During the war a soldier faithfully wrote his mother every week so she would know he was all right, until one week she didn't get a letter and immediately began to worry. Within a couple of weeks she got a letter from the Army saying that her son had been captured and was being held in a Prisoner-of-War camp, and they assured her that they had no reason to believe the American prisoners were being mistreated in any way. A few weeks later the woman finally received another letter from her son, it read: "Dear Mom, Try not to worry about me, they are treating us well and I'll be released as soon as the war is over. Make sure that little Teddy gets the stamp for his collection. Love you, Joe" The woman was overjoyed to hear the news, but was confused because she had no idea who "little Teddy" was. She decided to steam the stamp from the envelope and have a look. When she did she saw that written on the back of the stamp were the words: "They've cut off my legs.”

>>1104143

that's a bit insensitive of him

There is a moment each leap year, at exactly three minutes past three on the morning of February twenty-ninth. If you possess the courage, await that moment in darkened room, with no other present. At that moment, the darkness will deepen. If you were to hold you hand directly before your face, you would not see a thing. But you must not do so. No, for that would be to waste the moment. Instead you must reach out, into that impenetrable darkness.

And it will reach out to you.

An unseen hand will grasp yours. You must not flinch away, nor tighten your grasp. To do so will only slough away more of the decrepit flesh that covers it, and anger its unseen owner. Remain perfectly still, as the withered fingers move over your palm, tracing unknown patterns. Do not move an inch as it crawls slowly up your arm. And most of all, do not even breathe as it caresses your face, touching what cannot be seen.

Should you remain still through this, the hand will be withdrawn and a voice will speak, so close you can feel its breath on your face, smell the scent of decay it carries. It will ask you for one simple piece of information: your name. Answer truthfully. Answer truthfully, and the presence will retreat, leaving only a whisper in the air as the darkness lifts. "It is done."

From that day on, untold good fortune will be yours, and mysterious power. You will lack nothing, and have everything. But in a year, perhaps two, you will feel your skin begin to decay, and smell the sweet smell of death upon your breath...

>>1104143
Nice job. That's actually quite scary.

It has been reported that some victims of a traumatic event, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not WAKE UP. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren’t being raped. The only way that they realized they needed to WAKE UP was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to WAKE UP. Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and PLEASE WAKE UP

>>1104160
I lol'd

It was three hours after he discovered that he couldn't open the door. Try as he might, nothing could pry it open. It did not even flinch at any of his attempts to pull, kick, or otherwise force the damned door open. So, he sits here, on his bed, staring at the door to his bedroom.

The semi-circle of windows to his left faces both the neighbor's house, and the street out front. The house is dark, and the street is darker. Not a soul to be found. The only light comes from a lone streetlight outside, and the monitor of his computer, displaying the current witty desktop of the week.

He'd been in his room for at least 12 hours since waking up this morning, by his count. At eight PM, his connection to the internet died. It's now three AM, and he's hungry. Been hungry for a few hours, actually.

It was then, that he heard it. A deep thudding sound, as though something heavy were dropped in the room above. He sat forward, tilting his head slightly to better hear.

He could make out something. Faint. A voice. Is it laughing? No.. Sobbing. Faintly. And occasionally giving that quick-inhale sound of having been sobbing hard enough to have to draw a quick, harsh breath.

>>1104173

Footsteps, then. Heavy. Walking towards where the original noise came from. And then the sobs turn into a muffled shriek. And then again. And again. Sweat began to drip from his face, as he could make out the scene above -

A skittering of movement, away from the footsteps. And then the heavy footsteps follow. A scream, louder this time. And then a loud, muffled thud. And then another, causing the screams to cease for a fraction of a second, and then continue. After a few heavy thudding sounds, the scream began to grow quieter, further apart.

Suddenly, he could hear a low scraping sound, the sound of nails being dragged across polished wood. The kind of flooring in the room above; his parent's room. Straining hard to hear that scraping sound, he leans back in surprise at the much heavier sounding thump from above, almost sounding as though something were being stomped on. And then those heavy footsteps, again.. and the sound of something else heavy being dragged apparently out of the room, to the hallway upstairs..

>>1104143
oh my god

inb4 the Hotel room keyhole one

In the winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a Medic in the German army had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment was a bloodbath. Those who survived claimed to have heard, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

The Medic had made his rounds during the fire, in almost complete darkness as he had so many times before, but never had he been this short on supplies. No matter. He would do his duty. He had always prided himself on his resourcefulness.

The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, and most men dropped off to sleep in the dark, still hours of the morning - New Year's Day, 1945. The men awoke at first light with screams. They discovered that their bandages were not typical bandages at all, but hunks and strips of human flesh. Several men had been given fresh blood transfusions, yet there had been no blood supplies available. Each treated man was almost completely covered, head-to-toe, with the maroon stain of blood.

The Medic was found, sitting on an ammunition tin, staring off into space. When one man approached him, and tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal that large patches of his skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body was almost completely dried of blood. In one hand was a scalpel, and in the other, a blood transfusion vial. None of the men treated for wounds that night, in that camp, saw the end of January, 1945.

>>1104143
who's little teddy?

>>1104174

He awoke the next day much hungrier. And horrified beyond belief. The world outside is a stark grey, concealed in a misty fog that reveals nothing but the house next door, and a few feet of street and sidewalk outside. He uncurled himself from his blankets and pillow, having clung to them throughout the night. There were other sounds in the house. Something having been drug down the stairs right outside his door, and out the front door, which both opened and slammed violently. But he saw no one leave.

Today, however, is a new day. Escape is the priority. Feeling stupid for not realizing he could try the windows, that is the order of business today. So, after awakening from sleep, and checking the door a final time, he grabbed his desk chair. With a low groan of exertion, he heaved the chair at the closest window. It slammed hard against the glass, but did not break it. Nor did it scratch, or otherwise mar the smooth surface whatsoever. Growling with frustration, he picked up the chair, reared back, and ran forward to give this new throw more momentum. Nothing but the sound of hard plasting hitting unbreakable glass.

He tried for two hours. Constantly throwing that chair at the window. And, in truth, it seemed to do more damage to the chair, than the window. He even tried kicking the windows, to no avail. Not only will they not open, but they will not break. On his final attempt, he gave one last exhausted kick, with zero results, leaving him to lean against the window frame, breathing hard, face a mask of angry frustration.

>>1104186
No one. He made it to prompt his mother to remove the stamp and find the message.

A new find was brought into the lab today. Men working the demolition of a condemned warehouse at this facility discovered a rusty oil barrel that seemed to exude cold. Preliminary electromagnetic field readings yielded chaotic data before the equipment died. Barrel appears to be constructed of stainless steel and, again, radiates cold.

13/7/2007 9:00 PM

We opened the barrel today inside a sealed chamber. Chamber immediately frosted over. Unidentified entity found within the barrel. Appears to be gaseous and black. Indeed, the very light surrounding it appears to be “sucked in” by it’s presence. Appears to be sentient, but does not communicate in any understood way. Biological matter that comes into contact with the Entity seems to disintegrate.

>>1104191

14/7/2007 10:11 AM

An intern entered the sealed chamber alone today, without his hazard suit. He was not seen again. The Entity has double in size since being released from containment. Has become aggressive. We are sealing off the chamber immediately in light of it’s flesh-consuming properties and rapid growth. All research is halted.

14/7/2007 11:00 AM

It’s gone! God help us, it’s escaped!

>>1104188
Aaaaaand....

>>1104188

That's when the head slammed into the glass, outside. It looked like it was human, once. But there were only tufts of grey-brown hair on the head, knobs of twisted flesh everywhere. One eye was massive, and fish-like, the other small and higher up than it should be. The face, mouthless, began rubbing itself back and forth across the glass. Again and again, faster and faster. With a shriek of fear, he jumped back, as the face began to rip open on the glass, smearing blood, and some kind of mushy clear fluid from the large eye that apparently bursted open.

The sound. A wet squeaking, that only got louder as the face smashed and smeared itself into the glass. With its features already nearly mush, the head began to draw itself back, and slam itself forward into the glass, causing the entire wall to shake slightly with the force. Blood and fluid shot in all directions with each strike of flesh to glass, and only when the head was truly a disgusting, pulpy mass of red, did it stop. Resting its head to the glass, it lifted slightly.. and the flesh a few inches below the eyes began popping apart. The flesh ripped slowly open in a line a few inches wide; a 'mouth'. And it pressed this new mouth to the window, opening and closing it, somewhat like a fish trying to breathe outside of water.

A new sound formed, high-pitched, shrill. It took him a few seconds to realize that it was him, screaming, his back to the door, hands pressed against his face, his fingers digging into the skin. He screamed like that, as the face continued to try and 'breathe', until he passed out.

Original content here:


It’s been over ten years since he passed, and still he cannot escape your thoughts. You were only a child, but what happened could never be forgotten. Ten years ago, he was your best friend. You played together, ate together, went to school together. You two were inseparable. But that year, everything changed. You two rode home from school at 2:30 on your bikes, as you did every day. Down Main Street, left at Fifth, and through the alley between the bookstore and the liquor store. But that day, someone was waiting. This route had always been safe, but everything changed in the flash of an eye. Or rather, the flash of a blade. The man attacked so fast you couldn’t save your friend. All you could do was ride off as fast as possible and try to black out the memory. And it worked.

Or so you thought.

