, since we both felt slightly uneasy being here due to the state of the house it was in, so I wanted to play a tune on the piano. I play a few notes to some random song that I don’t remember, but I was interrupted by a loud crash coming from downstairs. It sounded like something from the basement, which the staircase to it was right below the staircase to the second floor, if you can picture what I mean by that. We both stood silently looking at each other in disbelief until moments after, we hear loud stomping running down the hallway on the first floor coming towards the second floor staircase. Whatever this was, sounded like it had big boots on and the whole house shook after each foot smashed into the floor as it ran through the hallway. There were no voices or screaming coming from whatever this was. It was just running after us. We hear it continue to run at full speed through the house and up the creaky stairs. My friend and I were freaking out and had to make a decision fast. Whatever this thing was, it wasn’t stopping at all on its way up to us. We remembered that the window next to us was open so our only solution to getting out safely was to jump out the window. From the moment I started playing the piano to when we jumped out the window after hearing someone chasing us happened within mere seconds. Luckily, our bikes were right below where we jumped out and all I could think about was getting out and across the highway as fast as possible. I got slightly hurt after jumping out the second story window but my adrenaline was through the roof and wasn’t thinking about it in that moment. My friend was right behind me the whole time thankfully and we both got on our bikes and left. I was shook to tears the whole ride back home.
To this day, I still have no idea what was in this house that chased us. We never heard the back or front door open and everything in this house creaks, so we would’ve heard it. This was in the house the entire time we were there and I don’t know how we didn’t see anything. I have a great feeling that this wasn’t human, but who knows. I will never forget this day ever.
Edit: Forgot to mention that I went back years later and found a barn way back in the woods. Seeing a barn in the middle of the woods would freak anybody out a little. Luckily, I didn’t experience any activity this time. I only went in the barn because the house ended getting boarded up and I’m concerned why that happened and who did it. The barn had a massive turkey vulture nest under the stairwell and it was really freaky. They circle the house and barn from above constantly and I got real close to some of them. Below are a couple images of the house and barn. Haven’t actually taken photos really of the house but I found one where it’s in the background.
|
This probably isn't that scary but its pretty freaky. This happened a few years ago. I had this one fake telephone that when you pick the phone up it says a random line and then stops and it is only activated when you pick up the phone. One night I woke up to the phone going of a speaking I was a little freaked out but I thought maybe it was the wind because I had the window open. I took the batteries out of the phone and went back to bed. A few hours later I heard the phone going off again and this time I felt a cold shiver going down my spin cause there was no way that phone could off been speaking because it couldn't without the batteries. I got up and picked up the phone and put it in the bin I have never seen the phone since but I still get scared thinking about it. |
The True Story of the Night Marcher’s
This story is 100% true, whether you believe me or not is up to you. When I replay these events in my head I often wonder if it’s true or not.
I don’t know where to begin with this story, it all just seems too surreal for me and my 3 friends. Since this incident happened 4 years ago no one has really spoken about it since in fact what happened on the island of Hawaii actually is the once incident that almost broke our friendship.
My name is Tom, to give you a better visual I’m about 5’11 and 160 pounds I’m 25 years old and I love the outdoors. In fact I loved the outdoors so much that I started a club in high school called the Outdoor Grizzly’s. It was a very small group of us who would set up different hiking trips to go on, we have hiked all the way to the beautiful Sleeping Giant state park trails of Connecticut all the way to the Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park in California which has fantastic 80 foot waterfall with a lavish scenery.
In this group of my fellow friends are my best friend since Middle School named Jake, my good friend I met freshman year of high school Jennifer, and lastly but not least Jake’s girlfriend since high school Christine. We were inseparable and went on all of our hiking trips together in high school. We held fund raisers with permission from the school, I believe the school seen how much we loved nature so much that we would make a career out of it so they gladly allowed us to take it a step further with permission from our parents of course.
We were all in shape for the most part which is part of the reason why we also loved doing what we did. It freed our minds, gave us clarity, took away our anxiety. Often you hear or have experienced yourself being a teenager riddled with anxiety and depression walking an uphill of uncertainty. But that wasn’t us! We even had a few of our teachers going hiking locally and they have told us how inspired they were and how it helped them with their anxiety and stress as well.
After we graduated from high school things sort of died down with the club. We all kept in touch but as what happens to most people after high school, life happens.
The only one I really kept in touch with was obviously my best friend Jake. He was still with Christine but her and I barely spoke because hiking wasn’t just in our blood anymore. Jennifer did her own thing and was seeing this college jock named Robert so we with the expedition of Jake all really just drifted. A few years had passed and..
One evening in May I decided it was nice enough to throw a bonfire. Just a few friends Christine didn’t really want to just hang around people she didn’t know so she bought up the idea to invite Jennifer. Through the power of social media Jennifer was actually very happy. She talked about how life got in the way and her and Robert broke up so the bonfire is just what she needed so she can play catch up with us all just like old times. She told me her number was still the same and to call her to confirm.
That went easier than I thought, suddenly I was filled with happiness and excitement. Just like old times.. the laughter, the jokes, this was something I wish I had done sooner.
We had the bonfire, it went off without a hitch. It was approximately around 1:30am. It was just us after everyone else left, Myself, Jake, Jennifer, and Christine. The cool spring breeze embraced my neck and the fire kissed my nose leaving me with goosebumps.
Jake had mentioned how peaceful and Nostalgic this was as he downed the tail end of his beer. The energy around our group was just so nice. And Jennifer mentioned how I once slipped on a wet rock trying to run away from an usual bug which was named the “bug incident”
We all laughed and Jake said if only we can relive those days and go back? Christine looked at Jennifer and said what if we can relive those days but we don’t have to go back to relive them?
Christine jolted up from her relaxed state and they both gave each other this look like they telepathically knew what they were talking about and they both squealed Jake and I smirked because we knew what was coming next.
I don’t want to bore you with the details more than what I already have. we picked a place exotic, different, we all voted on Hawaii. We always wanted to go there but could never raise that much money to go given that it was so expensive for a bunch of high schoolers at the time.
So we formed a plan, Jake’s aunt was a flight attendant, I had a rainy day fun with a generous amount of money and Jennifer saved money for a trip she was going to take on her own and Christine had a decent YouTube following for make up so she was sure she can crowdfund.
After 3 weeks we combined our finances and we were able to afford this trip. And we were going to stay around the Honolulu area because there was a very well known hiking place there with a beautiful waterfall.
We arrived at our destination and boy were we excited, we decided we would be tourist the first 3 days and the last 3 days we would spend hiking around the area and we would use the 7th day for getting ready to leave. We wanted to take it a step further we wanted to camp out in the area.
We have done it before so we know what to do and we were very well versed in camping and hiking so we had experience we felt like we could take this on. We made our way deeper and deeper into the forest. We saw people along the way. Tourist we spoke to, a few friendly locals, then we began to notice how much more isolated it became.
Christine had said we seem far away and we didn’t have any signal on our phones. She bought a compass and map so she said we should just find a place around the area we were in. We all agreed.
We found a beautiful place, it was like it was waiting for us. It was on a cliff side looking over almost the entire island! We didn’t realize how far up we hiked. And it was relatively safe. There was a fence made of bamboo so you really couldn’t fall unless you purposely threw yourself over the fence but even then there was a big enough rock protruding out so you couldn’t fall and die basically. It was really the most magnificent view I’ve ever seen. We set up the one tent we had and set up some lanterns around and made a final fire to keep away the insects.
Jennifer decided to go with Christine to explore around while Jake and I were setting up. Christine yelled “Hey!” we heard her clearing some bush. She said “stairs?” I thought she was just imagining it and she said no guys come on look. They looked pretty worn. But they led to that piece of rock on the bottom. To put it in a better perspective for you the reader picture Pride Rock from the Lion king we were standing on the flat piece and then imagine another flat piece on the bottom of that with stairs that wrapped around to get to the bottom. Instead of throwing yourself over the bamboo fence. (Kidding) Jennifer was against going down the worn steps because she was afraid someone might get hurt.
But we had to know where these stairs led to, what if it was treasure? An artifact? Jake and I decided to go and the girls can stay. The stairs in the beginning were made of stone and were worn but once we got to the middle of the steps it wasn’t as bad.
We finally got down and saw it was the piece of rock which we were standing on like on the upper level minus the forest. It was like a cave. We made our way into the cave and we could hear our footsteps crushing broken coconut shells and sand grit. Jake took his flashlight and lit up the inside. We were amazed, there seemed to be drawings on the walls and what looked like a burial site? It looked disturbed but the drawings are what had us intrigued. I lit my flashlight and pointed it to the wall we were able to make out bodies and very tiny heads. The walls looked untouched, we carefully swept the debris from the wall. We needed more light to understand the carvings we called the girls and reluctantly they came. We asked them to light their flashlight and point it to the wall. We all did at the same time and they were just as amazed. We took photos and we said at the end of our trip we will let the information desk know of this place maybe we discovered something no one has ever. Christine said “Wait a minute it seems like these carvings tell a sequence of events from right to left. As we looked at these carvings we just saw what looked like a figure pushing someone off a ledge. We immediately got the chills and decided to head back up.
Jake broke the silence and said remember this was thousands of years ago. It was apart of history. Jennifer replied yea but it’s just still creepy. We all agreed if it were to rain we would seek refuge in the cave.
We decided to go look around not to far from the camp site but just explore. We were all inspired since we stumbled across that carving on the wall maybe we can find something else. We were about 15 minutes into our walk when we realized the sun was beginning to set.
Christine bought up the fact we should probably head back we don’t want to get caught out here in the dark. It would make things harder for us. We all decided to head back. As we were heading back we heard rustling and sticks breaking. Christine grabbed Jake and Jennifer locked her arm with mine. Jake looked at me in bewilderment and said a animal? I said No, whatever it is has a heavy foot. Jake had a military grade knife and had his hand on it. Jennifer had her mace. The branches were sounding louder and louder we froze.
We braced ourselves on the defensive just in case. Suddenly the big leaves parted and a man who looked like a native Hawaiian with a straw hat and one of those touristy looking Hawaiian shirts emerged from the bushes. He said in a stern voice Why are you in these parts? We explained we are hikers from the mainland and we have a campsite not to far from here on a rock. We also mentioned the strange markings we saw on the cave walls.
His eyes suddenly widened and his eyes felt like they Pierced our souls. He said I’m going to give you advice from one human being to another. We just stood wide eyed with nothing to say listening intently waiting for what he would tell us.
He said you should not sleep there, you should pack your things and leave. Many bad things happened in this area for a millennia since the golden age has been broken. A curse has been cast on this sacred land and it would be foolish for you to stay here.
Jennifer said with a knot in her throat “Why?”
The man said “The Night-marchers” he then said Pō approaches. Get somewhere safe. And whatever you do don’t look them in the eye And he went off.
We all looked at one another Jake said “Did we really come all this way to leave?”
We decided it’s only going to be one night and dusk is approaching as soon as the morning comes we’ll pack and leave. We just won’t touch anything.
So we made our way back to the campsite. When we finally got back Jennifer remembered that she bought a pot and 2 cans of clam chowder with pita bread. We lit the fire put the pot over the fire and heat our food up and enjoyed a decent dinner and it was one of the best nights we had since our high school days hiking.
Christine looked at her watch and noticed it was 12:45am. I’ll never forget that time because it was the night from hell.
We decided to get ourselves ready to sleep two people can fit in one tent and since it was so beautiful outside and Jennifer and I admired the stars we decided to lay out and fall asleep under the stars.
I remember thinking to myself, I only see skies like this on wallpaper for my computer it was just so magical. I dozed off.
I remember waking up to use the bathroom, there was really no bathroom so I decided to go into the woods. I remember it was silent no animals making noises, no insects, nothing it was eerily quiet out. It was like time stopped. I quietly walked behind the tent into some bushes to release. Suddenly I heard a horn? I’m not sure what it was but it sounded like a horn. I just passed it off as me hallucinating and headed back to sleep. Suddenly as I was drifting back off I heard a what sounded like a drum. My finger tapped the ground the each beat of the drum. It began to get louder and louder. Jake woke up and peeked outside the tent and looked at me and said “How do you have service up here to watch a movie turn it down man.”
I said Jake that’s not me, now if you knew Jake when he would be very serious with me he would call me by my full name Thomas. He said “Thomas stop joking and go to bed you know we have to get up early to leave.” He rubbed his eye looking at his Apple Watch. Suddenly a horn noise went off again and it was even louder.
Jennifer sat up and said okay the prank isn’t funny not cool. Suddenly it sounded louder and the drum was getting closer and closer *DUM* *DUM* DUM* …. Christine was fast asleep in the tent. Suddenly when we thought we were cornered it went silent. All you could hear was out heartbeats.
We were frozen looking at one another and I gave Jake the look like we made a plan and we nodded to one another like we knew what to do. Jake slowly went back in the tent and you can hear him whisper “Christine” “Christine”…. Follows by a soft yea? Is it time to get up? I looked at Jennifer and she was what seemed like in a daze I motioned to her to grab her bag but she wasn’t moving?
She looked like she was moving her mouth and nothing was coming out I broke out of my fright and went up to her and said what’s wrong?! We have to go! She lifted her shaking arm and her half pointed behind me I grabbed her arm and said what?! In a angry whisper, she said behind….
My breath shook and I slowly turned behind me I can hear Jake getting things together in the tent and as I turned around this was the part that scared me to the core. I my fight or flight kicked in and I barely remember anything else. I saw a tall man at least 6 feet tall with a machete but that’s not what scared me, it was his head. It was very small, he had what looked like a coconut shell for armor with eyes cut out for holes and a small hole for the mouth his body looked normal but his head was as big as a coconut! Jennifer screamed Christine and Jake came out and froze in fear! I immediately pushed Jennifer away from looking at this monster… this thing she snapped out and got up and grabbed me and ran. Jake and Christine followed we didn’t know where we were going which direction we just ran. We left everything we heard footsteps branches breaking like if there were like 10 of them following just cutting the branches coming down like nothing. I don’t know how we got through the forest but Christine noticed a strong river of water and we figured we could lose them if we crossed we all jumped in and we started making our way through but it just kept getting deeper and before we knew the river overpowered us and carried us I looked back and I saw 5 of those beings with various weapons in their hands they stopped following us. They just stared at us. I kept looking and I will never forget seeing these people? I don’t know. Beings with average height but small heads. I passed out. I woke up with the sun in my face and Christine hitting my face. She had a gash on her head Jake and the rest of us all had scratches and bruising all over our bodies. Before we could even talk we heard a helicopter over us. They came and airlifted all of us to the island nursing triage to get checked out.
I asked the guy how did you find us? He said that individuals Apple Watch sent us coordinates at 4:55am we have been looking for you for 4 hours. Because it wasn’t easy getting to where we were.
Christine just cried and Jennifer hugged her. Jake and I looked at one another. The guy added that we shouldn’t have been there and we were way off the path. The local authorities came to speak to us and ask us what happened and I told them everything from the drawings to the strange men with small heads.
He went on to explain that’s just folklore. But people get so frightened of the Night-marchers that they end their life because their minds can’t take what they see. They have only had 2 instances of documented suicides one was a 19 year old girl who jumped off the rock cliff we were camping at and the other person they called off the search because authorities refuse to search when night approaches.
The area was closed off to the public when they found 4 headless bodies in the 1980’s. And the perpetrator was never found. He continued we must’ve been way off the trail to be by that rock area because it’s completely closed off. They seemed puzzled how we even got there to begin with.
As I had chills run down my spine I wondered….
Did we actually go into the river to
Escape or did we try to end our lives?
And what was under that coconut shell? Was there even a head at all? But how could they breathe? Or see? I asked the officer taking our statement, do the night-marchers have heads?
He said, since you’re alive to tell the tale they didn’t remove their coconut shell. But had you died and jumped off the cliff you like the young girl did would have known that answer for yourself.
We decided to take a very long break from
hiking or camping. Instead we just meet
up at a bar.