Today, you took that same route home. There was no reasoning to your decision, but you felt as if something was calling you there. As you passed, you saw a figure in the shadows and everything immediately came rushing back: this was the man that murdered your best friend. He has not changed at all. And you were the child who sped off and left your friend to bleed to death. And again, you take the same action as you did ten years ago. You act as if nothing happened, and pass out on your bed. In the middle of the night, the phone rings. You slowly sit-up and look at the clock. 2:30 am. On the phone, you hear the screams of a child. You realize you are hearing your best friend’s death. The screams cease and a man’s voice comes on: “Now it’s your turn”. Your first reaction is sheer terror, but as time passes, you fall back into sleep. It’s just a phone call right?

>>1104203
You wake up at 6:30 like every morning. You brush your teeth, take a shower, and get ready for the day. You ride your bike to your boring job in the office, and work your shift. You get off early today because today is the tenth anniversary of his death and you planned to have dinner with his family. Once again, you take the familiar route home. This time, everything has changed. You hear a child screaming “Wait up!” You turn around. No. It can’t be. He died ten years ago. You look down at yourself. Somehow, it is that fateful day again. The day he dies. He catches up with you and urges you to go down the alley, the one between the liquor store and bookstore. Now you remember what happened. But something’s different…. He made it through the alley. You ecstatically rush through the alley. He’s alive! Thing’s have changed!

The man jumps out from the shadows and slits your throat. This can’t be…. You were not meant to die. As you lay on the asphalt, gasping for air, the last words you hear are “I told you you were next”.

>>1104143

Why is this shitty version always posted? Urgh. Way to ruin a good creepy story.

Normally you sleep soundly, but the thunderstorm raging outside is stirring you from your sleep. You begin to doze, then another crash jolts you awake. The cycle lasts most of the night. So you lay there, eyes open and outward, looking at your room stretching out before you in oblong shadows. Your eyes move from nameless object, to object, until you reach your mirror, sitting adjacent to you across the room.

Suddenly a flash of lighting, and the mirror flickers in illumination. For a scant second the mirror revels to you dozens of faces, silhouettes within its frame, mouths open and eyes blackened. They stare out at you, their black pupils fixed upon your face.

Then it is done. Are you sure of what you have seen? Unsettled, you don’t sleep for the rest of the evening. The next morning you remove the mirror from your wall and toss it in the trash. It didn’t matter if the vision you had seen was of truth or falsehood, you wanted to be rid of that mirror. In fact, you scrap every mirror in your house.

Weeks pass and the event of that night falls into passive memory. You are spending the day at a friend’s house and it’s time to use the bathroom. While you are in there the faucet starts to run without you prompting it. Taken aback by this, you do not yet act, trying to reason with your paranoia in your mind. The water starts to steam and a skin of moisture covers the mirror up above. You’re watching intently as words form: “Please return the mirrors. We miss watching you sleep at night.”

>>1104203
>>1104204
First part was good, second was meh.

>>1104212
Agreed.

>>1104204

Garbage. Terrible anticlimax of an ending.

>>1104212
I had a hard time bringing it to a close.
Way to fix it?

>>1104200

Not much happened since the event with the face. He awoke from passing out to the window being perfectly clean, with no evidence of any sort of monstrosity trying to smash its way through. Time became something unimportant; his body was beginning to hurt from lack of nourishment, and he was losing the will to move. There he sat, back to the door, watching those windows. Hours? A whole day? It didn't matter. He noticed that his computer had shut itself off at some point, though. Power going out?

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he considered molding his blanket into a makeshift noose and trying to hang himself from the light fixture. It wouldn't be quick, but it'd be escape. Even his mind was no reprieve from the emptiness; when he would drift off, he would still be here, just.. asleep.

Laughing at that, he first mistook the sudden snarl from right outside his door as his own laughter. But then it came again. A guttural sound, and loud, as though it was from something -big-. He was about to get up to turn to face the door, when that something slammed itself against the frame. The entire door shook violently, propelling him forward slightly. He was on his feet in and instant, just in time to see it hit again, this time roaring in what sounded like rage as it did so. Rage that its meal was inside, locked behind an impenetrable door? ..Or is it impenetrable? Again the thing outside snarled and slammed itself into the door, and he could swear it moved even more than before. It clawed at the door a few times, the claws sounding like steak knifes being dragged through the wood, and it sniffed sharply. He could hear it scratching along the floor as it apparently took a few steps back away from the door. And then his heart sunk, as he could -feel- its heavy body thudding across the floor, as it sprinted straight at the door frame, the triumphant squeal that escapes it piercing his ear drums.

>>1104216
I would have like it better if he took an insane approach, when the kid showed up for no reason, then it turned teh shit.

>>1104210
And I just shit myself. Thank you for that. I needed a good scare.

>>1104223
Have the kid flip out on him for deserting him?

>>1104227
No, more like when he got home, he kept hearing children laughing, man wasn't there on that day, he didn't call him, ect.

In a small orphanage in a small village in Russia, there is a young boy. His hair is jet black, and messy, and he tattered jeans and an old dingy grey shirt.
Nothing is known of him. For 10 years, he sat in the bed in his room, never moving, never blinking, never eating or sleeping. In the 10 years, he has not seemed to age at all, continuing to look like a over 9000 year old boy. The only thing that proved he was alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and the refusal to take his eyes off anyone who enters the room alone.
A lone psychiatrist came over in an attempt to find out why the boy had done nothing in 10 years. He entered the room, and shut the door behind him.
30 minutes later, the orphanage's nurse came to check on the 2 of them. Opening the door, she saw the child, still sitting, still not moving, eyes fixed on her. However, something seemed different. He appeared a slight amount larger, not by much, but enough to make him look like a late 8 or early 9 year old. The psychiatrist was no longer in the room. The door was the only exit, as the room had no windows, vents, or anything, and it was, in fact, in the exact centre of the orphanage.

>>1104232
He continued to sit, only seen occasionally by the lady who came in to check on him, and she never closed the door upon entry.
A week or so later, 2 law enforcement personnel entered the orphanage, demanding to speak to the boy about the disappearance of the psychiatrist. The 2 of them entered, closing the door behind him, as the head of the orphanage stood outside the door.
30 minutes passed, and not a sound came from the room. The Head eased the door open. The boy was still on the bed, but the officers where no longer there. The boy was know quite noticeably bigger, about the size of a 15 year old. His skin was darker than usual, and he looked angrier than ever. But one thing remained the same: His cold, unforgiving eyes that stared at whoever entered.
Eventually, the law organized a large group of 10 officers to speak to the boy. They entered the room, and left the door open, until one of the younger orphans ran up and shut it, apparently in a daze.
The head quickly ran to re-open the door, and upon doing so froze him in horror. A low rumbling noise came from the room....

".....One....more...."

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/User:Ironwater/Holder_of_the_end
Read all. Shit bri/x/.

>>1104229
Fuck, i wanna finish it later.
1 am and alone.
Creepy just writing the end.
I'll attempt to make it though.

>>1104233
If you return to that orphanage, you will see it still continues to run. The orphans live in good care, health, and education. However, there is one room, that you sill see is boarded up, and far from enterable. If you ask what is behind it, you will be removed forcefully from the orphanage.
However, when no one's looking, if you place you're ear to the door, you will hear a low ominous growling sound, and if you listen for a bit, you will hear....

".....One.....more...."

>>1104216
Change the end of the first part to:
>It’s just a phone call... right?
And leave off the second bit.

>>1104207

If there's a better version, I'd really like to read it - I like this 'shitty' one lol.

>>1104238
Possible second half?

You wake up at 6:30 like every morning. You brush your teeth, take a shower, and get ready for the day. You ride your bike to your boring job in the office, and work your shift. You get off early today because today is the tenth anniversary of his death and you planned to have dinner with his family. Once again, you take the familiar route home. This time, everything has changed. You hear a child screaming and turn around. No. It can’t be. He died ten years ago. His face is covered with gashes and his clothes stained with blood. “Why did you desert me? Why didn’t you help me? Why did you let me die?” You scream, “You’re dead! Leave me alone!” You ride home as fast as possible. In the back of the head you think “Funny. The man wasn’t there today”. Upon getting home, you lock the doors and windows. You’re paranoid, waiting for the infernal spirit to be there. You check all the rooms. Nothing. You watch T.V. for a couple hours to get your mind off things. Before you know it, it’s well past midnight. Time for bed, you think. As you head off to bed, you hear childish laughter. “It can’t be” you whisper. You make another run through of the house. Halfway through, the laughter stops. You realized no one else is here. All the doors and windows are locked. Must be your imagination.

You finally make it to bed around two. As you begin doze off, you hear the laughter again. You scream “Leave me alone!” The laughter fades, and you finally sleep. You hear whispers : “Why did you leave me? You could have saved me.” You ignore it for as long as possible until it makes it impossible to sleep. You groggily roll onto your back and slowly open your eyes, only to see his decayed and bloody facing staring right back.

>>1104222

He leapt into his bed, away from the door just in time. The door exploded inward, flying into the windows beyond, flying through them into the world outside, leaving a gaping, broken hole that nearly looked like a broken-toothed mouth. Nothing came with the door, however. Only silence. There were no sounds of life outside, and there certainly was not a gigantic beast seeking his destruction. With a mixture of hope and crushing fear, he rolled from his bed, and inched towards the door.

The choked, broken "No," that brushed out of his mouth surprised him. But not as much as the view beyond the doorway. Parts of his home were there. The floor outside continued a few feet past his foor, but dropped away in a circular opening, as though the world's largest canonball had dropped through his home, revealing a scene beyond comprehension. He could see, through the ripped open side of his home, that the neighborhood around him was but a facade.

The world beyond was dark, a world of stone with glaciers of steel. An ashen dust blew on the wind, into his home, and he could see the sun; pale grey, barely shedding light on the world around. But the worst, perhaps, were the creatures walking this dead land. Hundreds of feet tall, with four legs and a body that appeared to be made of the same rock and steel foundation as the world around, yet with no discernable head. However, appearing to grow from the belly of this beast are the heads and arms of humans. Hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands. All screaming, sobbing, and yelling incomprehensible words. He didn't scream then. He couldn't. It wasn't until he gazed skyward, at the black sky above, and noticed the belly of the beast standing directly above, did he start to scream. And he didn't stop. Not even as it began to lower towards him, those hundreds of hands reaching for him, beckoning him, and eventually clawing at him.. No. He never stopped.

>>1104265

Fuck, finally finished. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

>>1104257
Shit's better, after reading the "HES STARING BACK AT YOU", I got the chills.
>>1104267
Fuck yeah original content.

>>1104272
Dude, that o.c. took so long to write.
Glad the second ending is better.
If anything can be done, let me know.
Scared as fuck to go to bed

>>1104274
Yep yep, it's pretty good as a two part story.

>>1104279
Thanks.

Looking back, the original second half sucked monkey nuts

>>1104281
Probably just me, but supernatural things always freaked me out way more compared to "BOO I'M A MONSTER/KILLER JUMING OUT AT YA"

>>1104285
Hahaha.
"I told you you were next"

It's one in the morning. Give me a break. hahaha

>>1104290
Ya, it's fine, don't worry. It's 2 over here. I'm going to sleep. Yay.

>>1104292
Almost 2:30. Better watch out. Hahaha

I'm gonna try to make it to bed as well.

>>1104294
I'll try, but I just read the Christa Copypasta FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF-

>>1104301
Im done for tonight.
Dont know about handling more. hahaha

When she first saw him, she thought that she had never seen anything more beautiful and she loved him then and there.

He said, “I love you,” and she knew it to be true. She had never been happier. “I want you to love me back.”

She did, she did.

“But you haven’t given me your heart. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you love somebody.”

Her heart was his. She told him so.

“Then give it to me.”

And he handed her the knife.

>>1104234
whats this?

>>1104265

Best in the thread, I started to think on "The Mist" when I read it, only more abstract!

good job guise.

glad this thread is still alive

>>1104274
Holy fuck. I would have sex with you on the basis of your writing alone.

>>1104316

what ever it is it's not the sandwich i ordered

It was around this time last year, when winter was creeping in. You could sense it. The growing forebearance... as the darkness sets in and the night takes over as winter gripped my city in it's cold icy claws.

This night would stay in my memories for a long time: It was a cold night, much like tonight, as I walked home from work. I can remember how clear the air was - and how quiet the city was. The roads seemed strangely empty even though it couldn't have been past 8 o'clock.

I had felt strange since i left the warmth from my work and stepped into the night and the walk home seemed to be takeing longer than usual. I felt... a chill gripping me as i trudged my way home. It seemed to be wrapping around me - tighter and tighter as i went.

I could feel it, the cold, climbing up my legs and tightening on my chest. My body felt stiff, my fingers felt rigid and numb. Breatheing became an effort as if a belt was slowly tightening around me. The coldness of the night seemed to have me in it's grip.

My grandmother had warned me about nights like this. I should had taken her words to heart. She always said it's too cold to be wearing shorts and t-shirts in winter.

>>1105056
Obvious troll is obvious

This night would stay in my memories for a long time: It was a cold night, much like tonight, as I walked home from work. I can remember how clear the air was - and how quiet the city was. The roads seemed strangely empty even though it couldn't have been past 8 o'clock.
As I ate my bowl of soup, I kept looking at his picture. He was tall and slender. Brief cut-offs exposed his muscular legs. The words "GAY IS GOOD" stood out across his chest like a brave flagship on the dreary Spokane street. Was this really the Spokane paper?
Fantasizing what his radiant body would look like with no shirt at all, with only his tight little cut-offs clinging to his hips filled my mind. It was a world away from me sitting in the cafe in my pare of gritty overalls.
Just then, he said he was sweltering in the water. A cool shower would be nice. He lifted himself out of the tub and stood all relaxed in the shower. I had never stared at such a beautiful body for so long. He smiled as if he was enjoying the admiration.

>>1104143
Nice one. Was in a movie but not the whole 'my legs are gone' but a clue or something.

As you read this, imagine that dark corner behind you. Picture that spot where the light never seems to touch. The place where if anything wanted to hide in your room, that'd be the place.

Now imagine that, out of that corner, a shadow begins to form. Imagine that shadow slowly creeping its way towards you, keeping perfectly out of your line of sight. You can sense it reaching its elongated fingers toward you. Its breath feels warm yet still manages to send shivers running down your spine. The cold seeps under your skin as the shadow wraps itself around your body, paralyzing you with fear.

Now snap back to reality. Do you think can make it out the door in the three seconds it takes me to get to you?

>>1105112

i had to re read this like 10x

then i raged and killed my dog
Have you ever taken a shower and noticed your shadow on the wall? Do you ever watch your shadow out of the corner of your eye and think that its making weird movements? Do you ever get that awkward feeling that your shadow is watching you? If so, don't drop the soap, because your shadow just might be a pervert.

faggot

The sea was in pain. It thrashed its white tipped arms around, and howled as loud as the wind would allow. It whirled around, quickening its pace by the second. Around and around it went, sucking the whole world down into its stomach. I leaned over my cloud to see deeper into the middle of this great maelstrom. That’s when I first saw it, a great marble and stone city arising in the center. It was majestic…and terrifying. The city looked old, ancient, and wrong, like its geometry was off. The angles weren’t right. I was terrified. I tried to back away from the edge and to the center of cloud, but the cloud disappeared. I fell. I fell for what seemed an eternity, screaming until my throat was bleeding. I awaited the cold splash of the water, but it never came. Instead of an angry ocean, my bed came up to meet me. I jolted up in a cold sweat.

>>1105639
He would awaken soon. I knew it. I’ve known since the first dream I had like this. Every time, the dreams become more vivid, but I’ve never seen the city before. Oh, I’ve known it was there, but that was the first time I’ve seen. I knew exactly where it was located. 47°9?S, 126°43?W in the Pacific Ocean. His followers will be amassing there soon. They know they won’t be spared. No one will be spared. They just want a quick death. The rest of us won’t be so lucky.
No more will his followers stick to the swampy marshlands for their rituals. No longer will they stay hidden. He will punish all those who bring harm to his followers, or so they believe. Collateral damage in a very tasty form is the best way to describe humanity in the eyes of the Elder Gods. There is no where to hide. The Great Priest will find you. You can hide your body, but your mind is his. Never sleep for he owns the dream world. Your sweetest dreams will be turned into the most disturbing nightmares far beyond human comprehension.
If you have any sense, do not try to hide from him. Do not run from him, for if by some miracle you survive the Sleeper, you will not survive the Elder Gods.

-posted alot, but it's my favorite-

During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis, Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time.

Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm's well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).

Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio, police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted a woman recording herself in front of a video camera (seemingly using the same camera the police found in the kitchen). After positioning the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in the image, the tape then showed her turning on the oven, opening the door, crawling inside, and then closing the door behind her. Eight minutes into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently, after which point thick black smoke could be seen emanating from it. For the remaining 45 minutes of video, until the batteries in the camera died, it remained in its stationary position.

To avoid disturbing the local community, police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well, or why the height and stature of the woman in the video didn't come close to matching the body they'd found in the oven.

/r/ing the one about the friends who go camping, find a cabin where scary stuff happens, and doll parts float down the river or something like that.

>>1105643

because the body lost all its water weight and what not and shrunk to an incredibly small size....

police = retarded?

or me= retarded? i know not, except I'm under your bed.

>>1105647
OH SHIT!!

Any who you can determine what a person looks like from their teeth and science. Assuming the teeth weren't burnt to ashes, then they would be able to find out that and who she was.

>>1105636

I lol'd so fucking hard. Thanks for breaking the mood.

In other news, does anyone remember Adrian Mensa?

>>1105656
No, pray tell.

wait.... who lives in spokane?? thats where i live

>>1105639
>>1105641

oh lawd is dat some HPLC

Why has it never occured to you that, perhaps, YOU are the reflection?

>>1105659

it was some OC from about four months ago about a guy who wakes up and everything, the sky, the ground the world is gray. Like a filter has been pulled over his eyes. There were a few times when the world started to blink back over to the real world but then he would go back, and a girl friend of his was stuck there too.

It was a really good story, but, being a dick, I Bel'Aired him and sadly, the trend picked up until no one could tell who was posting the original story and who wasn't.

I've done a lot of trollish shit here but that was the one thing I ever regretted.

>>1105645
Found and delivering shortly
>>1105665
Man that sucks. I would like to read it but it looks like it's not going to happen.

I don't know what to do anymore. I’m so scared and I can't trust anyone.

I went camping about three weekends ago in the Huntsville national forest in Texas. Me and three friends that came home for the weekend, they are all in college and usually we all get together at least once a year, old friends from high school. For the camping trip we planned to go backpacking deep in the forest, live off of fish that we catch and animals that we can trap. We have been doing this for awhile in Texas and in numerous places, Arizona, Colorado (if anyone is familiar with the Spanish peaks there), New Mexico, so we‘re pretty much used to anything you‘d encounter out there.

It was my turn to pick where we went camping, so I chose Huntsville (more accurately it’s Huntsville/New Waverly). So we drive up there park our car in a camping park spot and start walking off into the forest. We had some laughs along the way, everyone catching up with eachother's lives. We walked until it started to get dark and set up camp where we stopped. Everyone gathered wood to make a fire and we set our tent up. And we do what we always do: try and scare each other with weird stories.