No one really talks about it. But I don’t want to wonder what a head the size of a coconut looks like. |
To give a little context I was 15 at the time and was down at a family friends house, at the time I had a long distance relationship with a girl from Georgia which will come into play later. So at the time it was dark out and I was just hanging out in the living room with there younger boys playing mortal combat when I get a call from Atlanta, I normally don’t answer calls from numbers I don’t recognize because they always seem to be scams and I had just gotten this number a year before that and would get calls like them all the time but thinking it was her I answered it. “Hello?” I said with nothing coming from the other end but what sounded like loud breathing, I took the phone off my ear thinking something was off with my phone, there was a lot of background noise from my parents conversations and at the time one of the moms were talking and right then I hear “glad to hear that bitch is still with you I’m on my way” and hangs up. I literally said “what the fuck” out loud. I shrugged it off and thought “eh not my problem” I texted my gf and said was that one of your friends? She had no idea what I was talking about, and right then, I get a text from the number it reads “I’m glad to hear that nasty ass whore in the background” and then I follow up with “on my way” I said “bro I think you got the wrong number” honestly just thinking it was my gf playing a trick on me he said “n***** have you lost your mind, say that when we pull up, fuck you im done talking” I said “dude it says your in Atlanta I’m 24 hours away from there” which is the truth. I do love that far away he just said “plan your escape route now.” At this point in time I’m thinking this guy must have a girlfriend that is screwing around with whoever this number used to belong too and I just wanted him to leave me alone because I’m not the guy. So I was trying to convince him I’m not the guy I said “ you got the wrong guy I’m telling you, how’d you even get my number?” He said (or this is how I took it his grammar was not very good) “ trailers take mins to burn down after being fully in flames old houses take 8” then followed by a “bitch shut the fuck up” responding to my message I said “ I don’t live in a trailer” he said “ I’m done talking I’m on the way bitch” now this was the stupid part on my end. but I just wanted him to live me alone and the chances of this guy coming all the way out to where I lived were slim, plus we live in a very rural area and would know instantly if there was a car by our house we didn’t recognize. I responded with “I’m 15 dude” he just put a “🤣” i then said “you literally have the wrong guy” this was the part that made my stomach sink and still does to this day I honestly felt like I was gonna throw up the first time I read it. He said “she’s dead” and then sent a picture. The picture was of what looked like a woman’s feet covered in tattoos and white nail polish in a very unnatural position. This was enough for me to lose it and tell this dude to leave me alone so I said “NAH DUDE YOU GOT THE WRONG GUY” he said “IP address says different so shut up pussy” followed by “see you shortly” my heart sank into my chest thinking this guy would actually be crazy enough to pull my IP after possibly murdering a woman. I had enough I said “ I’m blocking your number I don’t know how you got it but you got the wrong number” and being a dumb 15 year old tried to play it off cool so this guy wouldn’t actually come to my house the rest of my text read “I don’t got no bitches or anything whoever you are after it ain’t me” I immediately blocked the number and texted my friends about it. I thought about calling the police but I didn’t think they could really do anything with what little information I had and plus I didn’t want to tell my parents because I made the mistake of telling the guy my age. To this day I still don’t know if it was real or not and why it was my number he contacted it doesn’t even look close to the same area code he was in. I had completely forgotten about this story. it was like I put up a mental block in my brain just trying to forget about it, until I was listening to a true text message horror story on YouTube with my friend (shoutout to Mr nightmare) and wanted to share my story
I would put the screenshots but this subreddit won’t let me post photos |
So this happened to me and my little brother (we'll name him Dylan for confidentiality purposes) when we lived together a few years back.
I was at 25 year old male and my little brother was 19,we were relaxing playing some halo 3 on the xbox,smoking a bowl just being brothers hanging our usual daily day's off from work. It was a Saturday night in the mid summer of 2009. We lived in a quiet neighborhood, neighbors were just far enough apart you had privacy and they never got into your business.
But we all knew each other as our parents lived in the house for years and it was our childhood home. When my parents retired they moved off and left the house to us so we never had to worry about a roof over our head.
Now our house is at the end of the cul-de-sac with a garage door to the right and our front door is up 4 steps to the left of the window between our garage door but from our kitchen you can see straight out when the curtains are open.
This particular night however would grow to haunt me and my brother to this day,after a few hardcore hours of gaming it's like 3 in the morning my brother would need to get up a stretch his legs and relax his hands,he went down stairs to grab some water and a snack,when suddenly Dylan comes running up the stairs and locks the door freaking the total hell out,I look at him confused as fuck barking "Bro wtf is wrong?", with a pail ghost white face he looks at me and says "There is a guy on the forch with his hands cuffed to the window smiling from ear to ear."
Then we hear five knocks at the door,we froze in our tracks backing slowly away from the door,I get under my bed and grab the machete and bat I keep under my bed in case I ever needed to defend myself (I watch to many zombie movies),I give the bat to Dylan as he's taller than me and has longer arms be more beneficial to him.
We tip toe back to the bedroom door and unlock it,we crack the door open just enough to see out of, then suddenly the man knocks over and over and over before you know it he had knocked at least thrifty times and then it just stopped,I told Dylan to grab my cell phone and dial 911,he did and dispatch sent officers our way immediately.
While on the phone the man went around the back of our house because we heard screaming coming from the back yard,the man was there, just looking at the bedroom window with that creepy ass smile,we stayed just out of the line of sight peaking from the corners, suddenly the man takes off in full on sprint and threw himself into our back door,we holler "Oh shit he's trying to break in our back door!" to the dispatch officer.
She tell units to step it up as he's trying to make entry.
We hear the sirens closing in faster and faster as the man continues to bash himself into our door,on the third bash we hear the door crash open,we stay as quiet as possible listening to things in the kitchen being smashed to hell and the man yelling "Come out,come out, wherever you are!"
I whisper to dispatch that he's downstairs in the kitchen and she tells officers he's made entry and one unit said he was close.
We ready our bat and machete as we hear foot steps creaking up the stairs,then blue lights can be seen illuminating the house,as we hear "police come out with your hands up,make your presence known!" The man books it down the stairs and gets tackled by officer and handcuffed after a bit of a struggle.
We came out when the officer's cleared the house and made sure it was safe.
The man was high on meth just looking to rob us to get another quick fix,we're so thankful for officer arrived when he did,we thanked until the moment he left. He still came by from time to time to check on us and even played video games with us a few times.
I still get nightmares of that creepy ass smile,and to whomever you are creepy smiley man. I hope me never meet again. |
no it isn't aliens
a time ago I was at the nasa space camp in Alabama, and one night I woke up in the bunks at like 3 am for no reason. everyone else is asleep. I turn around and 2 bunks away there is a counselor standing there.
except hes not a counselor. hes got a green shirt, which counselors dont, and hes not moving at all, like not even swaying or anything, just as still as a wall. and most importantly, he has no face. is tired for like 30 minutes not turning away out of fear, then slowly try to to back to bed. eventually he disappears. never moved.
must've been something in that camp food |
null |
Around the age of 15, my cousin, "A" (16), a couple friends, and I had recently gotten into visiting haunted places. There was a very well known cemetery around where I lived, probably about 30 miles away. It is dusk when had left the house, so that we could arrive at the location at night but not so late that our parents would be worried about our well being. It's important to note that this cemetery was majority, if not all, soldiers from the civil war.
We travel down a small dirt road blasting music, talking about all of the things we are going to do when we leave our small town. We finally make it to the graveyard with no crazy stuff happening (we weren't expecting anything to happen either). We were supposed to let our parents know that we made it safely; however, there is absolutely no phone service. When we parked, my cousin, "A", and our 2 friends who are sisters, "E" and "L", and a few years older than us, are discussing who is going to get out first. "L" and I decide that we are staying in the car, because we wanted to, jokingly, use them as Guinea pigs. While we sit in the car, my cousin and "E" walk casually into the graveyard. "L" and I are joking around, saying that we will stick together and survive, but that's when things started to get real.
*BOOM*....*BOOM*.... the sound of bass coming from no where. "L" asks if I hear it too, but of course, I am the type of person to rule every scenario out before I resort to something being "supernatural". I tell "L" that it is probably just a car on the road. "L" then reminds me that we are in the middle of the woods in a very low populated town with no one else around. We hear it again, almost in perfectly timed intervals. She asks me, "This is a civil war cemetery, right?" That is when we realized that maybe it was some type of drum. I became startled. I called for "A" and "E" to please come back to the car. They come back, and we explain what we heard. They believed us, but before we left, they wanted to take pictures. Again, this is in the complete darkness, with nothing but our car headlights on for vision. We take pictures in front of the car, and then go through the phone to make sure we had one that was up to par. In the pictures were shining balls of lights, so much so that it looks like it is snowing. Now, we are in a huge rush to get out of there.
"A" and "E" jump in the car, and we drive away as quickly as possible, discussing possibilities for the camera on the phone to show up "balls of light". We are reviewing the pictures, and we then recieve a voicemail. "It is definitely one of our parents", I think to myself. We did not have service to call them when we arrived, and now they are very worried. I honestly wish it was one of our parents yelling at us telling us that we were grounded or that "they were so worried", but what had followed was so much worse. We could barely hear anything, but we hooked it to the aux and turned the volume up. It was us. Talking. Our entire conversation from before we were going to take the pictures to when we drove away.
We still aren't sure what exactly caused any of these things, but we never went to another graveyard after that. |
null |
This happened to me about 10 years ago when I was 14. It was a warm summer night in 2012, I (14f at the time) was walking around the city with my friends R (16m) and his older cousin J (24m).
We had all been neighbors for about 4 years now and our families knew eachother so it was quite normal for us to all be hanging out together despite the age gaps.
During our walk, we decided to take a shortcut through the cemetery. It was after hours and im pretty sure it was illegal for us to be in there at that time but we weren't doing anything other than cutting through which we would often do during the day as well. As we were walking down the path, we saw headlights turning into the cemetery and the boys, of course, darted way ahead of me into the treeline.
since the boys ran ahead of me off the path and away from the lights... it was pitch black. there was residual light twinkling through the branches as I made my way down into the trees but it dropped down to a slight hill and the light was lost.
I was walking along trying to be as quiet as possible, almost blind due to my eyes not adjusting yet,, and thats when the feeling of dread set in. I had no idea where the boys were, I couldn't see, and I didn't want to be caught my the police by myself.... but there was something else. Almost a chill in the air on this warm night in July. I tried to brush off this uneasy feeling, thinking it was just my nerves or being scared cause the boys took off without me but alarms were going off in my head like something was very very wrong and apart from legal reasons, I should not be there.
I make out a shape to the left of me as I'm walking I take a couple steps towards it "guys, is that you?" Nothing. No response. I take a few more steps forward and I swear to God, just like the movies a freaking twig snaps under my foot.
Now, the reason I had thought it was the boys is because this shape was crouched down next to a pile of brush and was big enough to look like two people haunches over. I thought they had been hiding there... but when the twig snapped, I stopped in my tracks as this thing stood up and towered over me. I was about 5ft tall at the time and this thing was easily two of me stacked right on top of eachother. Whatever this thing was, it was only 15 feet or so away from me and I was frozen with horror.
It was facing away from me at first, then it's neck/ head almost swivled around like an owl and I was met with an oval shaped grey face with no nose or mouth, only 2 itch black hollow eye sockets. The rest of this things body was pitch black against the dark trees, the light from the path as no longer streaming through the branches. It was just me this thing that seemed like the personification of darkness itself.
This thing and I stared at eachother for what felt like an eternity. The woods around me through the corners of my eyes was getting darker and my heart was pounding so hard I could feel it through my entire body. Every tiny hair on my body was prickling. I was cold. The only thing I can remember thinking was "this is it. I'm never going to see my family again."
The body of this thing had followed its head and swivled so now I could see it's long, curved arms held right up to what would be this things chest. It's legs were similarly curved, almost like it wasn't standing at full height, but still slightly crouching down. It's body was almost translucent and it looked like it was wearing some kind of hooded cloak that was see through as well. The only thing that was 100% solid was its face and its void like eyes that made me feel like I was staring right into the depths of hell.
Neither of us moved. We were locked in the most terrifying staring contest for what felt like an eternity until a strange feeling came over me, I felt like I could move again and I had the energy to run a 5k marathon without breaking a sweat.
Then, I heard very a calm but stern voice say "Go. Now. Run."
Its kind of hard to explain where the voice was coming from exactly. It was sort of in my head but all around me at the same time. I'm getting chills as I write this...
I know the voice did not come from whatever this thing was in front of me, because when I heard the voice speak, it looked as if this horrid creature recoiled at the sound of it. Like it took a step or two backwards and kind of ducked it's head down.
I saw this as my chance and I turned away from this thing and I start bolting down further into the treeline no longer caring about being quiet and crashing around through the bush like an animal being chased by some predator. I could almost feel this thing right on my tail but, after running about 200 feet (ish?) I run directly into the boys. Literally crashing into them. I'm obviously scared and pissed so i ask why the F they left me like that and they apologized.
Apparently I had been missing for almost half an hour and they had already searched the direction I ran from. They heard weird whispering voices all around the woods while I was gone. Like the voices were coming from everywhere around them. They said right before I crashed into them, the whispering stopped. I told them about what I saw and all they said was that we should get out of here.
We left the cemetery very quickly and as soon as we walked out of the gates, it was like we all let out this sigh of relief. We never talked about that night again and even during the day, none of us ever took that shortcut through the cemetery.
I still live in the same city and to this day I avoid it like the plague. I won't even drive by it.
This isn't my only story but it's definitely one of the more terrifying ones that still haunts me to this day. |
What is your thoughts on the Enfield Poltergeist? Do you believe it?
|
Since I was a kid, I was drawn to this abandoned farm house on the corner of this road leading to my house. It was about a block or two away from home, and we would pass it every time we would go to the store, or the YMCA to swim. There was something so cool, majestic, and hell even, “badass” about the way it stood and towered over us as we passed.
Not too long ago, my friend moved in to my parents house because he needed a place to stay for the time being. We both have our bored moments and try to think of anything to do to cure it. Between then and now, I completely forgot about the house, but something made me bring it up.
So on one cold night, we walk about a mile to the house, about a 15 minute walk. Before hand, we have done research, and no one has owned the house in over 20 years. My friend was asking me if we could just drive my car there, but for some reason I had a bad feeling about that, even though if something were to happen, we would’ve gotten out of there a lot faster.
We eventually got to the house, and we found all the doors to be locked. Doing some exploring and looking around, we found the trapdoors to the basement, and instead of metal, they were soft wood, weathered from years of rain. So soft, that the wood just bent back and opened without the hinges budging.
Once we got inside, it was really nothing but old stoves, countertops, torn wallpaper and holes in the hardwood floor. Not even a few minutes into exploring, when the sound of cowboy boots echoed beside the house, on the porch.
“You boys better get outta my home.”
We rushed out of the house like raccoons scurrying away, looking behind us on the porch. No one. No one has lived there, and no one has owned the place. There was even a for sale sign on google maps in-front of it years ago. Was this a spirit or someone messing with us? Whatever it was must have clipped out of the earth as we walked out because it was just gone. |
This happened to me a few hours ago on my walk home from my co workers house. It was 9:00 pm when I left her house and began my walk back to my own. I walked up the street and decided i’d take the trail that lead to a park close to my house since it would be a lot faster than walking through the neighborhoods. How the trail was set up there were houses on the left side of it across a street and to the right about 4 feet from where I was standing was brush that lead down to a very large over grown area. I had my airpods in and was on the phone with my mom when all of the sudden I hear what sounds like a growl from something big. I stopped in my tracks and took out one of my airpods only to hear heavy footsteps from something about a foot into the brush. I guess when it comes to stuff like this i’m not a fighter. I instantly took off from the trail and ran into the neighborhood I looked back for only a second to see the brush moving right where I was standing moments ago. my head started to hurt and my broken arm was banging into my chest with every step but I ignored the pain. I took a right and then another and I was across the street from the park. From where I was I could see over the trail since it dipped down into a tunnel that lead to the park. I started walking to catch my breath only to hear a loud roar on the trail from something big and angry. I immediately started running again and told my mom in a broken sentence that something roared on the trail. At this point all I had to do was walk down the street and take a right to make it back to my house so I knew unless this thing had super speed I was safe. I made it home and the adrenaline wore off but after having hours to think I wonder what that thing was and would have happened to me if I stuck around on that trail. |
Hi this happened a while back (like early 2021 maybe) but I'm still stunned by it so I thought I would share it on here.
Ever since I was young I have sleep paralysis off an on and have always feared it and going into my teen years it got worse, I use to bite my tongue to wake up but that no longer works. But on this day, I didn't try anything I wasn't even scared surprisingly, anyways I "awaken" hearing two voices (male and female) asking each other of I'm awake, and I was honestly a little annoyed because I hate my sleep being disturbed but knowing I was having sleep paralysis I was a little happy knowing I probably wouldn't be able to wake up until it was over. Anyways after asking each other they decide to ask me🤦♀️ I said nothing because 1. I didn't want to and 2.I couldn't. The male voice than says "should we see if she's awake?" The female voice than says "tickle her" now me hating being tickled tries to say "NO, NO, NO. I'M AWAKE, I'M AWAKE" Short after I feel a long nail tickle me and I had a small rush of adrenaline which is surprising bc normal it would've been a lot more but I wasn't even scared of the voices really. I woke up shortly after wondering what the hell just happened and I even turned around and saw no one in my room. Also these were voices I didn't not recognize at all, they sounded a bit out of place and by that I mean I've never heard anyone talk the way did except in movies or shows. They sounded like a rich couple with a slight bit of fancy in their voice but not too fancy. |
One night when I was 8 or 9 my mom told me we were going to my aunts. I was happy because usually when we went there I would’ve gotten candy or some trinket like that.Once we got there we were just sitting in are car waiting for my aunt to respond to my mother’s text. It was a shady part of town so my mom wanted to make sure that the door was unlocked so we could get in. Then a man possibly on drugs or drunk or maybe just crazy came up to the car window and knocked on it my mom new something was up. So she rolled down the window a little bit. The man stared and chuckled my mom said what was the problem he pointed at me which I was in the back of the car and said that child stole my link card. My mom was understandably confused and lock the door immediately.The man chuckled again and started shaking the car door’s Handel trying to open it. My mom told my sister who was in the passenger seat to call 911 she knew that this man was not in the right state of mind. He started screaming yelling that I stole his card. Suddenly my mom saw that he was going for the back door. She saw that it was unlocked suddenly the man open the door and tried to grab me. My mom pressed on the throttle and the car jolted forward. he suddenly realized that my sister was on the phone with the police. he looked at my mom and started running down the street I was scared for the rest of the night and couldn’t sleep. But we did get into my aunts house without any more problems and we never saw that man again. |
I get followed by random people on Instagram all the time and creepy messages don’t really bother me anymore - there are a lot of weirdos out there. I do tend to read the messages though, out of curiosity and because sometimes they’re really funny.
Last year, one account stood out to me, because it DMed me saying “you should ride in our clown car”. I looked at the profile, and many of the images featured VERY creepy clown illustrations and photos. I actually drew a few of them in my notepad because I am I intrigued by strange things like that. The username seemed like gibberish to me, but I googled it and it turned out to be a German author’s name written in one word.
I showed my boyfriend the account, and we both thought it was pretty weird but funny. So I replied to him asking if I was an egirl and they struck up a conversation with me, which got increasingly more explicit (on his side) as it went on. Again, I’m used to this kind of thing, so my boyfriend and I thought we’d just troll a bit. He was much creepier than some others though. He spoke with an intelligence and authority that showed me he was older and much smarter than the usual creeps who message me.
He wanted to know more and more about my ‘private life’ with my boyfriend, so I thought I’d bargain with him. He had mentioned he was a journalist, so I asked if I could read some of his material in exchange for my (fake) answers, because I kind of wanted to know who this guy was. An example of a message he sent:
“Good girl (my name). There’s really no reason to wait to open your legs if you feel that primal attraction and chemistry… Do you tell him to wear a condom or do you rather enjoy the feeling of being filled?”
Usually I would have blocked such a weirdo by now, but I got worried when he said something about ‘teaching (me) AP style’. I became concerned he was a teacher. If he was willing to message me, a 20 year old, maybe he was willing to message girls a lot younger than that or girls he had power over as their teacher. It was just a hunch at the time, but I decided to keep on trying to investigate.
Eventually he sent me a message saying:
“You’re gonna put me in professor mode and I won’t be able to get any salacious slight enjoyment out of you sexually because I’ll see you as a student”.
Bingo. I was right.
I felt sick at this, but I now became determined to work out who he was and wanted to expose him to whoever he worked for. I asked him if he ever looked at his students how he was looking at me, and he said:
“What professor hasn’t - rarely but occasionally - had an enthusiastic and attractive young student and considered ‘what if’ from time to time.”
I got the impression it wasn’t such a “rare” experience for him.
I started googling his username again, and found a list of university teachers from across the US and UK who had interest in this German author. I spent hours collecting information.
He obviously wasn’t willing to tell me who he was, but he seemed entertained at the idea of me guessing. I began to get frustrated, so I decided to try and get his IP address. I was worried he’d realise and block me, or do the same to me and threaten me. But I was too invested in trying to find out who he was now. I disguised it in a fake link and got his location. He didn’t catch on.
This narrowed down my search a LOT. He was actually messaging me while he was on his university campus. I still wasn’t sure which teacher was him though. So I emailed the university pretending to be a student, asking if any professors had expertise on the author I found in his username, and made up an essay title I was working on. They replied the next day with a name.
I’d been suggesting to him I was trying to work out who he was, so I sent him a message saying “hello, (his name). I’ve found you.”
He knew time was up and I’d got him.
I emailed the university from a burner account (for fear of getting sued for deformation) with screenshots of his messages, outlining my concerns for his students and how I had discovered his identity. I never heard anything back from them. I don’t know what happened to the clown man, but I really hope he was at least fired. |
I managed to trap my prey, well saying I “trapped” my prey isn’t exactly what happened I just kinda to took it while it slept. Shot it up with some tranquilizers and it was good to go, I guess it’s time to try my hand at cooking it up. I went ahead and put it out of its misery, I don’t need it wiggling around while I butcher it, unfortunately that meant I didn’t get to hear the squealing maybe next time. I cut the thigh meat off first and sliced it up into bacon like strips. I cut off the butt cheeks, I’ll end up cooking those like ham or like a roast. I’m definitely gonna cook the head like you would a lambs head, the eyes will be especially tasty, like two juicy grapes. I’ll cook the liver just like well you know “liver”, add some onions to it and it’ll be really delicious, just like mother used to make. I’ll just grind up everything left over, maybe make some burgers out of it. Lastly I’m gonna boil the bones into a broth. Just another short entry today, maybe more next time. |
I was desperate. Down to my last few bucks and on the run, the old Seabrook Inn was a haven in my stormy life. It was way off the main road, nestled among a grove of ancient trees, looking like it hadn’t seen guests in decades. The elderly innkeeper gave me a wary look but handed me the key to Room 417.
The first night was uneventful. But on the second, a faint, rhythmic tapping sounded at my window. Startled, I looked out but saw only the gnarled branches of the trees swaying. I chalked it up to the wind and settled back into bed.
On the third night, the tapping was louder, more insistent. Accompanying it was a soft, almost inaudible whisper. Straining my ears, I could barely make out a repeated phrase, "*Let me in... Let me in...*" I was on the fourth floor. What could possibly tap on a fourth-floor window?
I mentioned it to the innkeeper the next morning. His face turned a shade paler. He dismissed it as old building sounds and swiftly changed the subject.
But curiosity consumed me. I dug into the local archives, hunting for clues. What I discovered was a chilling tale of sorrow and obsession.
Fifty years ago, a woman named Elara stayed in Room 417. She'd fallen madly in love with a man from Seabrook, but their love was forbidden due to their families’ feud. In despair, she'd thrown herself from the window of Room 417, her last words being a plea to her lover to join her.
Legend had it that Elara's spirit still haunted the room, seeking her lost love. I shivered. Surely it was just a myth.
That night, the tapping grew even louder. The whisper turned into a desperate plea, "Join me, my love... Join me..." Trembling, I peered out of the window, and there she was: Elara's ghostly silhouette floated outside, her hand outstretched towards the glass, her eyes, hollow voids, fixed on me.
Panicking, I packed my things and bolted for the door. But it wouldn't budge. The temperature in the room plummeted. Every shadow seemed to twist and writhe. Elara's whispers now echoed all around, her sorrow palpable in every syllable.
"Stay with me... Stay..."
Hours felt like days. Trapped and terrorized, I desperately searched for an escape. The old legends mentioned her lover, but his identity remained a mystery. The answer to my escape, I believed, was to find out who he was and somehow convince Elara to release her grip on the living.
In the room's old fireplace, I found a hidden compartment containing love letters between Elara and her forbidden lover. His name was Samuel, and he never knew of her tragic end. He had written of plans to reconcile their families and unite in love. Their story remained unfinished.
With newfound determination, I called out to Elara. "He loved you! He wanted a life with you! Read his words!"
A gust of wind scattered the letters around the room. The temperature slowly began to rise. Elara's form appeared, more defined this time, reading each letter with tears streaming down her face.
"I waited... I hoped... But he never came," she sobbed.
"He never knew, Elara," I whispered, my own tears falling. "He loved you."
A soft light enveloped the room, and Elara's form began to fade. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice echoing one last time before vanishing entirely.
The door unlocked on its own, and I stumbled out into the hallway, gasping for breath. I left the Seabrook Inn that very night, never looking back.
Years have passed, and life has moved on. But every so often, when the wind howls and shadows dance, I hear a faint whisper, a soft thank you from a love once lost, echoing from the confines of Room 417. |
In the heart of a dense, fog-shrouded forest stood the imposing Blackwood Manor. Its decaying façade loomed ominously, casting a pall of darkness over the surrounding landscape. Locals whispered of the chilling history that clung to the mansion like a sinister shadow.
One moonless night, a group of curious young adults decided to challenge their fears and explore the rumored haunted house. Armed with flashlights and trembling courage, they crossed the threshold, unaware of the terror that awaited them.
As they ventured deeper into the mansion's dilapidated interior, the air grew colder, and eerie whispers seemed to echo in the corridors. The walls seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy, and strange symbols adorned the floors, telling tales of rituals long forgotten. The group's unease heightened, but their curiosity pushed them forward.
Soon, the flickering of their flashlights revealed fleeting glimpses of apparitions - shadowy figures that darted in and out of view. Unsettling laughter echoed through the halls, sending shivers down their spines. Every creak of the floorboards seemed to announce the presence of unseen entities.
In the heart of the mansion, they stumbled upon a hidden chamber. The walls were covered in grotesque paintings, each depicting scenes of suffering and despair. An ancient tome lay open on a dusty pedestal, its pages filled with cryptic incantations. Without warning, the room grew colder, and an otherworldly wail filled the air.
Panicked, the group tried to flee, but the mansion seemed to shift, trapping them within its labyrinthine passages. Whispers became wails, and the walls seemed to close in around them. The apparitions grew more tangible, their eyes glowing with malevolence.
One by one, the group members disappeared, swallowed by the darkness. Frantic footsteps echoed as they tried to find their way out, but the mansion's maze-like design seemed to change with every turn. Dread filled the air, suffocating their breath and sanity.
As the night wore on, the mansion seemed to feed on their fear. They were taunted by glimpses of their worst nightmares, haunted by memories they thought they'd buried. Desperation turned to madness, and the line between reality and illusion blurred.
When morning finally broke, a single survivor stumbled out of Blackwood Manor, their sanity hanging by a thread. They recounted a tale of terror that defied explanation - a nightmarish descent into a realm where the boundaries between the living and the dead had been irrevocably shattered.
Blackwood Manor stood as a grim reminder of the darkness that could lie hidden in even the most innocent of places. The woods grew silent, and locals continued to avoid the area, lest they awaken the malevolent forces that lurked within. And so, the haunting at Blackwood Manor became a cautionary tale, a story whispered around campfires to remind all who heard it that some mysteries were best left untouched. |
I recently moved from a big city to a little neighbourhood. The people were nice and so were the houses. It wasnt one of those crappy neighbourhoods, it was more like an upper class neighbourhood. The house I bought was amazing. But oddly the people avoided it. The person who sold it to me said it was on the market for 10 years. No one wanted it. I didnt understand why. It was a 2 story house, beautiful white and black marble everywhere. A house you'd expect to be millions of dollars. But i got it for $200, 000. In my opinion it was a great deal! But what the man said sent waves of shivers down my spine. "Weird things happend here. The last owners were crazy. They said something about... Entitys? I dunno, but they left. They said they 'took shape of things they never seen before'. Haha. Crazy." Then he shook my hand and walked away. My first night there was weird. I heard scratching on my door and I couldn't move. The scratching got louder and louder, as if what was outside that door was getting impatient. Sweat dripped off of mu still body. I wasn't scared yet my body was saying i was. The door handle started rattling. I was finally able to sit up. When i did the door slightly opened. Long, dark fingers wrapped around the door. I had to be imagining it. Right? The fingers were bigger than my arm, reaching all the way across the door. Instinctively i grabbed my lamp and threw it. It hit the door and smashed. The thing screeched and retracted. I couldn't sleep. Not knowing what it was or where it came from. I havent slept for 3 days now. Someone help me. Am i going crazy like the old owners? |
Its was rainy day it rains for two days straight but on that night it didn't rain and my father is out of town i am alone with my mother in our new home that was side of an old abandoned fort. it's just a 2 bedroom home with front yard that directly facing that fort. and located at the end of the neighbouring street and two homes that connected to our home are of bachelors who not leave their frequently and that fort was builded in 1500 AD and abandon since 1800 AD and for 17 years a dead body of King wifes remained here because of construction of taj mahal later that body shift inside taj mahal also taj mahal was planned to build in my city but latter that plan was abandoned by king
coming back at that night its a regular saturday night i have watched movie till late night and goes to sleep around 2 am it was all silence i felt cause it continuously rained for two days then it stopped. so the silence was all over street and that fort two security guards always went to sleep after 12 am it was all alone and silent that i watched outside my window that directly faced to street that and can clearly seen fort main building through my window and thats look haunted at night.
also my friend from that neighbourhood always ask me weird question that i don't understand like do you like in that home and what's your experience living their i don't understand why they ask latter i asked my friend who elaborated the whole situation she said your house was build on small graveward of fort where the animals,soldiers,and even that queen who died in that fort kept for some time here in that place and before you the two family lived their one family left just in 3 months and the second family the couple who latter hanged his wife in our home after that your family is the one who is living their and also their is a urban legend that in your home their are evil spirits.
and it's all true sometimes i feel that aura in that home you all agree that you can feel that bad vibe when you enter a haunted place now coming back on that night when i went to sleep i saw that haunting silence all over the street i lay on my bed a was restless didn't sleep for 1 hr then its 3 am suddenly all that thoughts comes and filled my mind with horror but i convince my brain its just bad thoughts and goes to sleep after drinking some water but then i hear a sound like some women is shouting on her child i got petrified waked up and saw through window and it no one again i lay down on my bed then i hear clearly the same noise directly like she was standing in our front yard i waked up again directly goes to my mother room found that they also waked up and heard same noise like someone shouting we all are afraid what to do my mother started taking gods name i held all my courage and went to main hall to see that some one is there or we won't get hallucination it was some thing real and saw nothing then went to room through hall way and suddenly heard like something was fallen so loudly in front yard we all gather in hall and just sit their it's 4:30 am now and now many noises are coming like 4-5 people is discussing something and that loud shouting noises become more clear but no one near our home i called my father but his travelling some his phone doesn't have any network so i called my uncle luckily his phone got connected and i asked him to come by he heard my patrified voice he was also worried finally he comes and we all goes to my uncles place stay there till my father comes to town again after that night i went their in morning there no sign of anything but i seen a footprint that went in my house and our bathroom door was opened
after that that incident we moved to other place till then we all lived in my uncles home its the only experienced something haunting fortunately any three of us didn't hurt but my thoughts on spirit and supernatural things got changed forever |
null |
For the past few months my bedroom door had been opening by itself which I thought was a bit odd but I brushed it off because I had my window open at the times it would open so I would get up and shut it but it would open pretty much as soon as I shut it and sometimes it stayed shut which was pretty annoying. I also found out that for the door to properly shut I would have to pull the door up and lock it into place however the door one day did something that it never had before. I was playing on my ps5 and wasn’t paying much attention to my surroundings but I saw clear as day a pale arm reach to the outside of my door and slam it shut. It didn’t feel like a threatening entity and I wasn’t scared. I was talking to my aunt the other day who said that she went to a physic who said that a relative called will (me) was going to bed upset and my grandad called Bill was watching over me and was trying to make me a bit happier. Can somebody please tell me what it means or anything about the situation that I might be missing because I don’t really know much about the paranormal? |
There was a man who lived near the woods on a hill. He had no friends, his family lived far away, and no wife.
He was on his way back to the store when he heard a "Meow." He turned around and saw a black cat. It had the biggest yellow eyes, and was skinny as twigs. So he picked it up, bought it all of the things he needed to keep the cat.
When he got home he was unpacking groceries when he turned to see the cat. He gave it some food on a plate. What he saw, he will never forget. He saw the cat open its mouth s wide as it would go, and eat most all of the food in one bite. "Okay..that's weird. Maybe it's just hungry." he said. He went to watch TV and was on his way to bed when he heard something.
It was a meow, but it sounded like a deep, raspy howl. Almost like something was trying to mimic a cat sound. This freaked the man out so he went and put the cat outside with a blanket. All night he heard those ~~meows~~ howls.
The next morning, the man awoke and ate his breakfast. The guilt overcame him so he took a look outside. What he saw, would haunt him *forever.* There were half eaten birds, squirrels, dogs, raccoons, even cats scattered in a bloody mess in the yard. There was an eaten deer with no skull.
He looked and saw the cat. It was about 60 ft tall, but still skin and bones. It had spider-like arms and legs. It stood on its hind-legs and walked around, letting out a howl as loud as a train.
The man stayed in his house for a while until he thought. *"I can't stay here"* So he grabbed his shotgun and slowly opened the door. He stepped into the yard. He was steps away from the truck when his neck started to sweat. Why was his neck so sweaty? That's unusual. But..what he heard next, would haunt him for just a second. Behind him, he heard a Deep, Low, Raspy howl.