>>1105667
Around this time we started to smell something very faint. It was noticeable, but not overbearing. We couldn't put our finger on what it was, so we just carried on. Mike had to go piss and he walked off in the forest. A second later he come running back, piss all down his jeans like he’d missed really bad. Immediately we all crack up and throw some jokes at him. Then we noticed that he was white as snow and trying to catch his breath. He starts screaming for us to follow him, and runs off.

We all get serious and go follow him, not knowing what the problem was. We start to hear a faint scream and crying in the distance, in the direction we were running. It was pitch black away from the camp and Mike had the only flash light (we left ours at the camp, he had his from his trip taking a piss), so at this stage we didn’t have much choice but to follow the light, which was frantically pointing here and there in front of him.

The scream gets closer and Mike starts to slow down. We then notice a ratty old cabin that looked like it was abandoned, except for a faint light that we could see from one of the old mildew covered windows. The crying was intense: whoever it was couldn't breathe enough to let out a full yell. We all followed Mike up to the front door and we could all hear the crying from inside. As soon as he knocked on the door it stopped.

>>1105671
We all waited and heard really heavy footsteps walking fast to the door. There was a giant slam against the door and the sound of a bolt unlocking. Then nothing. We waited for a bit, knocked a few more times, but still nothing happened. We walked around the house (there was no fucking way any of us were leaving each other’s side) and noticed a window, which was a good way up. Alex took a deep breath and said asked us to give him a boost so he could see inside. Me and Mike lifted him up to the window. We watched him brush away dirt and webs from the window and place his face close to the window to try and see something.

There was a quick beat. Then suddenly he breathed in fast and let out a loud scream. Then he fell back from the window, screaming bloody murder the whole way. We all tried to calm him down but he was hysterical. We went to him but he started to shake, punch, kick, you name it, and then took off towards the camp.

None of us wanted to be separated so we all ran close behind him. We caught up to him and grabbed him and set him down. The fire was dying out so I grabbed some nearby wood that we collected added it to the fire. My hands were shaking and I had to do something. I went back to Alex and we all tried to calm him down. He wouldn't he kept screaming and was breathing so hard that he eventually fainted.

>>1105675
All of us are terrified now, and we all kept the fire high until sunrise. Periodically Alex kept waking up, screaming just like before. By sunrise he was up and looked catatonic, just mumbling to himself and whimpering.

Me and Mike decide to go look at the cabin now it was daylight. We searched where we thought it was, except there was nothing there. Nothing at all. The indistinct smell from last night had now grown into a very strong smell of something dead, something stale. We headed back to the camping site. When we got there we found Alex had chewed into the sides of his face and swallowed so much blood that he was throwing up. John was at his back, and he looked like he was about to die from exhaustion. I guess we all looked that way, I just didn't notice until I saw his face. Alex said quietly that we need to leave. Now.

We all started to pack up the tent. It started to rain really heavily (it was about noon) and the sky started to grow really dark. Alex started to go into a panic. He went and grabbed a big stick and yelled at us to leave it and leave, now, or he‘d knock us out and drag us out of there himself. Mike started to yell at him, and they started to fight. We broke it up and finished packing, and then started to make our way back. After a little while we arrived at a creek we had crossed the previous day, only it was flooded over, and the water was moving to fast for us to cross it. Alex started to scream again, yelling at Mike for taking his time packing up the tent when we could have gotten out of here. This went on for a while until we finally convinced Alex to calm down and tell us what happened.

>>1105679
He said as soon as he put his face to the glass, a face on the other side did the same thing, and started to smile really big. It had dark eyes and a dark mouth which was much bigger then Alex's, as the smile got as large as it could. A giant shadow behind it swung something down and sliced it‘s face off. The face was stuck to the window, and he said it started to laugh quietly as it slid down. Mike, still pissed off (and though he wouldn‘t admit it, beginning to get freaked out), started to argue with him again. We eventually started to follow the creek for a way to cross.

We then started to see toys floating in the creek. Really old toys, old Barbie dolls and baby dolls. This wasn't like any old trash floating in the creek, though… this was a lot of barbies, a lot of baby dolls. One washed towards the side and Mike picked it up. It had some kind of voice chip that was dying and started to say some gurgling words we couldn't understand, followed by it’s sad excuse for laughter. Then it sounded like it was whispering. We thought the batteries must be dying, he threw it down.

We kept going, and the sun was starting to set. Alex was freaking out more now, and was whimpering and breathing heavily. We all started to see shadows move behind trees, something we all called BS on until we all were seeing it. It was barely light out and we stop as we see the cabin right in front of us. None of us knows what to think. Mike says “This is bull, I’m going in there.” Alex tries to stop him. We all do, all of us just wanted to go home. Mike says to all of us to fuck off, do our own thing, he doesn't care anymore, this is all bull.

>>1105681
We start to hear hundreds of the same sort baby doll as before, laughing, whispering and trying to sing. We start to move forward past the cabin, all of us, and kept pushing forward. We smelled something dead in the air, something stale. The same something as before. We started to hear something crying, and something screaming. We kept on going. We eventually crossed the creek and left the woods. We get back to our vehicle and got in. Its pitch black, and we drive. We are about to get on the 45 to Houston but the road is under construction and can't be accessed. It points to a detour. As we head towards the detour it seems to be small, bumpy dirt road going into the woods.

We then see a young girl come up to us. She looks like she was in trouble, young and pretty. She approaches the passenger side door and she looks like she‘s really drugged up, or beaten up. Alex doesn't roll down the windows, nor does he open the door. She reaches for the handle and he immediately locks it. She puts her face on the window and starts to smile really big. We floor it, Alex starts to cry and scream and we are all breathing heavy. We finally cut on a street that takes us to the 45 and we take it the whole way. When we get back to my apartment everyone doesn't know what to say and we all break apart and go our separate ways.

>>1105666
There's an Adrian Mensa .doc on /rs/.

>>1105689
Mike messages me later and says he is going to go back. I try to convince him not to and all he does is say it was our own minds that were screwing with us. I think he just went to prove to himself he wasn’t scared. I can smell that stench everywhere now. I don't go out anymore, I just stay in and don't answer the door. Last week everyone I met was acting really strange, people that I knew for a long time and total strangers. My own dad, when I went to his place to eat supper with him he just watched me, strangely, when I was sitting down. He didn't say a word the whole time. I kept asking him “What’s wrong?” He just slowly shook his head.

When I was leaving to go home I turned to wave. He had black eyes and an open mouth like he was in pain. When I started to walk back he shut the door and bolted it. I stayed there knocking and knocking. Nothing. I called him, his phone was disconnected. I even called the police. Halfway through the questions they were asking me the connection started to fade into static. I could hear a faint mumbling, singing and laughing.

Mike has completely vanished. There is not even a record of him being alive. When I call Alex’s house they talk to me like I’m some salesman. They say they don't know any Alex and to please stop calling. The person who tells me that is Alex‘s mother. I can’t get ahold of John. Someone knocked on my door and when I went to look I saw a face completely covering the peephole and a giant smile started to form.

>>1105697
I called the cops again and instead of it turning into static they got really strange. “Sir, are you affected by any drugs at the moment?” “No.” “Are you coming home anytime soon?” “Excuse me?” “Come home.” and the phone call ended. My mail slot swings every now and then. Someone is sliding pieces of baby dolls through it. I try to call people now and all I can hear is static and bad baby doll noises and this crying and screaming. My TV is busted but when I go to piss I can hear it on. I might be going insane.

Whoever lives above me started to scream in pain and crying deeply recently. I hear giant footsteps from their apartment, I hear bangs and something falling to the ground. From the neighbors to the right of my apartment I hear what sounds like a baby that never gets tended too and then it sounds like a baby doll whose batteries are dying. My phone has been ringing now and it’s Alex telling me things in a language that I have never heard before, nor could even manage to repeat. I kept getting emails of pictures of black and small colorations, now I can't even access my email. Someone knocks on the door, then they slam against it. I hear the bolts unlocking one by one and I run to make sure to lock all of them back and sit down crying.

>>1105703
What do I do? My electricity keeps dimming. My water, sinks, bath, shower, all smell like something dead. I keep seeing a shadow of someone behind me raising something up in the air, and I just take off to the other side of the apartment with my head against the wall. I have boarded my windows shut, someone was throwing rocks through them. I never could see who. I have boarded my bedroom in, I hear crying and screaming in there now. And right now while I’m typing this I can see the reflection off the computer screen of some shadow behind me.

-End-

>>1105690

sweet! but it's not all of what he had :( thanks anyways

/r/ing the story about the kid who has the old man come into his room....

has a really /rage/ ending

>>1104143
I don't get it. So who's teddy?

>>1105704

No lies here, and my heart is racing. I just read all this shit and then the phone rings. I'm at a hotel and have my cell so I wonder who's calling. Soon as I get to it, it stops.

/x/.... I am genuinely freaked the fuck out.

>>1105761
His little brother. The mom has Alzheimer's.

>>1104189
Um, whats the fucking point? WHY NOT JUST WRITE IN IT THE GODDAMN LETTER? Why be so cryptic about it? Fail story is fail.

>>1105704
AN HERO NOW O GOD YOU ARE IN SOME DEEP SHIT

>>1105724
I've got two Adrian Mensa threads saved from May. The first ends slightly after "He glances down to check his progress." The second one is where it derails. I can upload them if you want.

Also, someone claiming to be the author showed up in late October, but I've only got two posts of a thread and have no idea if he was the real author. Tripcode was "Adrian Mensa !!CHb58cWza8p", which is obviously not one used back in May.

>>1105765
There is like, no way you can be this god damn retarded. No way in hell.

>>1105765
The camp was checking the mail, and if they didn't like what he'd written they would have done worse than cut off his legs.

>>1105767

Post them please

>>1105768
Oh shut the fuck up. The story sucked and was no way fitting for any creepypasta. Go QQ because the dumb story made you shit bri/x/
>>1105769
Makes sense, still a dumb story.

>>1105762
0.0 sry dude. Hopefully it will be quick and painless.

>>1105769

who the fuck does that with the stamp.

Besides thats such a much shittier version of that story

>>1105767

I remember all the way up to the point where he was in one building, he had just met some sort of hairy thing, and then he was going into a hallway. That was the beginning of the end.

>>1104225
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyopd8nedng

enjoy it

>>1105772
I didn't say it was scary at all. That doesn't change the fact that you've got about as many brain cells as a pile of shat bri/x/.

>>1105770
>>1105775

All I've got:
http://www.megaupload.com/?d=BI3DSBUD

yup. I was 632311 and 632312, as well as 633228, warning him against the very slight I would soon engage.

Thanks for posting what was done. Maybe some day he'll come back.

am sure most of /x/ knows about these, being the resident OC writers, but they are relevant to the thread:

http://thejosefkstories.blogspot.com/
http://editthis.info/black_fedora/Main_Page

I assume josef k. will have another one tonight or tomorrow.... Has anyone seen Black Fedora in a while?

>>1105815
No.....

>>1105815
Black Fedora said he'd be too busy to write for awhile a few months ago. He's posted on /x/ since, specifically in a thread about the Tree Man a few weeks ago, so he's still around.

My dad told me this story when I was twelve years old and we were on a camping trip in the forests of Texas.

He had just moved into his own apartment for the first time. He was going to college and he had a job, and he had rented a small, one bedroom apartment near his job and the campus he was attending. On one of the first few nights he spent there, from outside his door came a loud knocking. Someone was knocking at the door, but not his door. They were knocking on the one across the hall. My dad didn't think much of it, of course, but the knocking continued for awhile and it began to annoy him. It was loud, frantic, irregular in its rythym, and each knock pissed my dad off a little more. Eventually he decided to go look out his peephole and see what the commotion was all about. When he looked out the peephole, there was a woman standing right outside of HIS door, staring into the peephole, right at him. My dad was shocked and he backed away from the door. He had expected to see someone across the hall, with their back to him. He checked that the door was locked, then he looked back out the peephole. No one was there. The hall was empty. And... the knocking had stopped.

>>1105829

He stared out into the hall for a while, confused as to what was happening, when suddenly the door across the hall opened and a man stepped out. He was around 50 (my dad was in is mid-twenties at the time). The older man looked down the hall in both directions. He was obviously frightened and confused. He went over to my dad's door and knocked quietly, hesitantly. My dad opened the door, and asked what was going on. The older man admitted he was just as confused as my father. He had been coming home to his apartment a few minutes before, but as he was walking down the hall he saw a woman at the other end, staring at him. He said her face looked like pure evil. He was scared of her so he quickly opened his door and went inside, then locked it. He watched out his peephole as the woman came slowly down the hall to stand in front of my father's door. The look on the woman's face scared the older man so much that he began frantically knocking on his door, hoping to alert whoever lived across the way (my dad) of the danger outside. The woman just stood there for the longest time as the older man kept pounding on his door in warning. After a while she turned and ran off without making a sound.

I don't know if that's very scary to you /x/, but when I was 12 years old in the middle of the dark woods, it scared the hell out of me. Anyway, there you go. True story, as far as I know.

>>1105758
/r/ing this as well

>>1105758
Hmm, I normally have good luck in finding these. I'll work my magic.

Hey found some black fedora stuff:
http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/the-works-of-black-fedora

Don't turn around. It doesn't like to be seen.

>>1105849
same stuff as>>1105815...

>>1105835
'Okay, do you remember a line from it or anything?

>>1105859
fuck, sorry.

here's a classic everyone can enjoy

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.

This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn't make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."

>>1105758

Is this the story about the guy who moves into a house where the old couple allegedly killed themselves but he starts seeing their ghosts and they show him a warning about what's about to happen to him? You know, it involves a dude in a yellow rain jacket? I don't want to spoil it in case anyone here hasn't seen it.

>>1104139
true story happen to my aunt the night my grand mother died . my grandma had been getting sick really bac she had cancer and was going through cemo alot one night after my aunt put my grandme to bed she went down stair to go to bed her self laid down and was just about to go to bed when she thought she heard my grandma say her name so she roled over to get up and saw a figure in the door way to her room and saw that it waws my grandma the figure walk to the edge of her bed and walk through the bed through my aunt and through thr wall out the house (idk i think my aunt said she said some thing to here befor she walked throught the bed but i dont remember) but then my aunt got really scared and ran up stairs to see where my grandma was and she was sitting in her chair with a happy look like at peace and she had died not to long after my aunt put her to sleep

>>1105758
I know exactly the one you're talking about, but I can't find it atm.

>>1105872
Now in convenient comic form!

Btw, anyone have the one with the capitalized letters that spell: YOURE OUR SNOW?

>>1105876
No...

Basically it starts out with the kid talking about this old hobo guy outside his window everynight

and then he starts hearing a tapping on his window....on his door....ect don't wanna tell anymore due to others who haevnt read it

>>1105881

for a freaky, dead albino chick she's pretty hot.

I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back.

I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back then, since they’d just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew better.

I had tried to remove them as a child, but without avail. Scissors, knives, potato peelers; trying to cut or scrape them off was always a lost cause because I couldn’t continue once the pain kicked in.

But today was different. It’s amazing how numb you can get with a couple of tourniquets and a bottle of Jack Daniels. I was originally planning to use a sharp knife, but figured that trying to slice through the tough flesh of the growths would be too arduous in my drunken state. I opted for the slightly more technological plan B.

I had to hurry though. I was already pretty light-headed and was starting to feel dizzy. My hands and forearms, nearly blue from the lack of circulation, couldn’t wait much longer either. The whirring of the blender helped to put me in a sort of trance–ready to do what I had wanted to do since I first looked down at my strange deformities.

I shoved my left hand in first. The immediate sensation of sharp blades slicing through flesh was jarring, but I was surprised at how well the alcohol was working–I expected it to hurt more. I could hear the sharp metal churning and cutting, working perfectly as planned. I pressed my hand down harder. All those bad memories, all of the embarrassment–all of those horrible things were now nothing more than a thick red pulp.

Breaking from the feelings of ecstasy, I pulled out before the blades hit knuckle. I smiled, taking a good look at my new hand. As for the growths–well, five down, and five to go.

>>1105929
shat bri/x/

well done

/r/ing the cordyceps one

>>1105881
http://www.creepypasta.com/help-us/

The SNOW one.

In this fickle world...

In this coy and cloying world...

In this the best - can it be true? - of all possible worlds...

One must butter one's bread on the sunny side of the street. One must keep a stiff lower grip. One must...

One must remember: there are things to be thankful for. We have so much to be grateful, to be thankful for.

Here are ten things to be thankful for.

>>1105959

1.
Be thankful you are not strolling through a park on a pretty spring day, minding your own mind, and thinking about whether or not to call the corporate head-hunter back, when you find that you have to pee, you have to pee badly and there's nowhere to go within a quarter mile, and it's a big park, a bushy park, and you've taken that liberty in the park's bushes before, and you sort of enjoy the occasional outdoors pee, so you step off the path and pee off an embankment, through some ferns, watching them bob with the impact of the stream, and you finish and turn and see two men standing there blocking your way and they tell you that you've just peed on their home, their mattresses, because there's a homeless encampment under the embankment, and you complain of entrapment but it's not applicable and it's no good and you try to feint to the left and dart to the right but they are used to people trying to dodge past, they're not your average homeless joes, they're predacious street people, and one of them grabs you and so does his smell, the smell of a whole cattle-car of people in one man, and you can see the lice squirm in his beard an inch from your face as he bear-hugs you, and you can look into his eyes, one of them skyblue and the other the color of spat phlegm...

>>1105951
That's one of Josef K's.
see:
>>1105815

>>1105961

...and the second guy who's lean and blue with tattoos from the waist up, he kicks you at the base of the spine again and again as you try to scream but the bear-hugger stuffs his beard in your mouth and with a strangely high-pitched giggle, says he always does that, as you struggle amazed not at his strength but at your own feebleness, and then the telling crack with another practiced workboot kick, the meaningful crack of your spine and the pain that in your mind is like a picture of jagged radiating three-dimensional arrows made of rusty iron, pain with weight, and the bearded one falls on you as you fall back and there's more cracking and crackling as you hit the hard ground of the ravine's lip and your head is hanging over the edge of the embankment, and the other guy grabs onto your neck and jumps off into the ravine, and that feeling is like a spin-painting with only the colors black and green, and the vertebrae come apart, and he swings from your head and neck as the other guy, drooling with laughter, holds on and the vertebrae pull farther apart and you remember when you were in kindergarten you drew a picture of a bear jumping over a fence only no one could make out what you'd drawn, and now other tramps come laughing, hooting, to swing on your head and neck as the vertebrae part completely and when they get bored they kick your body like a bean bag amazed that you're still alive, but you're not alive for long. That could happen to you. Be grateful that isn't happening to you. It could be. It's not. Be thankful.