#x200B;
#x200B;
#x200B;
In this story I descried a Native American Wendigo. A Wendigo is a demonic spirit that has curse with whoever it eats or possesses will be reborn into a Wendigo. The effects would include, being very skinny no matter how much you eat, and a never ending hunger. Soon that hunger would be a hunger for human blood. They are extremely fast and they communicate through howls. They will eat ANYTHING, from Birds to humans. They say the only thing that can kill a Wendigo is Silver (A silver blade, bullet, ect...) The only thing that will ward off a Wendigo is a certain symbol. The Native American Wendigo usually lives in unpopulated areas, such as a forest or a mountain. (this man lived in Colorado so he lived near both, which is why the Wendigo showed up at the store. (The store was very unpopulated) If you liked it I can make more stories pls tell me and i will! :D)
#x200B; |
Ik this isn’t really like scary story but it is scary to think about almost dying, so here’s my story. Freshman year of Highschool I became “friends” with these girls who were your typical ghetto trashy fake high school bitches, I think it was around lunch time and I don’t really remember what we were doing but Ik we were rushing, maybe the bell had rung, but one of the girls in the group took me to the bathroom and asked me if I wanted her “stuff” it was just weed and I was a desperate 14 year old so I obviously took it. It was in one of those plastic like containers that you get at dispensary’s, so I thought it was legit. I didn’t Open the container till I got home and when I opened it that shit was crushed up tree leaves. I was sad but not surprised at the very least, I obviously never smoked it. Recently there has been problems with lacing drugs with fentanyl and people have been putting that shit in weed, and in the town I live in , it’s pretty ghetto and has a lot of drug problems. I’m so glad I never smoked it because I probably would be dead. Be careful out there guys and don’t trust anybody, stay safe ! |
null |
My uncle gave me some bullets from the American civil war that had been shot. I took them home and washed them because they were a bit dirty and I left them in a tub. My dad from then on had been getting very strange things happen to him such as a door falling on him head that was lent up like this angle and hit him on the head 📐 he was stood on the this side of the text. there was no wind at all. Then my wardrobe door shut behind him as he saw it shutting out of the corner of his eye. It’s a sliding door and takes a good push to shut. Finally a glass chopping board fell over on the hob which was pretty much at the same angle as the door that fell on his head. We told my aunt about this and she asked if we had brought anything into the house recently to which we told her about the bullets. We went to the local duck pond and I said something on the lines of rest in peace and leave us alone and threw them in the pond. I threw them up and when they landed in they shot about 6 foot across the water. We sat on a bench and as soon as we did blossom fell on our head off of a tree and the atmosphere felt a bit lighter at home. They were also covered in what looked like rust or blood. |
I never liked the ocean. There’s something about water, vast and uncontrollable, that freaked me out. When I moved to Seabrook, it was the last place I wanted to be, right on the coast. Yet, there I was, trying to make the best of it. Little did I know, this town had more up its sleeve than just some pretty waves and sandy beaches.
Seabrook had this eerie tale: every 50 years, the sea claimed someone. I laughed it off as a ghost story told at campfires. But the sheer number of memorial plaques by the beach told a different story.
One night, after perhaps one too many drinks, I decided to face my fears head-on. As I staggered along the beach, a ghostly ship materialized out of the fog. It didn’t float on the water but hovered just above it. The crew, pale and translucent, beckoned me. Creepy, right?
Digging for answers the next day led me to my grandma’s old journal. Turns out, the ship’s crew were the good guys. They protected Seabrook from some deep-sea monster hell-bent on destruction. Every 50 years, they needed a hand, and someone from the town had to step up.
That night, lured by an unseen force, I found myself at the water’s edge again. Suddenly, the scene changed. I was amidst a fierce battle, with the ghostly ship and its crew fighting a monstrous sea serpent. Their voices echoed, “Help us! Save Seabrook!” What was a guy to do? I joined in.
It was chaotic and surreal, like something out of a video game. As dawn approached, the beast retreated, and everything went back to normal. Well, almost. I had become the town’s secret guardian, ready to step in when the beast returned.
The years rolled on. While folks sunbathed and built sandcastles, I was ever-watchful, always waiting. I knew that when the whispers of salt echoed again, it’d be time for round two. Seabrook might’ve been my last choice for a home, but I’d be damned if I let some sea monster ruin it. |
Since I can remember we have always lived in this village. It stank of a putrid smell due to the deadly swamp that encircles the village. There is only one way in and out. Crocodiles, and all manner of beasts live in the waters to poisonous white flowers lining the edges. Beautiful and inviting in the fragrance of sunshine, butterflies and places unknown. Some say it was planted, others say it's naturally occurring.
Basically everything in this place will kill you if you're not careful. Momma tells me as long as we keep faith and follow the rules we will be safe. Every year a ceremony is held where the elders go forth to the bog. No one knows what happens but in this journey one is always lost or killed by the marshlands.
It’s almost as if it’s alive as we are, I dreaded the fate of those who didn't return home. Underneath the terror was a curiosity of how exactly they died. We were kept ignorant. Even as children my friends and I thought something horrifying dwelled there if we forsake our own in such a place.
Even going to town was full of peril, and we only left once a month for supplies. My father was taken by swamp during a ceremony and we mourned him. Since his death I have only had questions. What killed him? Why? What is this important ritual about? It protects but how? We live in a place no one already wants to go, the sun rarely even visits.
When my friends and I turned 18, Ash was selected for the rite. His parents were proud but they looked profoundly saddened. My heart sank when I watched his parents' faces. They knew something would happen. The adults had to know. I’ll follow them with a weapon in hand and the determination to find out the answers I so desperately needed.
Ash seemed happy, he was going to become part of something bigger and finally be realized as an adult. This was his right of passage. Didn't even consider something remotely sinister could be going on. He simply assumed I was jealous. How could I be? Did he forget all about1 what could be in the swamp?”
There was a time I might have been but joy was replaced with suspension over the elders. I followed the procession in the dark using my eyes and their torch light to lead the way. It was a cold night with no stars, not even a moon, just pure darkness.
Out of sheer bad luck I slightly slipped. The lanterns gave off enough light to see what I stepped on. A perfectly preserved body, this hellhole had been full of the dead the whole time. Did the swamp take them all? Why did they have no skin now ? They are full of puncture wounds! How did they die?
I had stopped dwelling on morbid thoughts and caught up to a clearing. I never knew such a place existed, litter with human bones spanning the expense of the glade. My eyes widened in object horror of the numerous skulls.
Snapping me out of my thoughts was the conversation. Thanking my friend for his sacrifice , the green god would be appeased. His parents would be so proud.
“Ash run! Run Ash!” I screamed consequences be damned. Before he could even register my words a larger vine grabbed at his legs as he begged for his life. I burst through the bushes and rushed to my friend trying to rip him from the vine. It had grown thorns digging deep into his legs. I pulled against the force of this plant but it was growing in strength.
Soon it began to throw us both around in a rain of blood. The vines ascend higher covering his torso. As if a boa it began to coil tighter and tighter around Ash encasing him in spikes. I heard only a gurgling cry only once. At this point I was dropped to the ground still holding Ash’s
hand. His blood splattered all over my face. It unfurled, dropping a skinless body, only muscle and bone. It stripped the flesh right off him.
The elders prayed with joy as I sobbed covered in gore. Ash was gone. They all knew, they all are complicit in these murders. They knew what happened to my dad, they led victims out in the name of this abomination. This village is cursed. We are all damned.
|
I finally know. It was just a normal flight to Hawaii in the summer for a vacation. It was going to be a nice break from my crummy office job. I was in the middle of my flight when an anoucment came on "Everyone will need to stay in their seats" I thought to myself "thats odd, there has been no tubulance this whole flight." I brushed it off, little did I know this was going to be one of the craziest days of my entire life. I started to feel tired and I closed my eyes to take a nap. Around two hours later I woke up, when I wake up I ask the person beside me what time is it... no response, I look in his eyes and... just a blank stare. I ask again "Hello can you hear me?" Still just a blank stare. I press the flight atendent button, instantly the hairs on the back on my neck start rising as I see the flight atendent walk out... with a blank stare. When she gets to my row she turns her head at a 90° angle and looks down at me and she says "what would you like?" I respond "I would like to go to the bathroom but i didnt know if we still had to stay in our seats." All she said was "You stay in your seats until told otherwise." I finally remember to ask for the time but before I get to say anything she walks away. Then I remember that we had tv and I try and turn it on but it didnt work. Around 30 to 40 minutes pass, I wouldn't know because I dont know what time it is and I'm getting really impatient to go to the bathroom. Then I try and get up but as soon as I get up and flight atendent identical to the one I saw earlier walked over to me turned her head and said "You will stay seated until you are told otherwise" I wait around 10 ish minutes and try again to get up but again she comes walking down the isle and turns her head with red in her eyes and shouts "YOU WILL STAY SEATED UNTIL TOLD OTHERWISE" I'm just frozen in place and all I can think of is ways to escape and I keep thinking about jus opening the door and jumping out........ I'm gonna do it I think to myself. I get up and start running as quick as I can and shove pass the flight atendent and I look over my shoulder and every one has a blank stare and I get to the door and jump... when I jump there is nothing no ocean, not sky, no sun. And then as quick as it started it ended... with the ticket girl saying enjoy your flight.. who I now realize she looks identical to the flight atendent... |
My mom was awake around 3:30am and she hear a noise witch to her sounded as if someone was building up to crying. She thought it was me so she checked on me and I was asleep. I said it might have been the neighbours kid when she told me the story but she said it sounded like it was in the house (we live in a attached house so sometimes we can hear the neighbours)but she said it didn't sound muffled through the wall and was to loud to be nextdoor and was in the house upstairs. |
The way that a thought can nest its way into your mind is curious to think about. The way it can become so deeply ingrained in oneself that it becomes a very part of them, a part of who they are as a person. It tugs on the very neurons in their brain as if they are the strings of a puppet, or the buttons of a machine. Thoughts can consume you if you let them - Just try not to think about it.
It is this very concept that consumed my best friend. A thought so impalpable that she spent her days trying to understand it, trying to reason with it, and letting it merge with her life.
Maya ran *The Twisted Bloom* - A quaint, quiet florist. She took over after her sister, Brooke, went missing a few years ago. She had helped out here and there whilst Brooke had been around, so she was familiar with the logistics of the place. I myself had also helped here and there, both under Brooke's ownership and Maya's. But last month, as I was unloading a box of flowers and bringing them inside, Maya said something strange.
"She still whispers to me, through the petals."
In hindsight, this is where everything began. But at the time, it was a beautiful thought - Perhaps Brooke really was still watching over us, using her passion for nature as the way through.
"We all miss her," I smiled gently as I spoke, "I also feel closer to her when I'm around flowers. It's like she's still here."
"She is." Maya spoke this time not with the beauty of a metaphor, or the comfort of a belief. She spoke with certainty, as though she had spoken to Brooke. She seemed dismissive of my sentiment, almost offended and angry that I had implied it to be comforting.
I didn't speak further, I just nodded, and continued helping. She had lost her sister - I had no reason to think her words were anything more than grief and finding her own comfort. Or maybe I just don't want to blame myself for not noticing.
Before taking over *The Twisted Bloom*, Maya had studied chemistry. She wanted to be a Pharmaceutical Researcher - Experimenting and studying drugs to create new breakthroughs in the medical field. I always envied her decisiveness of job choice. I always found it so difficult to decide what I wanted to do with my life, or who I wanted to be. I always told myself that as adulthood came around, I'd realise the answer. But nobody tells you that adulthood doesn't just happen one day - It's gradual; The epiphany moment never came, and even as an adult, I have no idea where I want to go with my life.
I think Maya felt that continuing the florist was essential, and she gave up on her chosen career. She never specifically said it, but I know it must have been hard on her. To not only lose her sister, but to lose everything she had planned. But running that place brought her comfort in continuing what Brooke had started, and I couldn't fault her for that. Brooke loved nature, and to let her love dissipate even after she had left this world just felt wrong for Maya.
One way that Maya found to combine her interest with *The Twisted Bloom* was by using chemistry to help the environment. A few years ago, before Brooke went missing, she had been developing a solution that sped up decomposition, and provided nutrients for plant life. She soaked a piece of paper in it, and threw some seeds on top. The following morning, the paper was unrecognisable, as a rectangle of flowers bloomed in its place.
It was beautiful. Brooke found it so exciting.
A few weeks ago, Maya told me she was working on the solution more. "I don't want it to be painful," she spoke solemnly, "that was an issue with the previous version."
Curiously, I asked, "Plants feel pain?"
"All living things feel."
I didn't like the way she was speaking. Something about it just felt off. She sounded sorry, and remorseful. She's never been the spiritual type, so hearing her say something like this was very out of character. Still, though, I only saw it as her emotions taking control. I had no reason to be suspicious.
As the weeks went on, she said more and more ominous things. Always about Brooke, or flowers, or both.
I knew something was really wrong when she closed *The Twisted Bloom* last week. Even odder is that she didn't close it to focus on anything new - She stayed in the shop, working on her solution, and staring at the plants. Sometimes I'd even catch her talking to them. "You look beautiful, sister."
I tried to talk to her about it, but she was always so dismissive. She stopped even letting me inside, claiming I was making Brooke uncomfortable.
Yesterday, she stopped responding to texts or calls. Today, I dropped by *The Twisted Bloom, and I couldn't even see her through the window. Worried about her health, I broke a window around the back. Some of the shards of glass sliced my hand, but I was too focused to pay it much attention. I climbed through.
"Maya?" I yelled through the store - There were clear signs of life, as all the lights were on, and her equipment was still out in the back room. Yet no reply shouted back.
"Maya, please answer me." I wanted a reply, though did not expect one. My heart pounded loudly, almost too loud to even hear a response if I did get one.
I searched around the store - Everything looked normal. The plants were well taken care of, and music gently played from a radio on the counter. I walked over to turn it off - Despite how quiet the music was, I still wanted absolute silence whilst I searched. Yet, as the silence began, I noticed a pile of flowers behind the counter. Where Maya usually stood to serve customers was now covered in nature. Beautiful, yet misplaced. Every petal and stem looked healthy in all but their location. Why were they on the floor?
As I knelt down to get a closer look, I noticed that each flower seemed to twist, weave, and tangle into the shape of a person laying down. The face resembled Maya, a single stem showing her smile, with many more intricately woven to shape each individual feature of her appearance. It looked like a sculpture, an art piece. I wanted it to be.
"Maya," I shouted into the air that now seemed thick, "when did you make this?"
I put a hand on the counter to steady myself as I stood back up, feeling a burning sensation in my open wound. Glancing over showed the cause - A tipped-over bottle of Maya's invention, liquid spread over the counter. Liquid that was now in my blood.
She didn't manage to fix the pain problem.
|
Me |
In the quiet depths of our secluded military outpost, I, Commander Alexander Shaw, was known for my steely resolve and unwavering commitment to duty. A veteran of countless battles, I had seen horrors that few could fathom. But nothing could have prepared me for the strange and chilling events that were about to unfold.
One moonlit night, a messenger arrived at the outpost bearing a sealed envelope. The messenger was haggard, eyes wide with fear. He handed the envelope to me, his hands trembling. "They said you must follow these rules," the messenger whispered, his voice quivering.
Confused, I broke the wax seal and opened the envelope. Inside, I found a list of rules written in an elegant, yet unsettling script:
**Rule 1:** Never venture into the forest after dark.
**Rule 2:** Always keep a lit candle by your side at all times.
**Rule 3:** Lock all windows and doors before sunset.
**Rule 4:** Do not speak of the shadows that move in the corner of your vision.
**Rule 5:** Beware the sound of distant laughter; it's closer than you think.
**Rule 6:** When the wind howls, extinguish all flames.
**Rule 7:** If you see a reflection that doesn't mimic your movements, close your eyes.
As I read the rules, a shiver ran down my spine. They were utterly bizarre, almost nonsensical, yet an unsettling feeling gnawed at the back of my mind. I dismissed them as an elaborate prank or a product of a tired mind, and yet, I couldn't shake off the unease they had stirred within me.
Days turned into weeks, and as I went about my duties, I couldn't help but notice the shadows that seemed to dance at the edge of my vision. I tried to rationalize it as fatigue, but the feeling persisted. I followed the rules half-heartedly, keeping a lit candle by my side and locking the doors each evening.
One fateful night, curiosity got the better of me. I decided to venture into the forest after dark, convinced that the rules were nothing more than superstitious nonsense. As I stepped beneath the canopy of trees, the darkness enveloped me like a suffocating embrace. The trees seemed to whisper secrets, and the wind carried eerie whispers that made my skin crawl.
Suddenly, a distant laughter echoed through the woods. It was a sound that sent icy tendrils down my spine. I hurriedly lit a candle, but the flame flickered and dimmed as if straining against an invisible force. Panic gripped me, and I stumbled back, my heart racing.
As I retreated, the shadows around me seemed to come alive, writhing and twisting in unnatural ways. The laughter grew louder, echoing all around me. With a surge of fear, I realized that I had broken one of the rules, and the consequences were unfolding before my eyes.
I turned to run, but something caught my eye. A reflection in a puddle that didn't mimic my movements. Trembling, I closed my eyes as the laughter grew deafening. When I opened them again, I found myself standing in a twisted, nightmarish version of the forest. The trees were gnarled and twisted, and the ground was covered in a layer of frost.
Desperation consumed me as I realized I was trapped in a realm of darkness and shadows, a place beyond comprehension. The rules were no longer mere instructions; they were the keys to surviving this otherworldly nightmare. But it was too late. The laughter surrounded me, a cacophony of voices that seemed to come from every direction.