>>1105963

2.
Be grateful that you're not a child in Thailand who's sold by his parents to a Bangkok child-brothel, and you're amazed that your mother kissed you goodbye as if you were going to visit a relative, as if you would see her again, and you thought that they would take the money from the man and then tell you to run away with them but they didn't even look back as you are led weeping, the weeping bone-dry, up the creaking wooden stairs in the narrow alley in back of the building, a squeezed building that would fall over but for the buildings on either side, and then they beat you the first time just to introduce you to beatings and to initiate you into the magnitude of your subservience but really it's a half-hearted beating compared to the second time when you refused to let the fat American fuck you in the ass while his friend, a tall skinny man who coos at you in an undertone as if convincing himself he's being tender, shoves his stubby thick member in your mouth and makes circular motions with his hips and, though you stomached that, when you felt the penetration from behind, you wrenched free and ran to hide under the bed and wouldn't come out till Kimaritchul, squat and strong, flipped the bed to one side and began - with a strangely anomalous look of patience in his eyes, like a horsetrainer - kicking you in the soft parts, very expertly, so as not to break anything but so as to introduce deep, deep bruises that hurt with your every movement all night long, each stab of pain speaking with Kimaritchul's unspoken voice, as you let the two men do what they wanted with you, after the skinny one made noises as if he disapproved of what the guard had done to you, and then goes on to fuck you till you choke and lose consciousness, but unfortunately you don't die, not till two years later when your kidney ruptures and they throw you in the canal. That's something to be grateful for: that's not happening to you.

>>1105966

3.
Be grateful that you're not recovering from your third diabetes amputation, leaving you one limb, your left arm, while the nurses, especially the one with the harelip and the dyed-blond with the long neck and slumped shoulders, give you filing looks, they're mentally filing you as human detritus that hasn't been picked up yet, filing you under hopeless and meaningless and simply a bothersome fulfillment of duty, that duty dwindling, on no one's instructions, day by day, the sponge-baths going from once a day to once every two days to once a week, the turning for bedsores following precisely the same declension, as if by clinical planning, the kindly remarks and encouragements and inquiries falling off to almost none, the eye contact vanishing entirely, the visits from the doctor also down to once a week, then once every ten days, the food which, after all, you can feed to yourself if they'd bring it, since you have one limb, even if you can't reach every part of yourself for a sponging without falling off the bed: the food coming only twice a day now and if you start whining about anything it comes only once; the television left on a channel that has gone off the air for good and then they say the TV is broken when it's not, and the talk about the lack of available beds, oh if only one would open up, within your hearing, their skill at indirectly conveying a sense of some imagined personal injury, their indifference to your tale of the night orderly who comes in and holds down your remaining arm and slaps you with a look of slack-mouthed concentration, four or five times before hearing footsteps and hurrying away, the nurse outraged when you try to tell the doctor she's forgot your insulin, the coma creeping up on you just as you smell the decay growing in your remaining limb... Something to be thankful for: that isn't happening to you.

-I'm still looking for the old guy one, I'm putting this one in to keep the thread alive-

In Finland there is an old but still inhabited yellow apartment, situated in a small city near an important railroad. Almost all of the people living there are over 70 years old and in fact it seems that younger people simply won’t stay there for longer than a year.

If you live there you will soon notice several unusual things. In the basement the text “TURN ON THE LIGHT. TURN OFF THE LIGHT WHEN YOU LEAVE” is written next to every light switch. It’s unusual to remind somebody of something so obvious, but here it is of critical importance.

People who forget something in the basement never return to pick it up. If you offer to go and retrieve it for them they will stop you from doing so.

There is one door there, between some storage doors that has no numbers on it. Instead the door has a worn-out nameplate on it. The people in the flat will tell you to leave that door alone. It is said that people who have peeked in the keyhole have seen very unsettling things.

The wires and pipes in the basement look amazingly old, yet still the house has perfectly functioning water, electricity and phone lines.

The laundry room, which is in the basement, must be reserved if you want to use it. If you go there without reserving a time first you will at first get weird looks and some scolding. Then people will more ominously and angrily warn you.

These things may seem minor but those, usually the young ones, who have got too curious or failed to follow the rules have ended up either dead, crippled or insane. Usually people say that these incidents were the result of drug use or alcoholism, but some of the freak accidents cannot be explained by anything.

>>1105968

4.
Thank your particular deities that you are not completely convinced, utterly convinced, granite-pillar and steel-brace convinced, that there is a large parasite growing in your intestines, a parasite that is a mutated variant on a tapeworm, but stubbier and thicker and intelligent, a wormish thing with jawparts like human fingers only translucent, rubbery, capable of grasping, and it's pushed its grip through the tissues of your intestines to grab some inner organ, sometimes your liver, sometimes your spleen, lately you suspect it's moved to squeezing your bladder shut because you can't urinate, and your ankles are swelling and somehow this pleases it, and you can even hear it at times, as it can take words from your mind and give them back to you, to persuade you not to fight it, that's one of its survival adaptations, to whisper there are many parasites within all people, as everyone knows, flora the doctors call them, micro-organisms, and there are mites living in your eyebrows, and they eat dead skin and the fellows in your intestines help release trapped electrolytes from food and think of me as just another step, another kind of benign parasite, for if you relax and let me move freely I'll love you, I'll push in and out of you, and I'll reach out of your ass to caress your genitals, but only if you're quite still and trusting, you must surrender completely, and you must not scream when you see me.

>>1105959
Oh god. This one is so evil and vile, I can't really enjoy. Really well written, but there's no structure, it's just ten buckets of bile and bones.

>>1105971

It whispers such things to you, but you're contemptuous of its sluggish efforts at persuasion, it is a thing of lower orders and cannot persuade like a TV commercial can, or not as well as some commercials anyway, perhaps, and it cannot be trusted, and as the doctors are in denial, out of sheer ineffable horror, refusing to acknowledge the presence of the thing, you must, of course, cut yourself open with what over-the-counter topical anaesthetic you can manage, and fight your own arm which tries not to cut any further as you penetrate to the layer of membrane over the intestines, but which you, in the unshakeable determination of your absolute will, overcome, triumphing as, laying in the bathtub naked and trying to staunch the blood with towels with your free hand, you cut with shaking fingers a long jagged rent in the large intestine, for a full fourteen inches, and lay the intestine open, and find the parasite within...is gone, is somehow gone, and as you bleed to death you think you hear it whispering from the drain. Be grateful that isn't you. Be thankful.

>>1105970
How do I know this? I used to go and help my grandmother who lived in that apartment and I have seen several times how ambulance has dragged away young people who have missed an arm, sometimes some other parts also. The worst case was when I found a corpse that looked like an explosion victim in the laundry room. His guts were spattered all around the room and his left arm was sitting on top of the washing machine.

Before her death my grandmother told that she knows what’s behind these incidents. After the 2nd world war there was a shortage of apartments and one war veteran who had lost his left arm was given a rudimentary room in the basement for no cost if he would help people to do laundry and help the janitor. He did, but eventually someone insulted him way or another. The veteran killed that youngster and himself. Ever since his spirit has been there, harshly punishing those who fail to follow the rules of his home. After telling this she told me that I should never ever return to the apartment as I knew too much.

As I left the apartment for the last time I could see the figure of an old, old man missing his left arm staring at me, reflected on the large glass panel on the door to the stairway…

>>1105974

5.
Be thankful, too, that you're not trapped in the rubble after the terrorist bomb has reduced the building to a shuddering clinker of ragged stone, two days now, and the sounds of rescuers are very, very, very distant, eloquently distant, and you're in a chamber that was not made for habitation, under many tons of rock, with your arms and legs angled - unbroken! - in odd Jerry Lewis postures, like a dancing Keith Haring drawing, only you're losing sensation in your legs because circulation is cut off by a stone that presses just hard enough, but your arms are aching with sensation, and, when you move, the rocks above nudge a little closer, a little lower, and small scavenging beetles begin to appear, you can hear their rattling legs on the stones, feel them brush past your mouth, your ears, and you can't feel them begin on your legs, there's no circulation there, but there's a sense of something flowing out of you down there, a coldness that seeps up from your calves to your knees, to your thighs, as you hear the child suddenly wake up and begin screaming for its mother, and you open your mouth to try to speak words of comfort but something chitinous climbs into your mouth and chokes you and... Be grateful, thankful, that isn't you.

>>1105978

6.
Be thankful for what you have; be grateful: You might be a child of ten and you might be that child in a leather bag, tied shut, hardly any room, a bag with holes punched in it, listening to the two men talk about police pursuit, feeling the van lurch left and right as they turn corners, hearing one of them say, with the joy of a lottery winner, ain't nobody coming after us, was nobody there to see the license number, no pursuit, Joe, we're home free...as you hear that the implications come alive in you and make you claw at the bag and try to scream through the tape over your mouth and one of them slams you through the leather with that two by four you saw just before they pushed you in and it knocks all the breath out of you and as you're getting breath back, each breath stabbing now, he says something about you better hold still in there, you better be glad you're in that bag there and not out here with me you little peter-pusher, and the other one says don't scare him no more'n you have to, I don't want to have to gag him after we take him out, I want his mouth free after I take that tape off. But they're taking some kind of drug, you can't tell what, you hear them say crystal, and after they make those snorting sounds you can tell from their voices they're losing what control of themselves they have and you feel an icicle become part of your back and realize it's that sharpened screwdriver the red-headed man had, he's sticking it through the bag at random here and here and there, into you, just a half inch in here, and an inch there and it scrapes off your shoulderblade and he's laughing and his friend says wait, wait till we get to the woods, and when they do, when they take you out of the bag their faces hurt more than the tools and soon you beg them please, please kill me, but you don't quite die before they shovel the dirt over your eyes. But then you do. Be glad that's not you, be grateful, be thankful. We have much to be thankful for.

"He was sitting across from me on the 7:50 bus to midtown. I'd never seen him before, but I usually had my iPod with me, for the express purpose of not having to look at people. He was wearing the generic uniform of the homeless person, coats atop coats, nothing fitting exactly. His eyes fixed on the middle distance as he mumbled something to himself.

He seemed not to acknowledge the fact that I was staring at him, or that no one else on the bus noticed him at all. His mouth worked ceaselessly, words falling out, unheard and unheeded.