As the laughter closed in, my sanity began to unravel. I clung to the remaining shreds of my rationality, desperately trying to remember the rules. I closed my eyes and whispered them to myself, hoping that they would be my salvation.
But the laughter grew louder, merging with my own terrified screams. The darkness enveloped me completely, and I was consumed by a maelstrom of shadows and fear.
Back at the military outpost, the sealed envelope lay untouched on my desk. Days turned into weeks, and my absence remained a mystery. Some whispered that I had ventured into the forbidden forest, while others dismissed it as mere rumors.
And yet, on moonlit nights, when the wind howled and the shadows danced, the outpost was haunted by a distant laughter that sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. And somewhere, lost in the darkness, my tortured soul became a part of the haunting symphony, forever trapped in a realm where the rules of reality were twisted beyond recognition. |
Do you have a scary story you'd like to have narrated or turned into a video?
If so, submit it to our subreddit r/sandmansnightmares!
We accept any and all story submissions and we'll be sure to do your story justice! |
I don't know if you're gonna belive me this story and I'm also sorry if my englisch is bad but I'm living in Germany
So at first I meet up at my cousins house and we were bored so we started do think what we should do and I remembered about the app Randonautica.
I downloaded the App and searched for a location.It gave me a location about 1 hour away and we decide to go there.
On the way we saw that that we go in the woods but this fact didn't stoped us to go to the location.
After a couple a minutes the road stoped and there was a big gate that we couldn't pass and there also was a big sign "Private Propriety".
We saw on the maps app that we could pass this gate by walking on a field and we did it.
When we got nearly to our location we saw that we couldn't go forward because there was a river that cut the side of the woods and the side of the field and because of that we stoped there and tok out our phone and zoomed nearly to our location.
We saw a big house made of metal and we woundered why there is smth like that in the middle of a fiel/woods.
After a couple of minutes we lightet a cig and set down pn this field and watched the river but the we heared some whistles and somoane who screamed something but we didn't understand what it said.
After we heard it we begane to run for a couple of minutes and then we walked again on the road in the woods.After we walked for couple of minutes we looked behind us and saw a man walking behind us.We didn't stop and walked a lil bit faster than him so that we couldn't see h after about 1 mile .
After that we saw a bench and we set downon it and thinked about what happened . We sat there for about 30 minutes and after that 30 minutes we tought about the fact that the man needed to go past us in this tome but it didn't
so when we were near of my cousins house we saw the man again and started to run in our house because we got a little bit scared.
Yeah so what do you think about it?
I don't belive in ghosts or smth like that but do you think we should go there again an invastigate the place better or not? |
Install this app, Watch and download "The Ring" at no cost. |
null |
Before i tell the story i just want to say that this is my first post so dont expect much
#x200B;
The party just ended, it was 1am and i started driving back home, i was exhausted.
While i was driving home i almost fell asleep a few times, and eventually i actually fell asleep.
I hit something that woke me up, i was scared cuz there was nothing on the road.
My car was broken and i had to walk home, my house was to far so i had to find a hotel.
I was walking for 8 minutes until i heard something in the bushes, i ignored it.
A few minutes later i heard it again and again, i was creeped out but i continued walking until i saw i
figure in the forest staring at me, i started walking faster and faster.
When i finally found a hotel i asked if i could stay the night there, luckly i could.
I went to my room and took a shower so i could get to bed.
I woke up at 2am cuz i heard a woman scream outside the hotel, i ignored it and went back to sleep.
The same thing happend at 3am but i heard the scream even closer.
It happend every hour cuz i woke up again at 4am but i heard the scream in the hotel, i freaked out
and didnt know what to do, but i fell asleep, but it happened again at 5am but i heard the same
woman crying in the room next to me, i was still scared but decided to check it out.
I got to the door and looked through the keyhole and saw the same figure i saw while walking crying
on the ground, she slowly turned her head and looked at me, my heart was raising but i asked :''why
are you here?''
#x200B;
Thats what i saw in his diary, i was in the hotel the night this happend, he died
#x200B; |
for most of my life i’ve had this thought that lingers in my mind and will just pop up every so often. this thought seems irregular but i feel most people have had this thought but aren’t driven by it like i am. anyways, here goes nothing. have you ever had reoccurring nightmares that you remember so vividly like it really happened? this is similar to what i’m going to explain. i’ll be straightforward, i don’t believe i’m real. i believe i’m actually sleeping right now and my whole life is somewhat of a dream but also a nightmare. i always think of this. nothing feels genuinely real. one day i think i’m gonna wake up, young again to my mother saying “it’s time for school” realizing all that’s ever happened in my “life” was just a reoccurring nightmare. there have been times in my life where i literally don’t feel real at all. i don’t know how to explain this and i don’t know if this is normal or if something is wrong with me, but my life feels fake. please someone give some sort of explanation, i’m desperate to understand why this mentality runs through my head and so randomly too. |
I’ve heard from a mutual that you’d like to move out to the countryside. They told me you want some place quiet, away from the rat race, more affordable even. I’m the last person on earth to tell anyone what to do with their lives, really, but I have to give you my two cents for this. There is a lot of *Nothing* in between the cities.
You might not have heard of it, it happened a semester before you joined. It was the Davies expedition. A group of about twenty-five researchers, mostly students, from our college that went out to collect some data. They all vanished, all but one. That one was me. If you didn’t already know, I’m not surprised. I don’t like talking about it, but if it can change your mind about the move I will.
The Davies expedition was named after my friend, and its lead, Howard P. Davies. He was only a year older than me, but several years my academic senior. He was young for a department head, and had multiple fields of focus. I didn’t then, and still don’t entirely understand Davies’ research. We weren’t even relatively close in fields of study. So I was a little confused when he asked me to come along the expedition. He told me that he had enough researchers to do the work, but needed more bodies to carry the equipment. It was going to be a short trip, two days at most, and it would pay well. Of course I said yes.
The canyon we were going to was in a heavily protected wilderness. So protected we arrived with a government escort. They picked us up in huge cars with wheels that were almost as tall as I was. The escort took us down a heavily wooded valley that ran between two monstrous mountains. It had a crystal clear river running through it too. It was like being inside a painting at the louvre. That all ended at the canyon.
There was a clear line drawn between the rest of the valley, and the canyon. The tree line stopped, and the grass stopped growing. Only the river kept going, because it couldn’t be stopped. I picked up my share of the equipment and looked over the edge.
The canyon itself was relatively narrow at the top, but widened at the bottom. It was really more like an underground cave, but there was more than enough sunlight coming through to light the entire area. So here comes the first oddity I noticed. I should have been able to see the whole breadth of the canyon, but looking too far down or up its length the light would disappear. I was sure that the sun should have been able to light up the whole of the bottom, but it just didn’t. It wasn’t a normal kind of dark either, it was almost blinding. Like there was *Nothing* there. It was hard on the eyes. I blinked a couple times and grouped up with the rest.
I noticed that none of the people with the escort were getting off.
“Isn’t anyone going to stick around?” I asked
“No sir,” said the man.
“What about animals? I thought you’d leave someone behind in case of animal attacks or something.”
“There aren’t any animals around here.”
No animals? This far from humanity and he was telling me there were no animals? I could hardly believe it. I wanted to ask him more, but the government men were on a timetable and they were sticking to it. My mind was buzzing, not quite alarm bells, but thinking hard. I watched the escort leave, thinking I should probably have left with them. I watched them until they were completely gone.
My mind got snapped back to the here and now when the expedition let out yowls and cheers. Apparently Davies had given a speech and I had missed it because I was too busy wishing I’d left with the escort.
The expedition started shuffling to the edge of the canyon and I followed. The walls of the canyon actually had some pretty nice natural stairs along its walls. They almost looked carved. The canyon was deeper than it looked too. It would take us most of the day to get down to the bottom.
I took one step down and in the blink of a second I was at the bottom with Davies' hand on my shoulder. It was disorienting, one moment stepping down, the next second on flat ground. Even the shadows shifted, it must have been later in the day.
“You weren’t listening earlier, were you?” said Davies.
“What–”
“Happened?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s basically highway hypnosis. Something about this place lets you really lose yourself. Have you noticed the air?”
I hadn’t, no, but when prompted I realized that I couldn’t feel the air. Down here the air was skin temperature. It was like being in a sensory deprivation tank.
“I can see you have now,” said Davies. “What about the quiet, awfully quiet right?”
It wasn’t quiet. It was the absence of sound. Totally and utterly, I couldn’t believe it, and it shouldn’t have been possible. For one, sounds should have been echoing between the canyon walls, and second was my mild tinnitus. After attending one concert too many I was stuck with some mild ringing in my ears. If it got too quiet it was hard not to notice, but not here. I was put into a stupor.
“It’s okay, you’re not losing. It’s hard to notice *Nothing*, right?” he smiled. I’m not sure how he could be so at ease. This place was unsettling. “Come on, it’s fine. I think it’s a little creepy too. Let’s just set up our gear, get our measurements, and we’ll be out of here in a couple days.”
A couple days. I dreaded the thought. Davies put me at ease though. He was probably just putting on a brave face. If the expedition lead is panicking then how can you ever be at calm, right? Davies gave me the cliff notes on working around here. Basically I had to be mindful of the noise, and the people around me. Keep your mind focused on them and you won’t enter that trance-like autopilot. I did as instructed and before long I had managed to put off my mind from the unsettling aspects of the canyon. The sounds of everyone working to set up our camp was comforting.
When the set up work was done, everyone gathered around the kitchen area. The kitchen had a fire going, and everyone welcomed the relative heat vs the *Nothing* of the air around the rest of the camp. You could be mindful of the smell of food too. Everyone was bunched up there, chatting with more volume than needed. We wanted to fill the area with sound, because the quiet was dreadful, haunting.
Night time arrived soon after though, and with it, a deeper *Nothing* than before. While the area around the camp had been well lit by the sun, that void of light I had seen from above was still present. The camp was surrounded by *Nothing* on either side. It was somehow worse at night too, because you had real darkness to compare it too. Real darkness was dark, black, a lack of light. The void on either side was Nothing, an absence of reality on either side.
One by one people dropped off to sleep, prepping for the next day. It happened slowly because we were all reluctant to leave the campfire and head for our tents. Little by little though, people did leave, and soon it was just me and one other student. A girl named Sasha.
Neither of us wanted to get away from the fire. We were terrified, but also tired. We couldn’t keep the fire going forever either. We needed to save fuel for our last night tomorrow. She did the hard part for both of us, snapping to her feet and dowsing the fire then quickly retreating to sit beside me. We tried to make idle chatter, just to keep the quiet away, but to little use.
“Don’t you think there’s something wrong with the sky?” she said.
Internally I cursed her. Why would you say something like that, in this place, on a night like this. I looked up, just briefly, terrified of what I might see. It was just a regular night sky.
“No?” I replied.
“Good,” she said, a little relieved. “Good. I’m going to bed.”
She didn’t get up though, she fluffed up her backpack and laid her head on it. I gave her a reluctant good night, and fluffed up my own backpack.
Was there something wrong with the sky? I asked myself, cursing her again. Why would she even put that thought out there. I took one last look at the sky before I let sleep take me. No, I thought, the sky is fine. It looks just like it does back home.
The next day was much smoother than the first. A quiet settled into the camp, but most of us, including myself didn’t mind. In no time at all we had grown accustomed to it, and had relaxed our active mindfulness. It helped to know that it was our last night there. I was tasked with setting up cumbersome equipment, building and tearing it down for the researchers. When I wasn’t needed, I passed the time hanging out with Davies, who had some free time himself since most of his job was just overseeing the work of others.
“So…,” I started to ask Davies, “what is this place?” Like I said, I wasn’t in his department, had no clue what he was studying. I didn’t understand what we were doing here.
“For starters, it’s not just this place,” said Davies.”
There’s places like this all over the U.S.. We don’t have a name for them yet, I’m thinking something like ‘Null Zones’.”
“So then these places are…?”
“Right now they’re just holes in data. Nothing more, really. I noticed them while looking at a colleague's work. They had been collecting data on animal populations. They had notes on population locations and their spreads. Something seemed familiar so I pinned those populations on a map and noticed these empty pockets. Moreover I recognized these pockets too, from collections of meteorological data. I decided to find other data sets that I could map out and recognized similar empty pockets in all of them.”
In other words. *Nothing*. Davies had recognized a whole lotta *Nothing*.
I recalled what the government man had told me. No animals in this area. This place was a void. One of Davies’ empty pockets, a Null Zone. It was *Nothing*.
Before I could ask more, a researcher interrupted us to tell Davies that Sasha had gone missing. The girl I had spent the last of the previous night with. When Davies and the other researcher had caused an uproar about Sasha, everyone else began to note that their respective partners had gone missing as well. All of us had been in a stupor, let our guard down just a little too much. Davies gathered the entire expedition together to count heads. In the course of the day, we had lost just over half the expedition.
Everyone, minus the researcher who told Davies about Sasha, had the same story. They had been hard at work on their tasks since morning, and when Davies snapped them back to reality with his uproar, noticed that their fellow researchers had disappeared in the blink of an eye. One second there, the other second, gone.
There was a panic in the remaining members of the expedition, but Davies kept a cool head. He knew, as well as I, that the first twenty-four hours that someone is missing, are the most important. Every hour they weren’t being searched for increased the likelihood they wouldn’t be found alive. I saw him dig into his backpack for a satellite phone. Myself and a few others had been entrusted with one in the case of emergencies. His face turned sour. I fished out my sat phone as well and knew why. Down here in the canyon, we had no signal.
Davies had seen me fruitlessly try and make a call with the sat phone. We looked at each other and knew that someone would have to go up top to make the emergency call, to get a search party as soon as possible. To be clear, the horror of the situation hadn’t escaped us. People had gone missing in the middle of the day, in the middle of camp, without anyone noticing. The practical reality of the situation however, kept us grounded.
Ultimately Davies made the executive decision as expedition lead, to go back up the canyon alone. Such a decision wouldn’t have been necessary except that the trip back up would take longer than the trip down, and it was already mid day. Whoever went up, would be climbing a steep canyon wall in the middle of the night.
Davies got ready to leave, gathering the minimum to make the trip, just a lamp and some dry rations. A few others had decided to join him, citing that it would be safer to make the trip together, but in truth, I’m sure they just wanted to leave this place as soon as possible.
So that was that. One part of the expedition would stay behind to make the safer climb at dawn tomorrow and the other would go up the canyon to get help as soon as possible. I said my goodbyes to Davies, and it was hard. It would be the last time I ever saw Davies again.
When he left, I was too tired to cry, or do much of anything. So were the others. There were about ten of us left then, down from a team of about twenty-four. Night came, and with it more dread. We lit the campfire as soon as an inkling of dark came over the canyon. We all gathered around the campfire.
I looked up the canyon wall, searching for Davies’ team. They should have been somewhat visible in the darkness of the canyon since they would be making the climb assisted by lamp light, but I saw nothing. Then again I had made the trip down in a trance, and did not know the path up. I held on to the thought that perhaps the way up curved around corners that you couldn’t see at night time. I patted my thoughts with the idea that Davies was just out of sight, somewhere up there, climbing back up the canyon walls.
Time passed in laps of awareness. We all tried to maintain the mindfulness that Davies had instructed us in, but it was growing increasingly hard. There was also the issue of those of us that remained. No one wanted to acknowledge it, but we were all gathered around the fire and there were fewer and fewer of us than before. At that time I counted six left. All of them worried, and panicked in their silent isolated bubbles. We had been quietly losing people since Davies’ team had left.
The fire started to die some time later. The fuel was dwindling, and soon we would be left alone with the darkness and the void on either side. We would be stuck down here with the *Nothing* that surrounded us.That’s when it hit me. Just as the fire died, it hit me. There was something wrong with the sky. We were far into a great protected wilderness. Far and away from civilization, there wasn’t any light pollution. SO WHERE WERE THE STARS.
We should have been able to see the milky way out here, billions upon billions of stars should have been twinkling in the sky but there were hardly any. Just a few miserable twinkles.
“Where are the stars!?” I tried to scream, but nothing came out. I looked to the others, frenzy clear on my face just as it was on theirs. They had made the same realization, the terror was clear on their faces. It was the last I saw of the others. The fire died out, and I only had the miserable few stars to keep company. There were so few I could count them, and they were blinking out of existence. The night sky was turning into a great blanket of *Nothing* right before my eyes.
I must have willed myself to stand up and run. Despite the loss of all my senses I must have run. The air was indistinguishable from my skin, there was no noise, there was no sight. I had only my mind, and the faintest inkling of self left. Somehow I stood up and ran, I know it, and it saved me.
The rescue party found me later the next day, babbling near a waterfall. At a guess, I must have run toward the booming sound of the river up top crashing into the canyon below. They found me screaming, spouting random gibberish, any noise to keep away the nothing.
Later, much later, when suspicions of foul play had been cleared, I was allowed to read Davies’ journal, which had been swiftly recovered but kept for evidence. I tried to read through it, but as I said I wasn’t in his field and understood little. What little I could understand was most of what I had experienced myself. There was only one more horror waiting for me at the end of his notes.
*The Null Zones were moving.*
In his notes. I quote.
“Conclusion: More in depth study needed, original hypothesis invalidated. Originally I thought the Null Zones spawned away from large population centers, but the readings here suggest that they *migrated*. Rather than large population centers being built away from the Null Zones as I hypothesized, it was the Null Zones that had been “chased away” by the life of large cities.”
They move. Places like the canyon move. So I beg you to take me seriously friend, do not move out to the countryside. You may be fine for a while, but one day you might wake to the peace and serenity is just the absence of sound. You may even notice that the air seems strange, and wonder when the last time you saw any wildlife was. By then it would probably already be too late. Stay in the city friend, where it’s safe from the *Nothing*. |
This is 100% real story that happened to me in my childhood. This story is not actually scary, just a weird moment in my life, for which i can't find any physical/logical explanation
Around 2008-2009 (i was born in 2000) me and other boys from the street were playing with phone of one of boys. We were filming goofy videos and just hanging around. Then boy with the camera turned Invert effect on (it's when everything is black and white, but bright colors are portrayed darker and darker colors are portrayed brighter). We continued filming some goofy movies until one who was holding the camera called us to look at what he is filming. Everything on the screen was black and white as it should be, except something behind the big tree we were standing next to. There was nothing actually behind this tree in reality, but on camera there was a pretty big sphere of orange light floating at circa 50cm height. This couldn't be phone screen glitch, because when we were moving around the tree still filming the sphere, it was staying behind tree where it was, like it was actual physical object.
I remember this moment very clear and was thinking of it since childhood, also other boys seen it too and i wasn't afraid at all, which means it wasn't hallucination. The older i was getting, the more i was thinking of this event and understanding how odd it is. I was thinking what could possibly cayse this effect and i haven't found any physical explanation on how this could happen. |
Ever since I was born on October 13, 2006, there has been something different about me. VERY different. I always showed aggressive behavior like biting, scratching, etc. Especially at night.
When it is 10 pm every night, things sort of just, went blank. I can’t control what I do, I don’t even remember anything. I’m just sort of there. But what happened last year has gone to far though.
I got ready for bed like anyone else at around 9:30. Then I went to my room to go to bed, or try to at least, then locked the door. Then 30 minutes later, 10:00 hit and that’s when it begins. I heard voices, they told me to do things, bad things. When I didn’t do it, i fall out of control, my body moves like a puppet and the demons are the masters.
They made me walk unlock the door, they made me leave the room, they made me go into the hall, they made me go into the kitchen. I opened the drawer of knives, they chose the biggest, the sharpest, one.
I remember entering the living room, and walking up to the dog, Marcus, a golden doodle, then that’s when things started getting blurry, as I approached him, I heard my heart beating, faster, faster, and faster, my ears were ringing, the voices got louder. Then I held the knife up high, and as hard as I could, I stabbed him and he let out a yelp, and I kept doing it. There was blood everywhere, on my clothes, on the floor, and on the walls.
My parents must have heard all the ruckus because they came into the living room, of course they new about how different I was from everyone else, but it never got to this point. When I turned around, I saw their looks of horror, tears fell from their eyes. Me on the other hand, had a blank face, no emotion, absolutely nothing. No guilt, no sadness, no anger.
Then things got blurry again, the voices spoke more, heart beating faster. I stood up, not breaking any eye contact, and slowly walked towards them. I tried my hardest not to obey, not to move, to drop the knife, but they did it for me. They made me walk. Then my parents started to back away from me, they feared me. Then I held the knife up again, getting ready to stab them, but then everything went dark. Blank. I passed out.
I woke up the next morning, not in my room, not in my house, not anywhere familiar. My head hurt really bad too. The room was white, the floor was tiled, the bed sheets were white as well. Then I realized something, I was in a hospital, an asylum.
Then I came to the conclusion that my younger brother must have hit my head hard that caused me to pass out. Then my parents must have drove me here while I was asleep, most likely tied up.
Now, a year later, I’m still at this place, they let me have my phone for an hour everyday so I wanted to tell someone about it. I don’t get many visits from my family, they are afraid still. I regret what I did badly, they think I’m insane, but it wasn’t me that did it. It was the demons in my mind. It’s there fault, I was trying to stop them, I shouldn’t be here. Now I got to go now, my phone is gonna get taken away soon. Goodbye. |
When I first heard it, it scared me.
The scratching.
A soft scraping sound echoing in the silence of my darkened bedroom, right above my head. It would barely be audible during the morning, when I was on my computer or reading a book, but at night, it was the only sound I could hear.
As I laid under my covers, the sheets pulled as far as possible in order to take in as much warmth as I could, I would still be shivering. All because of that damn scratching. The soft raking, to me, sounded like rats scurrying, devouring a scrap of food. It made bedtime tense, unnerving. I feared if I even so much as glanced up to see what it was, a monster would attack me, and tear me apart in grisly fashion.
Ultimately, this fear was irrational.
One night, I finally gained the courage to take a glance. Slowly, I lifted myself from my pillow, cautiously turning around to take a peek. Immediately, any fear I felt evaporated when I saw what the source of the scratching was.
It was the warning label attached to the end of the string for the blinds in my bedroom. Wind from my ceiling fan was lightly blowing on it, making it brush against the wall, as the string stretched down past the blinds.
I felt so dumb. I was already in high school, and a fucking piece of plastic raking along a wall scared me?
I really was a wuss.
After that, the scratching became a sort of comfort to me. Now that I knew what it was, the unknown part, something that is considered scary by most of humanity, was no longer unknown. It was familiar, a sound I was used to, comforted me. I began to find it soothing, and would begin to find my eyes growing heavy as I laid in my bed, my mind blank, listening to scratching and the whirring of my ceiling fan, letting their combined noise lull me into sleep.
It was nice.
One night, as usual, I laid in bed, the covers pulled up to my chin, my ceiling fan blaring and the scratching doing its thing. As I felt myself about to go under, the scratching stopped. That wasn’t unusual. I don’t know what the reason was, but I’m sure the fan wouldn’t be hitting it with its wind at every single moment. Maybe my pillow blocked it? Maybe the wind sometimes didn’t hit it in the right place? Something like that.
Soon though, the scratching started up again, as it always did. Right when I could feel the process of going to sleep coming to completion, I realized something. There was something different about the scratching. Usually, it was slow, closer to light-raking. It was also quiet, only being audible to me due to how silent it was in my bedroom at night.
Now though? It was louder, more erratic. Not only that, but it seemed to be increasing in volume, becoming more and more grating. No longer did it sound like a scurrying rat. It now sounded like someone was scraping a knife along the wall.
Alarmed, I threw off my covers, flipping onto my stomach to see….
Two long, bony, gray arms, one gripping the warning label in its hand to keep it in place, the other raking its sharp, almost knife-like nails along the drywall of the wall near my head, leaving deep scratches.
|
I went on a walk at night with my friends, thinking nothing of it. What I saw in the coming day has scarred me for life.
My name is James Broughton and I am a 16 year old boy who lives in Colorado. I’ve lived in the same neighborhood all my life- a neighborhood full of older people and barely anybody my age. A rather small neighborhood, but full of wealthy people and owners of businesses.
I never had many friends. I go to a small school with some teachers that don’t even have their degree. My parents have very different sides. My mom is the owner of a bank, the only bank in my small town. Everyone uses it, of course, and that’s where we get our money from. My dad, however, had a very different upbringing. He was born here, but in the other side of our small town. A much more poor part, with a large homeless population and barely any businesses.
When we moved here, my dad had always heard noises from outside, like singing and humming, but it was hard to believe in our old and quiet neighborhood, at least according to my mom. She always tells my dad to think with his brain and be more conscious, rather than trying to scare me.
One night I woke up from sleeping to an off feeling. The air felt different- I don’t know how to explain it. It just felt off. I walked outside my room to see my dad staring through our window next to our front door. “Do you hear that, James?” He asked me, “please don’t tell me I’m crazy.” I approached the window and put my ear to the cold glass. I now knew my dad wasn’t paranoid or crazy- he’s been right the whole time. He told me to never EVER go out at night. I was hesitant to go back to sleep that night. The humming and singing echoed in my head all night long.
I then woke up- but I didn’t feel like I was ever in a sleeping state. I got up and walked out to an empty living room. It was utter silence. It felt insanely eerie. I called my mom to make sure everything was okay, which she made sure it was. She knew I suffered with anxiety, so it felt good to be assured everything would be okay. She then let my friends over, which I knew would clear my mind.
I explained to my friends what had been happening around my neighborhood. They were eager to begin looking around. We all collectively decided to go on a walk at night around my neighborhood.
11:56 PM
About 5 minutes in, just finishing going down our hill, we heard a loud bang, almost like a gunshot. We then heard cheering. I had no idea what could’ve been going down in my extremely quiet neighborhood.
12:01 AM
My 3 friends and I began walking to the end of our neighborhood as the singing and cheering became louder. Our hands started shaking and I started suggesting that we should go back, but one of my friends insisted that we were almost to a dead end, and after we get down there we could go back and explain to my family what we heard.
12:04 AM
We had reached the end of my neighborhood, and the noises had peaked. We were about to turn back before we noticed that every house in the neighborhood was pitch black. We didn’t think much of it, considering everybody is probably asleep, but we kept investigating.
12:07 AM
Blood. We all gasped as we found a blood trail along the curb going into the forest. I knew where the forest led to, I’ve lived here long enough. It was a field, a very wide field that was going to be a casino but they cancelled construction at the last second. Our intrusive thoughts won and we walked through the trail of blood, and the cheering got so loud that our ears started ringing. I told my friends to have 911 on speed dial just in case.
12:12 AM
There it was. A group of people lined up in a circle, dancing. My first thoughts were that we just accidentally walked in on a cult. Which I was partially right. As we got closer to take a picture, my friend’s phone automatically switched to flash because of how dark it was outside. A few of the members saw us. We immediately panicked, torn between running away or hiding behind trees.
12:16 AM
They approached us, in masks with the eyes marked out with red paint. Covered in black with suits and gloves. My heart skipped several beats, but I knew I couldn’t just surrender and await whatever punishment this cult or whatever it is gives me. I told my friends to dial 911, even though there was no way there was any service. I am about to risk my life.
12:18 AM
I sprinted across the field, yelling and cursing knowing this is where my life ends. Multiple cult members chased me. A mix of tears and sweat came down my face. I then got tackled by one of the masked men. He started yelling at me in a foreign language. I fought and screamed for help, but the men put duct tape over my mouth.
12:20 AM
The main man who appeared to be the leader of the cult backed off of me and loaded his shotgun. He pointed it at me with the other 4 men at his side with assault rifles. I closed my eyes, knowing this was the end. BANG! A sniper rifle bullet went clean through the leader’s head. Multiple men in gear that looked like US special forces moved in, shooting the remaining men that tracked me down. I heard helicopters fly by with men dropping down in full gear and guns.
12:22 AM
I glanced over, shocked to see my father also in full gear walk towards me with a sniper rifle in his hands. He lifted me up, “son, what did I say about being outside at night?” He asked me, looking more worried than angry. I was so confused.
1 DAY LATER
My friends are gone. They were captured by the terrorist organization that is known all around the world. They have groups all across North America, hunting people and attempting to overthrow governments. My dad is the leader of a US special forces group that hunts down these groups. It turns out my mom never was super wealthy, in fact, she’s actually unemployed. This town isn’t even a real town. It’s a setup to kill these people. |
The abandoned sanatorium stood on the outskirts of town, shrouded in mist and mystery. Amelia, a curious journalist, was drawn to its chilling history. Stories of unspeakable experiments and tortured souls lingered in the air, urging her to uncover the truth.
Amelia’s footsteps echoed through the empty halls as she ventured deeper into the darkness. Shadows danced at the edges of her vision, and an icy breeze brushed against her skin, carrying faint whispers that sent shivers down her spine.
A flickering light led her to a room filled with old medical equipment. As Amelia glanced around, the machinery seemed to come to life, emitting eerie sounds of labored breathing and faint cries. Her heart raced as she realized she was not alone.
Voices whispered unintelligible words, growing louder and more frantic. Amelia’s thoughts blurred, and she felt herself losing grip on reality. Desperate to escape the cacophony, she stumbled out of the room, only to find the corridor had transformed into an endless labyrinth.
Time became a haze as Amelia wandered aimlessly, the walls closing in on her. Each turn she took seemed to bring her back to the same intersection. Panic settled in, gnawing at her mind as the whispers intensified, becoming accusatory and malicious.
Amelia’s reflection in a cracked mirror showed a face contorted with fear. The mirror shattered, and her reflection grinned, its eyes gleaming with malevolence. She screamed, the sound swallowed by the suffocating silence that followed.
Faint memories surfaced – memories that weren’t hers. Faces of the sanatorium’s tormented patients flashed before her eyes. Their pain and suffering seeped into her consciousness, threatening to consume her sanity.
A door materialized before her, its surface pulsating with an otherworldly energy. Drawn to it against her will, Amelia entered a room filled with grotesque experiments preserved in formaldehyde. The air reeked of decay and despair.
A voice echoed in her mind, a voice that seemed to come from both within and beyond. It spoke of the sanatorium’s dark past, of the malevolent experiments that tore souls apart and trapped them within its walls.
Amelia’s mind unravelled further, her thoughts intertwining with the tortured memories of those who had come before. She could feel their pain, their desperation, as if it were her own. She was becoming one with the haunting of the sanatorium.
As the boundary between reality and nightmare blurred, Amelia’s body began to wither, mirroring the tormented souls who had suffered within the sanatorium. Her screams merged with the chorus of agonized voices, becoming an eternal symphony of suffering.
The sanatorium stood silent once more, its hunger for souls briefly satiated. The mist enveloped the building, and its dark secrets remained hidden, waiting for the next curious soul to succumb to its malevolent embrace. |
In the heart of Haiti, nestled between verdant mountains and azure waters, lies the secluded village of Deshaies. While the world outside has modernized, Deshaies clings to its roots, with traditions passed down through countless generations. The most revered—and feared—of these traditions is the annual Demon Dance.
Every year, as the moon reaches its zenith in the dark sky of the vernal equinox, the villagers gather in the central square. Bonfires roar to life, casting long, dancing shadows on the cobblestones, and the rhythmic beat of drums fills the air. This is the night of the Demon Dance, a ritual to appease the spirits and ensure a prosperous year ahead.
But the dance is not just a festive tradition. It's a pact, a delicate balance between the world of the living and the realm of spirits. As the legend goes, centuries ago, a powerful Loa, a Voodoo spirit, saved Deshaies from a devastating plague. In return for its benevolence, the Loa demanded an annual dance in its honor. But there was a catch. Each year, the Loa would join the dance, taking on a human form, and choose a partner. As dawn approached, the chosen one would vanish, never to be seen again, their spirit dancing eternally with the Loa in the otherworld.
The night of the dance is both a celebration and a night of suspense. Young and old dance fervently, their bodies moving in harmony with the hypnotic drumbeats. But as the night deepens, a palpable tension fills the air. Who will the Loa choose this year?
Marie, a young woman with fiery spirit and a skeptic's heart, had returned to Deshaies after years in Port-au-Prince. She had heard tales of the Demon Dance but dismissed them as mere superstitions. That night, as she joined the dance, her laughter echoed above the music, her movements bold and defiant.
As midnight approached, a tall, masked stranger entered the square. His presence was magnetic, drawing dancers towards him like moths to a flame. Yet, no one knew who he was. Marie, intrigued and slightly tipsy from the local brew, decided to dance with the stranger. Their movements synchronized, they became the center of attention, their dance both passionate and ethereal.
But as dawn's first light touched the horizon, Marie's laughter faded. The stranger's grip tightened, and she felt a coldness seeping into her bones. The villagers watched in horror and realization as the masked man led Marie towards the edge of the square. As they reached the shadows, both figures dissolved into the mist, leaving behind only the echo of the drums and the villagers' hushed whispers.
The next day, a new mask, eerily resembling Marie's radiant face, appeared on the sacred altar in the village's Voodoo temple. The pact had been honored, the balance maintained. But for the villagers of Deshaies, the Demon Dance would forever be a haunting reminder of the thin line between reverence and fear, tradition and sacrifice. |
I Took the back of the pistol and smashed his teeth in leaving a black hole of blood draining from his gums. I felt a vibration from my hand squeezing the trigger to his head, then blood raining from the sky as if god was bleeding himself. My heart grew with warmth and fear at the same time “God don’t like ugly” I whispered into the pile of brains I left seeping into the concrete. A sound of desperation left the corner of the street as well as small foot steps so I followed. A petrified young man no younger than 10 kneeled in front of me weeping about the man on the ground whose blood rained from the sky just a few moments ago.
“Can you help me find my mommy?”
I stuck out my hand and walked him to the back corner of the block.
I cocked back my gun for the 2nd time tonight
A pressed the cold barrel to his temple I looked into his blood shot Dewey eyes and felt nothing.