Just as I moved to pull the stop line, he jerked upright and looked directly at me.

I was pinned. His eyes were bloodshot and dry. He seemed to be drawing closer, though I was sure neither of us moved. His rapid mouth-breathing poured into my ears like saltwater. As his eyes came ever closer to my face, I saw that they were not real eyes, they were wooden. Painted pupils and irises from a carnival catalog. His lips were impossibly dry, cracked and peeling. Inside his mouth there was no tongue. A knot of cobweb and dust, strung through his teeth yet still elastic. An oddly pleasant smell. Darkness.
He was still mumbling as I left the bus. I never saw him again."

>>1105982

7.
Be thankful you're not running on legs that are losing their bones; that's how it feels, as you run, as if the bones in your legs are melting, you're sinking as you run into the street, because you've been running this way for two miles and you're fat and you're not a kid anymore as the truck chases you across the open desert, under a sun that never takes a breath, never relents, the pickup just ten feet behind, driving you ahead of it, with a man and a woman and three children in it, the children laughing loudest of all, as you fall in the cacti, naked in the cacti, and get up and run on, and on, stumbling and running, your feet ribbons of flesh, your heart almost louder than their voices and the gunning engine and they are calling you Mexi-nigger, Mexi-nigger you'd better get up but your bones have dissolved completely now and you can't get up and Dad lets the kids, even the girl, practice with the .22 on you, they shoot you in the hips and buttocks and you don't feel it much because of the exhaustion and the fear till one of the slugs hits your pelvis and splinters it and then there's nothing in all the universe but those splinters chewing out of your hip, nothing, anyway, till they lock the chains to your ankles and begin to drag you behind the truck, talking about how those ol' boys in Texas going to be startin' a fad, here, now son I want you to see what a fat Mexi-nigger's guts look like, whoa look at that and his shit too-

Consider: that's not you. It could be you. It's not. Be thankful.

>>1105989

8.
Yes be thankful, you'd better be absolutely grateful that you're not in the bus when it goes off the bridge and fills with water and your little girl, eight years old, beside you, is looking at you with amazement because somehow you've made this happen and you'll never have time to explain that, despite pretending all her life that you could prevent things like this from happening, in fact, my little love, I was lying, all this time, something like this could happen anytime and only some perverse and unmappable grace prevents it from happening more, it's amazing when we're barreling along by the millions at sixty, seventy, eighty miles an hour on our steaming, tarry freeways that it doesn't happen more, it's amazing that cancer and plane-crashes and murder and war don't happen even more than they do, given that people are just mandrills with clothes on, my little sweet, so you should not be surprised, and I'm sorry I didn't prepare you for this...

>>1105966

I am NOT fat. I'm portly.

>>1105991

...all this passing through your head in a split second as you see that look in her face right before the bus hits the estuary, slams the both of you off the ceiling of the bus with bone-cracking force, and since your left shoulder shatters you have only your right arm to try to get her through the one open window within reach as water fills the bus, but there's a ferret-faced man, the one who said he was a lawyer, who's pushing your daughter out of the way so he can swim through, who's kicking you in the face to keep you from jerking him back from the window to let her through, and both of you are fighting underwater and beyond him you glimpse more than a dozen pallid faces with bubbles surging up from their mouths as they flap their arms and you claw at him to try to get him out of the way so you can get her through that window but she is clawing at you in desperation, clawing at your eyes, your own child without knowing gouges out one of your eyes in terror, and then the darkness closes down on you both and it has nothing reassuring, nothing restful in it at all, but just a shattering emptiness and... Count your blessings, because that could be you: be grateful that isn't you...

>>1105955
WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

You're our snow?

Huh?

>>1105995

9.
Be grateful, thank your ancestors, thank your stars, that you're not being strapped down in the metal chair, that you're not seeing those two distinct sharp-edged expressions, either one or the other, on the faces of the people watching through the glass, either studied indifference or a fascination that's less than pornographic but not so very much less, and there are people murmuring to you just as if they care that you're about to be choked to death with chemicals, but they don't, not really, they don't actually care and they won't think about it after tomorrow or the next day, and the fact, the unblemished, untarnished certainty that you and only you have, that you're innocent, you really are innocent, not "they all say they're innocent," but authentically innocent, and that not only will it be believed that you raped and strangled two women whom you never saw or heard of till you were arrested for supposedly doing it, after someone stole your car and used it in the crime, someone who looks a little like you; not only will it be believed by the public, by history, that you were a murderer, but your wife, your children, your father and mother will believe that you are guilty, even though they made cardboard protestations to the contrary, ultimately they will believe it, and so the children will blame you for abandoning them, and no one will ever be truly sorry, except maybe the children, who will also hate you, no one will be sorry that you are now hearing the sound of the chamber door clicking shut, the last time you will hear a door shut, that you are hearing the sound of the cyanide capsules hitting the bucket to release the poison into the air; no one will really, not really care that you have only one last clean breath in your lungs as you shake and choke and shake and die knowing you are innocent and being killed for nothing. Be grateful, show some gratitude: that could have been you. And it's not.

>>1105997

10.
Be thankful, breathe a sigh of relief and nod your head in humble gratitude that you're not a neurotic fan of perverse dark literature, horror or crime or dark fantasy, a reader, at least today, of the obsessively-etched stimuli that is one of your few releases from the smothering sense of is-this-all-there-is in your life, that you're not that sort of person, reliant on occasional corrosive chemicals or puerile graphic images for relief from the inarticulate and undefined and never acknowledged knowledge that you are being hunted, something just out of the circle of your perceptions is hunting you: a fear; a fear of your own meaninglessness, your own irrelevance, your trappedness in a dead-end, soulless, monkey-masturbatory, mazelike civilization that you mock like a bad videogame even as you sock in another quarter, as your brain turns slowly, slowly inside your skull, scanning for an exit in an exitless world, as you lurch onto the next half-satisfying stimulus like the dying cocaine rat that pushes the lever; as you realize that your understanding of the unknown sculpture is really only the chisel-scrapings at the foot of the sculpture, and you never have seen the sculpture, and that you're really truly trapped in a culture that, despite your arch commentary, your well-honed irony, your media-fed sardonicism, has conditioned and programmed you just as thoroughly as any shopping-channel-fixated Tennessee housewife; that despite your creative conceits you're probably going to degrade yourself for the opportunity to die in an upscale old-people's home instead of an SRO hotel, probably of a painful and under-medicated cancer, after your youth is burned up in media dreams and gossip that has a life of its own and relationships that jar and sputter and circle blindly like bumper cars, and the loneliness of the long distance consumer, a hollow life in a hollow society of equally hollow people-

>>1105996
We pee in you and make you yellow. We then warn our children not to eat you.

>>1105962
Tanks, my good man. I haven't read that since it was posted.

>>1106010

Be glad and grateful that's not...that it's not...not...
Oh. I see.

Oh, I...

I wasn't thinking. Ah. It is? Well...I...

Sorry.

-END-

>>1105704
But was it raeally the end?
He gasp and ask what am I going to do and said you asked for it so wait and see. I opened his but cheeks with both my hands and continue my tongue tour. As I reached his love hole and flicked my tongue over and around the sensitive area. I slowly pass over and back to his balls. I put my tongue into his hole and I can taste him. He gasp and said please no more but pushing his but up into my face. I went deeper with my tongue and he gasp harder. I could feel the velvet of his inside and I went deeper. Allways going back to his balls. I senced that he is very close. I went back and take his whole cock into my mouth just in time to get the first jolting of his cock and he start coming. I slurp his cum and swollowed. I thought he was finished but then he started all over again. It was the most cum I ever had to swollow. I waited untill he was finished. I rested with his cock in my mouth.

After a minute or so I moved up to where he was lying and I lay next to him. I kissed him and he kissed me back. He said it was amasing. I said this is only the beginning.

To be continued...

>>1106019

GTFO

It’s the summer, and you’ve been lucky enough to have a few weeks off from work. You’ve spent this time lounging around, and sleeping a lot. But lately, correspondence between your local friends has pretty much stopped. They don’t drop by. Your phone’s been quiet for a few days. And your IM lists show everyone as offline.

After five days of this, you’ve gotten bored enough to try a bunch of internet chat rooms. They’re all empty; even the big ones. Any e-mails you send get no replies.

When you leave your apartment, the whole building is silent.

Eerily silent.

The only noise you hear at all is the light breeze blowing through the trees nearby. Nobody answers when you knock on any doors. All the buildings are dark and locked up when you look out the window.

The only cars you see are parked. And quite dusty.

A search of the entire building, and even further beyond that, yields nothing. No life; the only movement is from the wind, or automated pieces of machinery. Frightened, confused, and alone, you slink back into the empty apartment complex.

On your door is pinned a note:

"Turns out the guy in room 302 really could sleep through the end of the world."

>>1106031
The note is dated five days ago.

You back away from your door into the adjacent wall; your heart rate is accelerating and your breathing is becoming difficult. Disbelief overcomes you. You begin to run.

You run through the double doors outside into the parking lot.

It’s evening. The sun is starting to disappear beyond the horizon, casting an orange and purple hue amongst the clouds.

You look all around you in utter horror. You cannot believe the words written on your door.
Something catches your attention, out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head.

There is movement in the parking lot.
A dark, twisted shape slowly crawls out from behind the parked cars... and suddenly you realize what happened to everyone.
There’s something behind you...

>>1106015
You're welcome.

Also, I finally found the old man pasta. On creepypasta.com, no less.
http://www.creepypasta.com/hide/#more-202

I can't believe I didn't have it saved, myself.

ORIGINAL CONTENT /x/!