My body is shaking from excitement as he begs for his life trying to gain my sympathy. I see his soul draining from his face as I click the trigger back. I love that sound, the click of it illuminates my dreams.
Time freezes as I watch the top of the gun explode on his temple, the little boy drops instantly on to the concrete where no grass grew but Beatles still circled the floor.
No blood not a single drop of blood was anywhere and I knew guaranteed his brain would rain from the heavens just like that man. As he laid on the ashy concrete I notice something silver next to him.
It was the bullet from my gun, dented in almost flipped inside ou…
Instantly a shock of excruciating pain hit my neck
I can hear my fucking heart in my ear drums,
I can hear my eyes and smell my flesh
“What the fuck…?”
My neck snapped forward as I heard growling coming from the side of me
I grabbed my neck which was filling my hand with nothing but thick syrup
“I like ugly…”. A demonic voice mocked my pain as if he heard me from my previous altercation
My body froze up in shock as I kneeled infront of a ominous dark shadowy figure that was some how larger than me even if I wasn’t kneeling.
A Fucking Beast Gazed at me from above with excitement as I beg for his sympathy.
The young man who was no younger than 10 disappeared, no trace of him.
This nigga just bit me, my realization began to kick in.
I slid on the concrete that had no grass but the Beatles still circled around me
My vision was pulsing and I could hear the dark giggle of what once was a scared little boy
I prayed out
“Dear God pleas..”
A aggravated growl grew
And
My blood rained from the sky as if god was bleeding himself. |
Back in 1987, my oldest son michael decided to play a prank on his little brother, i ran a restaurant with my partner travis called fredbears family diner, anyway michael decided it would be funny to but his little brothers head into fredbears mouth, it crushed his skull instantly, michael ran out laughing, havent seen him since. we had to close the restaurant, then in 1992 i had a prototype animatronic named circus baby for my daughter elizibeth, well the animatronic malfunctioned and killed her. very much, in 1995 i went down a dark path. I wanted to see what remnant could do when fused with a animatronic soul, but i needed remnant, so i found 6 children and killed them, after that it seamed that the souls didnt work so i just started making the suit i am in now, when i made it, it was a bright yellow rabbit suit, the year 2000 was the year it all went to hell, the animatronics escaped containment into the world, golden freddy cornered me in the room with the springlock suit, i should have just faced the fire and went to hell like i should have. Those springlocks i feel every waking moment of my life, it pierced my organs, my throat, my eyes, i still feel the pain |
Before I start this story, I heard this story from one of my high school teacher 5 years ago and It gave me chills so I thought I could share this story. Telling this in 1st person view
I was on a business trip in Washington state for a couple days coming from Utah. Once the trip was over I was driving back home, but I didn’t bother getting any rest before driving. I’ve been driving for almost 4 hours and in the middle of no where but I all I really cared about was finding a hotel so I can get some sleep. After 30 minutes at around midnight I found a hotel so I pulled up, got a room, and took a shower so I can go to sleep. When I was brushing my teeth supposedly I hear a couple arguing from the room next to mine, I wanted to check if everything was ok but at the same it really wasn’t none of my business so I just ignored it. After falling asleep I wake up at like 4am and from the same room next to me I hear a woman crying. After having 2nd thoughts of wanting to see what’s happening I decided to go to the room and knock on the door to see if everything is ok. I had 2nd thoughts again and I decided not to knock but I did see a keyhole I looked through it and I see a woman but her back was facing the door. I decided to leave her alone went back to my room and went back to sleep. I wake up again at 6am got ready, packed my bags and left the room so I can get back on the road. Right before I started to make my way to the front desk I wanted to check one more time through the keyhole where the woman was staying at. When I looked the keyhole all I saw was a red light I had no reaction and just left it alone. Once I returned the key to the lady at the front desk I asked her, “Excuse me do you know anything about the the room next to mine I kept hearing noises throughout the night and I’m just wondering if you know anything” what she said to me freaked me out she looks at me and says, “oh yeah, that room. Supposedly that room is haunted and that’s where the woman with the red eyes lives.” |
Me f 21 lives in a apartment alone. The apartment is pretty new it was made in 2015 so it's not like those old apartments that you could hear every single sound. I came home from a long day of work I was exhausted. I was so exhausted that I forgot to lock my door. Right away I just changed and flopped on my bed and fell asleep. Later that night I heard a bang I don't have any animals. I ignored it thinking that it was my next door neighbors. I'm a very light sleeper so I could just wake up to a little Bang. Next thing I noticed I wake up to the door shutting. (Mind you I live 2 blocks down a homeless shelter) right away I knew someone had to be in my house or just left my house. I was about to call the cops and tell I realized that they closed my door. I froze I was scared to pick up my phone. Next thing I noticed is a black figure where my closet is. I was frozen I couldn't move a muscle. The only thing that was light in my room was the Moon reflection. I see that figure look back at me. He had a backpack on him. Right when he found out that I was awake he ran out my apartment. Right when I came back to my senses I picked up the phone and called 911. When the police show up. They find the needles in my house. It clearly means that he was on something. And I guess when the man was running he dropped a kitchen knife. I started looking for new apartments right now I'm safe and at my parents house. |
When I was 15, our family decided one winter we should go camping, and in Arizona winters weren’t piercing cold so we drove up into the mountains and while I wasn’t on board with camping I was forced to go. But once we were in this dark empty forest only thing in sight were tall dry trees and slight frost along the tips of the grass, I was bored that night and wanted to explore a little while my family was setting up the tents. So I dove into the dark depths of the night, a chilling wind whispered through the trees, sending shivers down my spine, and obviously I was scared who wouldn’t be but my foolish self decided to continue as the moon hung like a cold, pale eye in the sky, casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground. I found myself drawn to the dilapidated house at the end of this long hallway made of trees, a place that gave of horrible feelings.
Curiosity gnawed at me, propelling me toward the decaying front door. The wood creaked under my weight as I pushed it open, revealing a hallway cloaked in darkness. The air was thick with a musty scent, like decay and time itself. I flicked on my flashlight, its beam cutting through the blackness, revealing walls covered in peeling wallpaper.
As I ventured deeper into the house, the floorboards groaned beneath my footsteps, as if protesting my intrusion. The hallway led me to a door, half-ajar, revealing a room bathed in a sickly red glow. My heart raced as I stepped inside, my breath catching in my throat at the sight before me.
Candles lined the room, casting flickering shadows that danced upon the walls. In the center of the room lay a gruesome tableau – a body, torn apart in the most horrifying way imaginable. Blood stained the floor, forming gruesome patterns that seemed to pulse with a malevolent energy.
The stench was overwhelming, a sickly sweet mixture of iron and decay that threatened to make me gag. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the macabre sight – limbs twisted at unnatural angles, viscera strewn across the floor like some twisted work of art. The walls themselves seemed to ooze with dread, as if the very essence of the room had been tainted by the violence that had occurred here.
A low, guttural sound echoed from the shadows, and I spun around, my flashlight beam revealing nothing but darkness. My heart pounded in my chest, a primal fear taking hold of me as I realized I was not alone. Something was lurking in the corners, something that reveled in the pain and suffering that had taken place here.
A whisper brushed against my ear, icy fingers trailing down my spine. My breath hitched as the words seeped into my mind – a litany of horrors, a symphony of despair. Panic clawed at me, urging me to flee, but my feet felt rooted to the blood-soaked floor.
In that moment, I knew that I had stumbled upon something beyond comprehension, a darkness that defied the boundaries of our world. As the room seemed to close in around me, I realized that the horrors of the house were not confined to its decaying walls – they had taken root in my very soul, forever binding me to the malevolent presence that hungered for more. I went to therapy for months after that night and still have nightmares and visions that bring me back into that horrid house. And even years later I have no idea what went down there. |
Hello, as the title says I work at a 24/7 movie theater. Recently a strange turn of events has me reconsidering my current occupation. You see I work during the graveyard shift from 11 pm to 7 am. Now other than this theater being open 24/7 everything is the same however there are rules to the overnight sift we have to abide by.
I can remember the first night on the job when my boss Tiaman showed me the ropes. Reminding me that there are steps to cleaning and shutting down the bathrooms and how to clean the screening rooms in between movies. He took me to his office to show me a set of rules we MUST go follow.
"Ok, Andre. We have a set of rules you must always follow and if not followed will be a cause for termination." Taman said sternly
"I will have zero issues following!" I spoke with extreme enthusiasm.
"Well, well, well looks like you want to work! Ok, let's go over them then." He spoke in a happier tone
1. When it becomes 0300 you must close down all the bathrooms until 0400
2. When cleaning out the theater the light has to be on and you must finish before the screen turns black
3. If a man without a face walks in you are not to speak to him for any reason.
4. All of the staff must enter the lobby at 0300 and stay there until 0400.
5. If you see someone talking to a man without a face DO NOT ATTEMPT TO STOP THEM AND LOOK AWAY
6. Do not attempt to film or record anything that goes on here.
"Now that we have gone through all of the rules is there anything you need for me?" He said nonchalantly
"I uh ... no I'm good" I spoke swallowing my nerves
He smiled at me and escorted me out of the office then left the theater. I instantly got to work cleaning the front room while a person named Cynthia taught me the ropes. She was a very nice girl and has been there for years.
"Hey it's almost 3 am and we need to close the bathroom and then head to the lobby let me show you how." She seemed a little nervous as she said this.
I followed closely behind as we walked toward the bathrooms. The only strange thing is how the bathrooms have deadbolts that are kinda hidden on the outside.
"Ok, first we knock three times and crack the door open then ask if anyone is in there." She takes a deep breath and knocks three times.
"Anyone there? Custodians we need to clean the bathroom at this time." She listened closely and heard someone say
"Uh yes! I'm almost done." A woman's voice can be heard in the background.
"Well ok thank you." She looked hurried and looked down at her watch seeing the time clicking closer to 3 am. At the time it was 2:57 am and I can see Cynthia getting more and more on edge as the time gets closer.
"Shit shit shit... It's 1 minute until 3 am and she hasn't flushed... We need to lock the door NOW" right when she reaches for the hidden deadbolt the woman came out and says sorry then walks to the theater down the right. Cynthia quickly locks the door and breaks out as a sign of relief.
"Thank god she got out of there..." It was then we heard a scream in the bathroom. Another woman was in there still.
"YO We gotta help her!" I shouted as I reached for the deadbolt but I was abruptly stopped by Cynthia who grabbed my hand and pushed me away.
"Hey! What the fuck are you..." I exclaimed until I was cut off
"Listen to me now and listen carefully. We CAN NOT open this door if we do you and I will die. Now we gotta get to the lobby." She said with fear in her eyes and pushing me to the lobby.
In the background, I can still hear the unknown woman screaming in the background as if she was being killed. I can hear the screams even in the lobby but when it became 3:30 am the screaming stopped with the sound of tearing flesh and breaking bones. For the first time, I felt primal fear... The idea that someone was being torn to shreds made me feel like I don't want to be there anymore. I slowly started walking toward the doors when it walked in...
Standing in front of me was a man about eight feet tall wearing a suit and a bowler hat. He had no face. No eyes, ears, mouth, or even nose. He looked at me then looked at the front desk and continued walking. He briefly stopped at the front desk and placed five human fingers made of gold on the counter. He waited for the cashier to hand him what looked like a movie ticket made of pure light.
He walked down the hall before a customer was walking down the same hallway and didn't seem to notice him. I decided to look around the corner and followed him with my eyes. He stopped in front of a picture on the wall and walked through it. I can hear everyone taking a deep breath. Cynthia pulled me to the side to speak with me.
"Ok, so I need you to keep a promise... You and I are going to clean the bathroom but you cannot say a word about this to anyone or anything... What you see here STAYS here, got it?" She looked at me with fierce determination
"Ye...yea. I promise" Of course that was a fucking lie.
She and I got to the bathroom and she took a deep breath and shakingly opened the door. As the door swung open the smell hit me like a ton of bricks. The smell of rusty iron FILLED the air and I can taste the blood as it pooled in the back of my throat. I was gagging before Cynthia handed me a filter mask which seemed to solve the problem.
We went inside with a pair of buckets and mops. The horror I saw was nigh unspeakable. Blood and viscera covered the walls with bits and pieces of flesh hanging from the ceiling. The blood on the floor was draining into the drain on the floor. I held back my vomit as we mopped up the remains of this person, this almost took two hours. Cynthia tried to tell me jokes to break the ice and get the mind that I was cleaning someone off the floor. I don't remember much during it as I was disassociating hard maybe to distance myself from the fucked up situation.
We were about done when something walked out of the stall... A tall woman with white eyes and an unnaturally large smile. She looked at me and Cynthia while smiling. I can see blood on her mouth and her teeth were very sharp looking. She bent down toward me slowly while she was doing so I can hear her bones creaking and popping in and out of place.
This woman... this thing spoke to me.
"Oh honey, I'm sorry for all of this mess. Hope you have a wonderful night now!" She laughed a little. As she was walking out she had to crouch low to clear the doorway. I never saw her after this.
Cynthia looked at me in shock and I can see the sweat bead down her forehead.
"You....you are so lucky she didn't kill you..." She blurted out in relief.
"What!? What do you mean?" I blurted out in surprise.
"She is one of the "regulars". A set of beings who never speak to us and are extremely dangerous. Only people who they speak to or who speak to them they kill and devour on the spot. The reason we lock the doors is to keep anyone from speaking to her as she always appears here at 3 am. For some reason, she didn't want to eat you..."
I was in shock and couldn't speak... I almost died? Why was I ignored? These things rang through my head and I lost track of time and before I knew it Cynthia was snapping at my face.
"Hey, newbie! You there?" She sounded upset
"Uh, yea... what happened?" I asked
"Not much... you decided to blackout but I got the rest cleaned up. I understand this job pays well but there is some fucked up shit that goes down here." She laughed a little as she rang the mop out and a flood of crimson liquid poured into the bucket.
Cynthia and I started to walk down to the first theater on the left and waited for the customers to leave. They were watching the new marvel movie and I can hear the ending credits roll. Surprisingly no one stayed for the inevitable end credit scene but I wasn't going to question it. We walked in and we tried to clean up as fast as possible. It was almost five minutes when the screen went black and we can hear the film slowly shutting off. The sound of the lights shutting off one by one echoed through the theater.
"RUN! GET OUT." Cynthia screamed in fear and sprinted past me. I didn't question and just ran. All of a sudden she tripped and started to cry and scream "NO NO NO NO I DON'T WANNA DIE" It was then I saw a tall, pale humanoid being crawl out of the screen. This figure bolted toward Cynthia, knocking me down in the process. I can see this thing crawling over her body. It quickly covered her mouth with some of its flesh. I saw it slowly start to meld with Cynthia.
It pressed its body against Cynthia slowly "absorbing" her. The pain and fear in her eyes showed how much she was terrified. I couldn't move... it was as if my flight or fight response was completely broken and my body was unsure what to do... All of Cynthia was inside of this thing... It then twitched its head toward me and slowly moved toward me... It stopped in front of me staring at my eyes... It felt like a century passed while we locked eyes... It then looked toward the film screen and started to crawl back into it as the lights began to flicker on.
It was only but a few minutes later when I can hear customers mindlessly shamble into the theater... It was only 30 minutes before I can clock out. I decided to go to the bathroom and sit on the toilet to take a breath. I didn't know how to process these things and in no time I heard my phone buzzing at the time. It was finally 7 am... Time to leave.
I ran to the clock to sign out. I had never been so relieved to go home and before I can leave the front door Tiaman walked in and stopped me.
"Ah, how was your first night? Where is Cynthia?" He asked
"I uh... She's gone...She was attacked by the thing on the movie screen" Looking back this is all I could say? This was a nightmare but oddly enough he looked at me seriously and said.
"Hmm... That's not good. So you were able to make it out huh?" He asked as he scratched his head
"Not really... I fell and the thing just stared at me after ... fuck... absorbing Cynthia.." I said while trying to hold back my feelings.
"You... survived? Interesting. Well hey, kiddo what if I told you I am going to promote you and triple your wage if you stay working here? I'll do it starting tomorrow" He spoke with confidence and grandiose.
"Let me sleep on it... is that ok? I need to get home and sleep." I said shakingly.
"Of course! Sleep it off and come back. We will be eagerly waiting." He waved me off and started to walk toward the exit.
I got home and immediately vomited... I have never been so terrified in my life... The money is going to be amazing but... I don't want to die... But it doesn't seem like I would... Tell me... have you ever seen the devil?... I feel like last night I have... Anyways, stay safe out there people for you never know what is lurking in the shadows. |
Hi baby, wake up..
listen baby, I wanted to apologise
about last night,
it's just.....
you know,, love makes you crazy and I'am really in love with you.
but starting from today every thing is going to change,
today I'll make you a promise.
I promise I will never hurt you or cheat on you, I promise I'll stay with you for ever.
can you do the same my love?
Please honey, I need you to promise that you will stay with me for ever.
Ohh, sorry, I forgot to remove the ducktape. |
This day 06/1/2009 I will never forget me and my brother were having fun and playing games as usual. Except we were home alone and we stopped early to get something to eat. We were both In the kitchen getting snacks and talking then he stopped and started staring at something. I said “What are you looking at dummy,” he said nothing let’s go upstairs. Something didn’t feel right to me when we got upstairs I asked him if he saw anything. When he went to go speak but the power went out. We both looked at each other and I ran to go lock the door because I heard walking up the stairs. I told him to tell me what he saw. He said that he didn’t know it looked like a dog but then it disappeared. He calls my dad immediately. He told us to stay put I heard him say to my mom its back. My brother asked them what was back he said quietly don’t yell and do not open the door we will. We will be there as fast as we can he hung up the phone. 20 minutes later we heard my mom saying it’s safe to come out now my brother ran to the door I tackled him to the ground.” you idiot they told us they will open the door” ever that thing was said “It’s me come on open the door stop playing games” it sounded like it was getting angrier it started to get more aggressive and started screaming and started to break the door down then it had gone quiet we had heard both of our parents saying it’s ok to come out and my brother, of course, open the door like the idiot he is. That thing wasn’t our parents I ran into the bathroom in his room
And jumped out the window I had broken an arm and my parents just got there. I still have nightmares of the screams of him getting ripped apart. |
“You bleedin’ moron! That’s not a radish! That’s a human girl!” I heard the Unseelie creature squawk out as he gesticulated wildly down towards me.
I had been bound up, gagged, and tossed on top of a cart overflowing with radishes the size of apples. They were all bright and shiny reds, pinks, purples and blues, looking more like Easter eggs than root vegetables. One of my neighbours, Mrs. Clarion, had been growing them since long before I was born. Nearly her entire backyard had been turned into a radish garden, with only some flower beds and shrubs skirting the perimeter and a small corner dedicated to an assortment of other household staples.
I had asked her more than once over the years what on Earth she needed with so many radishes, and each time she had always replied ‘The Fair Folk’s blessings do not come cheap’.
I believed her the first time she said this, stopped believing it when I got a little older, and then abruptly started believing it again when I caught one of them skulking amongst the radishes under the light of a full moon.
I hadn’t realized he was a fairy at first, of course. From a distance, I just thought it was a skinny and shabby vagrant raiding a local garden for food. Since I was so close to both home and friendly neighbours, I was perhaps bolder than a girl my age should have been in that situation. I stormed into the garden, waving my phone around, threatening to call the cops if the trespasser didn’t get the hell out of our neighbourhood.
Only when he looked up at me did I remember that many old folk tales have supernatural beings, from mischievous pucks to Saint Peter himself, disguised as beggars to test the virtue of the unwary.
And I, it seemed, had just failed.
I saw a set of gold-fleck, obsidian eyes gleaming in the moonlight, set deeply into a protruding and elongated face. His skin was a dull and orcish green, his nose long and his ears pointed, his cheekbones sharp as knives and high as bell towers, and his dirty white hair hung about him in a tangle of unkempt dreadlocks. He was leaning on what looked like a shepherd's crook with a carved-out radish dangling from it, a free-floating flame with no apparent source burning brightly inside the hollow.
I was so stunned by the being’s undeniably inhuman appearance that I just gawked at him for a moment, and he took advantage of my inaction to swipe my legs out from under me with his cane. Even though he looked decrepit, he moved with a surprising amount of speed and grace, bouncing about as if he could refuse to obey gravity on a whim. I was helpless as he tied me up without a word and threw me into the cart with the rest of his haul. Mustering what seemed to be all of his might, he began pushing his heavily-laden cart over to the doors that I had always assumed led to Mrs. Clarion’s root cellar, but what I could now see was actually a set of rails that plunged deep into the Earth.
I screamed as loud as I could for help, but the gag muffled me enough that no one was able to hear me. As soon as the cart was on the track, the Hobgoblin-thing groaned in relief and hopped on the back. With a tap of his cane, the cart began rolling forward. Slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed as it chugged deeper and deeper underground, until we were barrelling down the tunnel at a breakneck pace. Every time we spun around a sharp bend, I was sure the cart was going to capsize and kill us both, but whatever fairy magic was pushing it forward also held it and its contents firmly to the track. The only light came from the flame dangling from the goblin’s cane, so I couldn’t see very far ahead. It felt like we made a lot of turns though, and I know we passed by at least a couple of junctions, implying the existence of a vast network of Unseelie tracks crisscrossing far below the surface.
When we finally started slowing down, we came out into a vast cavern filled with stockpiled radishes, some of the heaps reaching all the way up to the ceiling. The cave was lit by thousands of hollowed radishes dangling from the stalactites by dewdrop-laden threads of gossamer that fractured their light into fractal rainbows. I saw hordes of Unseelie busily carving out radishes and spooning out the insides into wooden tubs so that they could be stomped into what I could only assume was some kind of godawful goblin wine.
My captor meticulously tried to steer his cart through all the ruckus and rumpus towards one of the great radish heaps, but was stopped by one of his fellow Fair Folk; the one who had so astutely pointed out that I was not a radish.
Acknowledging my presence for the first time since he bound me up, he glared down at me in the firelit gloom of the cavern. He was squinting tightly, as though he was trying to weigh his comrade’s accusation that I was not, in fact, a radish.
“Are you sure?” he asked at last, looking back over to the other Fey. “She’s awfully red in the face. And she was awfully concerned about the welfare of all these radishes here, which seems to me an odd state to be in if you yourself do not also happen to be a radish. She might be a radish, Nullthorn, she just might.”
“Haymswitch; radishes do not have faces to be red in, they do not have minds to be concerned or voices to speak said concerns, and most notably they do not have mouths to gag or limbs to bind!” Nullthorn sighed, his voice heavy with exasperation.
“Now hold up just a minute, there,” Haymswitch objected. I could tell by the look on his face that he was in the process of concocting some kind of hair-brained excuse for bringing me down to this mystical *undirheim* of theirs. “Mandrakes are root vegetables, just like radishes, if you follow me. Mandrakes dream of being human, and if they dream hard enough their roots start to take on a human form. You pull ’em out of the ground before they’ve turned all the way and they’re known to get awfully ornery, just like this young lass was. I don’t think it’s completely inconceivable that a radish might accomplish something similar, once in a Blue Moon or so, especially when there’s fairy magic involved. We could have an exceptionally rare and successful instance of self-willed transmogrification on our hands here.”
“She hardly looks like she just crawled out of the ground,” Nullthorn said, looking me up and down with an incredulous eye. “And what about her clothes and makeup and that little gizmo on her wrist there?”
“What about them?” Haymswitch shrugged. “Roots grow around discarded human bric-a-brac all the time. It’s no wonder. None at all. She’d be attracted to them, if anything.”
God knows how much longer he’d have carried on with this nonsense, had my frustration with it not grown strong enough to overcome my shock and terror with the surreal situation he had dragged into.
“I’m not a radish!” I tried to scream through my gag, my voice of course coming out muffled and muted. They both looked down at me, Haymswitch with alarm and Nullthorn in mild but still irritated vindication.
“She just said that she’s not a radish,” Nullthorn insisted.
“You don’t know that. She’s got a gag in her mouth,” Haymswitch countered. “She could be saying anything. She might have said ‘time for hot haggis’, or ‘fine lot of catfish’, or even ‘Sublime yachts are rubbish’. It’s impossible to tell.”
“I’m not a radish!” I screamed as loud as I could. I was thrashing against my bindings now, and I could feel the knots around my wrists starting to come loose.
“She’s clearly saying that she’s not a damn radish!” Nullthorn shouted.
“We’ll of course she is. She spent all that time in the dirt dreaming of being something more, it feels so real,” Haymswitch claimed. “What do you think mandrakes are screaming about when you pull them out of the soil? About how they’re not bleedin’ mandrakes! That’s what I’d wager.”
“Haymswitch, would you please stop wasting both our time and just admit you got caught?” Nullthorn sighed.
“Oy, you’re taking her word over mine? That’s a bloody outrage, it is!” Haymswitch declared. “Between her and me, which one of us do you really think has the most incentive to lie about whether or not she’s a radish?”
“You, because you’re the one who got caught harvesting the radishes!”
“Exactly, I was harvesting radishes! I harvested her; therefore, ergo, forthwith, *ipso facto, et tu Brutus*, she’s a radish! Why would I have brought her back here if she wasn’t?”
“Oy, Haymswitch! What’s that you got there?” one of the other Unseelie asked. I noticed that a crowd of them had started to form around us. Whether it was due to my presence or just Haymswitch’s bizarre ramblings, I’m not entirely sure.
“A radish!” Haymswitch replied without the slightest hesitation. “Don’t you know a radish when you see one, Gingsly?”
Gingsly stared down at me, skeptically arching an eyebrow.
“I dare say I do; and that, Haymswitch, t’ain’t no radish. That there’s a human girl, if ever I saw one,” he replied.
“That’s what I told him!” Nullthorn agreed.
“I’m not a radish!” I shouted again, though I regretted drawing attention to myself since I was now nearly free of my ropes.
“Radish says what?” Haymswitch mumbled.
“What?” I heard someone in the crowd shout back, prompting Nullthorn to shake his head in frustration.
“Haymswitch; enough. You’re not fooling anyone. You’ve got to take her back up,” he ordered.
“Hold on now, hold on. Let’s talk about this for a tick,” Haymswitch pleaded. “What if we just throw her on the heap for now and see if she takes?”
“She is not going on the radish heap, Haymswitch!”
“Why not?”
“Because she’s not a radish!”
“And we can’t have unprofessionals mucking around amongst the radishes. It will cause an avalanche; or worse, a stampede!” Gingsly claimed. “Toss her in an empty cart and haul her back up to the surface.”
“Oy, we can’t send her back now, lads! She’s seen too much of our clandestine, arcane operations!” Haymswitch claimed. “We can’t risk her telling others! They’ll send the Grimms down after us for sure! It’s obvious what we’re up to!”
All the goblins looked at each other uncertainly, and then around at the convoluted setup they had created for themselves.
“…Is it?” one of them finally asked.
“I know this place like the back of my hand and I’m still not a hundred percent sure what we’re doing,” another chimed in.
By now I had managed to wriggle loose from my ropes, but as I tried to get up, I caused the pile of radishes I was lying on to slide out of the cart and dump me onto the ground with them. Though the Unseelie seemed startled by my sudden escape, none of them made a move against me. I quickly scrambled to my feet before any of them could change their minds, pulling the gag out of my mouth with my now free hand.
“I am not a radish!” I shouted clearly for the first time.
“…Well why didn’t you say so?” Haymswitch asked innocently. “Nullthorn, it seems I’ve unknowingly picked up a stowaway. What’s say we see her on her way then, why doncha?”
Sighing and shaking his head again, Nullthorn took a cautious step towards me with his hands held up in a non-threatening gesture.
“Just stay calm, kid. No one’s going to hurt you,” he said as gently as he could in his gravelly, crackling voice. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this. Haymswitch was supposed to just vanish if he got caught and come back for his harvest when the coast was clear. But he’s an idiot, and tossed you into his cart instead. Just step into one of the empty carts and I’ll have one of my workers, not Haymswitch, take you back home.”
“No! No, stay back! I’m not letting any of you take me anywhere!” I screamed, picking up a radish and holding it as threateningly as I could; which wasn’t very much, considering it was a radish.
“Fine, have it your way. If you want to go wandering up the tracks yourself in the hopes of finding the door you came through, be our guest,” Nullthorn said. “We’ve got better things to do than fight with you.”
“Well, we have other things to do. I don’t necessarily know about better,” Gingsly added.
“Can it! The break’s over! All of you get back to work this instant! I want every new radish shined and sorted by sun-up!” Nullthorn barked.
“No! I’m not going to wander through goblin tunnels by myself!” I shouted. “You are going to magic me back home right now or, or… I will knock down that huge pile of radishes!”
“What do you mean ‘magic you back?’ What would we be using these tracks for if we could do something like that?” Nullthorn asked. “Kid, either one of us drives you back up in a cart, or you’re on your own.”
I cocked my arm, ready to chuck the radish I was holding into a particularly large and precarious pile of radishes that I judged to be within throwing distance. Nullthorn’s reaction was once again one of exasperation, and he seemed to just be waiting for me to get it over with. Infuriated, and already close to vomiting on the overpowering stench of radishes, I threw the one I was holding into the pile.
It landed dead center, and sent a few more radishes tumbling, but the pile otherwise remained intact. Nullthorn just shook his head and started to walk away, and I picked up another radish with the intention of throwing it at the back of his head.
We were both stopped in our tracks by the sound of more radishes falling loose from the pile.
I had expected to see radishes falling from the top half of the pile, but instead, I saw them rolling out from the bottom. They hadn’t been pulled down by gravity but were apparently being propelled by some kind of magical force, and they were rolling towards me.
“Stampede!” Gingsly shouted, sending all the goblins into a panic as they frantically fled in the opposite direction.
Not fully realizing the danger I was in, I simply stepped backwards, thinking that the radishes would lose momentum before they could get to me. To my dismay, they actually picked up speed despite the flat floor they were on; and the faster they moved, the more radishes from the pile joined them. With a yelp I threw the radish I was holding at them, only for them to weave out of its path before honing back in on my position. I broke into a sprint and began searching desperately for any form of safety I could get to.
I noticed that the goblins had all gotten off the floor and hauled themselves up onto elevated platforms built into the cavern walls or suspended from the ceiling, but a radish stampede still wasn’t enough to make me want to throw my lot in with theirs.
Instead, I hopped into one of the carts, hoping that would be sufficient high ground against the onslaught of heel-high terrors. I made it in just as the tsunami of radishes slammed into its back end. The cart lurched forward, but the radishes quickly circled around it and cut it off from the other side. They piled up higher and higher, and I knew it was only a matter of seconds before they started pouring into the cart. I was completely surrounded, with no way of escape other than just plowing straight through them.
Haymswitch had controlled his cart with his shepherd's crook, and I saw that this one had a similar cane holstered to the rear end. Without a second thought, I grabbed it and started banging the outside of the cart with it as hard as I could.
The cart immediately bolted forward, squashing the radishes in front of it and sending me slamming into the rear wall. When I looked up I saw that the radishes had resumed the chase and were rolling after me in hot pursuit. The steering stick had flown out of my hand when the cart accelerated, so the only way I could steer it now was by shifting my weight around.
And I had no way to slow down. My only hope was that the cart would stop on its own when it reached its destination.
The rickety track had me bobbing up and down and nearly threw me out of the cart altogether. When I looked behind me again to see if I was at least making any progress in escaping the radishes, I saw that not only were they still chasing me but that the goblins had joined the pursuit as well. They rode along the tracks on contraptions that resembled Penny-farthing bicycles, and were trying to lasso what I could only assume was the alpha radish at the head of the pack.
I whipped my head around to look forward, and saw that the cart was heading towards a giant heap of rancid, rotting radishes. There were no other tracks for me to switch to, so if I didn’t jump, a collision was imminent. But even if I survived the jump, I’d be crushed by the radishes that were chasing me. With no good options left to me, I braced myself for impact while banging the walls of the cart with my feet, screaming for it to stop.
It didn’t listen, and I slammed into the mushy, fetid pile at full speed. The viscous concoction was enough to slow me to a stop, as well as shield me from the pelting radishes coming from behind, but the stench was overwhelming and within a matter of seconds I had fallen completely unconscious.
When I woke up, I was gagged and bound again, but realized to some relief that I was back on the surface.
“I’m just saying that was what you would most definitely call an atypical reaction,” I heard Haymswitch say, and saw that I had been slung over his shoulder and that he was carrying me through Mrs. Clarion’s radish garden. “Why would they chase after her like that if she wasn’t one of their own? I don’t care how many limbs or eyes or whatever other non-radish parts she may have, I still think that she could very well be some heretofore unknown specimen of radish, or at the very least some sort of crossbreed.”
“Haymswitch,” Nullthorn huffed, barely hanging on to his last thread of patience. “Shut up.”
Haymswitch set me down by Mrs. Clarion’s back door, and Nullthorn pounded on it in a secret knock before the two of them ran back off down the track, shutting the cellar doors behind them. A moment later, the back porch light came on, and Mrs. Clarion opened her door to find me tied up on her welcome mat, covered in stinking radish mulch.
Though she did look alarmed, she didn’t help me immediately. Instead, she picked up a letter that had been pinned to my ropes and made a point of reading it aloud.
*“Mrs. C, we recovered this during this Moon’s radish harvest. After extensive debate amongst ourselves, we were unable to come to a unanimous conclusion as to whether or not it constitutes a radish (though we do note that it fervently maintains that it is not). Regardless, it induced a severe adverse reaction in our strategic radish stockpiles and subsequently compromised the organic certification of our compost heap. As such, I’m afraid we cannot accept it as part of your sacrifice and return it to your care in (approximately) the same condition we received it. Regards, Nullthorn.”*
With a sigh, she lowered the letter, and glared down at me in mild annoyance.
|
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.