Late last night, there was a pretty large thunderstorm in my area. Lightning, torrential sheets of rain, insane winds, the whole package.

I think it was around 2:00AM when the lightning flashes woke me up. Seems the power had been knocked out by the storm. My clock was off and my aquarium’s filters weren’t running. For some reason, I had forgotten to close the blinds in front of my window. My room’s window looks out into the front yard, and the dark street beyond. Since the power was out and, consequently, the streets light were also out, I couldn’t see anything outside other than what the intermittent flashes of lightning revealed.

Annoyed and groggy, I stood up, slipped on my house shoes, and walked towards the window, stumbling over dirty laundry in the process and almost falling flat on my face. Luckily, or, rather, not so luckily, I caught myself on the ledge of the window before I crashed into the floor. As I slowly stood up, cussing at myself for being so lazy, a bolt of lightning illuminated the scene outside. I looked up just in time to catch a horrifying glimpse of what waited just beyond my window.

Standing directly outside my window, maybe a foot away, was a ghastly, pale figure of roughly human proportions. It had no face... no defining facial features whatsoever. The only distinguishing features were two pitch black holes where a human’s eyes would have been. No type of darkness I had ever seen in my life could match the absolute nothingness contained in those holes...

>>1106039
Horrified, I flew backwards, right into my nightstand. I cringed with pain as I collapsed onto the floor, both of my calves burning from the impact with the edge of the table. I opened my eyes and shambled to my feet, glimpsing at the window. It was dark. So damned dark. I stood there, trembling in horror as I waited for the next flash of lightning to reveal the thing standing behind the glass. Minutes passed and I did not take my eyes off the window. I don’t believe I blinked once the entire time I was staring. It was unearthly quiet in my room; probably just my mind focusing on that damn window.

Flash. I stared. Nothing.

Whatever I had seen wasn’t there anymore. I was truly terrified at this point. Where had it gone? Was it just my sleepy mind playing tricks on me? No, I was completely awake now. And the image was fresh in my mind. Those eyes... those horrible pits of darkness.

>>1106042
I wanted nothing more than to turn on every available light in my room, but I knew it wouldn’t do me any good. The power was still out. And I didn’t have a flashlight. I’ve always been known for being unprepared, but how do you prepare for something like this?

Besides, my muscles weren’t responding. I was frozen in place, staring into the void beyond the glass. My mind was in overdrive, processing what had just happened, and what course of action I should take next. Perhaps 30 seconds had passed after the second flash, perhaps five minutes... I couldn’t tell. Time felt like it had stopped. All I remeber is that it didn’t take long before my trance of disbelief was broken by a loud noise.

A window pane somewhere in the house had shattered. I jumped at the sound, my heart pounding in my chest cavity, my breathing erratic and hurried. Oh God... was it inside the house? Was it a tree limb knocked loose by the storm? I was petrified with fear.

My door! I had left it unlocked. Panic overcame fear and I rushed toward the door. My peripheral vision was gone; I was in tunnel mode, with only the deadbolt in sight. I reached out just as I reached the door and drove the deadbolt home as hard as I could. I stood there for a moment, heart thrashing, staring at the lock, wondering if there was another way to fortify my door. I was half way through making the 180 degree turn around when another flash of lightning briefly lit my room. My bathroom is located immediately left of the door to my room, and contains the only mirror in my domicile.

>>1106046
I caught sight of an image in the mirror. Where my reflection should have been, was a ghastly pale figure with two black holes for eyes, staring right back at me. I screamed just as the light faded into darkness. I was on the verge of horrified tears as I quickly backed away towards my drawer, where I kept a small 9mm handgun for self defense. I threw the drawer open and shoved my hand into the jumble of clothing, searching blindly for the handgun in the near-abysmal dark.

The mirror shattered and shards of silver and glass came crashing into the tile floor of my bathroom. I was trembling beyond control. It felt like I was breathing some sort of liquid; my breathes came in uncontrolled gasps. My vision began to blur with fear. Finally, I grasped the cold polymer grip of my handgun and withdrew it. I know it’s not safe practice, but thank God I had left a loaded magazine in it. I furiously chambered a round, clicked the safety off, gripped the weapon with both hands and pointing it into the darkness of my room.

My hands were shaking so terribly it’s a wonder the gun didn’t fly out of my sweat-drenched hands. I stood there, waiting for something, anything, to materialize from the darkness. I was ready to pound 12 rounds into whatever was unfortunate enough to cross my line of sight.

>>1106049
I heard a soft *tap, tap, tap* on the window behind me.

Oh my God, I yelled aloud. I spun around just in time to observe another flash of light. The monstrosity was outside the window, only this time it’s unearthly face had a new feature... a grinning mouth with rows of razor sharp teeth. The window exploded into a hundred pieces as I let loose round after round after round of 9mm ammunition into the creature. Finally the gun clicked. Empty.

My ears were ringing insanely loud. The earsplitting report of the weapon had rendered my sense of sound useless. I was dazed and incoherent.

I searched the remains of the window for any sign of blood, any sign of the creature’s corpse. Nothing. I saw nothing. Only now the rain was pouring into the room, wetting my face and clothes. I was shivering with fear as much as I was from the frigid rain.

Something tapped me on the shoulder.

I was camping a few months ago, well not really camping but chilling with some friends late at night, doing a little drinking by a river.

Suddenly, something across the river caught my eye. I grabbed a flashlight and shined it over where I saw the movement and was barely able to catch a fleeting sight of something odd.

It was tall- the legs were long and spindly, almost as if on stilts. It had an odd roundish body and a short neck with a stumpy head. It was black and moved quickly and like a spider.

I posted about it on /x/ only to find out a few others (likely trolling) had seen it too. We drew it up, we named it "Dr. Captain Stiltybutt" and it was a good laugh. I called up the local Animal Control types. They hadn't had any reports of anything like it but said they'd keep an eye out and send a team to look for anything.

I was at the river again. I go there often. Sometimes I see it. Sometimes I don't.

But what is it?

I hope to find out. I'm bringing my gun.

>>1106052
Horrified, blood pumping with survival-instinct adrenaline, I dropped the empty pistol, yelled as loud as I could, balled my right hand into the hardest fist I could muster, turned around, and swung my fist into the darkness. Another flash. And there it was, it’s horrific face seemingly translucent in the darkness, maw gaping with rows of jagged fangs. My fist made contact with it’s left temple. The creature lurched backward, it’s body somehow contorting itself at a 90 degree angle while remaining upright. I couldn’t believe what my eyes were processing. Slowly, the damned thing began to right itself. I stood there in shock as it straightened itself out. My ears were still useless from the gun blasts, and yet somehow, I heard it. Laughing. Indescribable, horrifying laughing. The sound of nightmares, a sound that pierces the very fiber of your being.

I tried to cover my ears, tried to block out the sound of it’s cackling, it’s song of dread and death. And suddenly, without any warning, it appeared mere inches from my face, it’s pitch black "eyes" staring deep into mine, it’s "mouth" grinning from one side of it’s face to the other. The horror was indescribable, for in those eyes, I saw images so unspeakably evil I have yet to understand how I managed to keep my sanity. I swear upon my very life the creature was showing me images from what we call Hell. I couldn’t break it’s gaze. I screamed for what seems like an eternity.

>>1106061
And then something happened which I have yet to understand, and probably never will. It shut it’s eyes. Actually, it did not shut it’s eyes... they simply vanished. It’s mouth slowly began to close into nothing. What remained there, standing there in the rain-soaked void of my room, was a pale, sickening, completely featureless envoy from the darkest places humanity has ever conceived.

It vanished.

I awoke with a blood-curdling scream. My sheets were soaked with sweat, my pillow with tears. My eyes slowly focused on the room as I recovered my wits. My breathing began to ease. There was light coming through my window. It was morning. The clock displayed 8:13AM. My aquarium hummed along happily.

I sat up in bed and cried. I cried for at least 15 minutes, unable to shake of the feeling of my all-too-real dream. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact that it had just been a dream. When I finally stood up and walked around the room, everything was in order. My window was in one piece. Outside I saw a normal, rain-drenched neighborhood. My bathroom mirror was intact. I paced around the room, thinking to myself. So it was all a dream.

I was beginning to get hungry. I walked toward the door and turned the knob. The door wouldn’t budge. Confused, I tried again. Again, the door refused to open. Then I saw the deadbolt.

It was locked. I hadn’t locked it before I feel asleep.

>>1106065
I stepped back slowly... no, no, there’s no way. There’s no way I locked it. It was all a dream. Everything’s still in one piece! How...

I ran to the dresser, pulled the top drawer, and searched for the handgun. I pulled it out and checked the magazine. It was full, 12 rounds. I was just about to set it down and convince myself that I had indeed locked the door and had forgotten about it when I noticed something curious in the drawer. It was a 3"x5" picture, face down. I had never noticed it before. Slowly, I pulled it out and turned it over.

I dropped it. In the picture, I saw a field of tall grass, and in the distance, tall evergreens. But in the foreground... was a pale figure of roughly human proportions. The only distinguishing features were two pitch black holes where a human’s eyes would have been...

And it was holding a sign.

I didn’t read it.

>>1105996

we mean YOU'RE OURS NOW bitch!

good shit tonight

The Be Grateful ones were good. The classics, such as the one about the lady in the oven are meh.

The clock stared at me with its red eyes, shouting to me that he would arrive soon. He always comes at the witching hour. Of course I didn’t know that the witching hour was three in the morning till I told my friend about my night time wanderer. The witching hour is the time of night when God is at his weakest and all the imps and minions come out. This man was obviously not a three horned demon, nor was he an evil servant of the devil. He looked old, and lonely. I felt bad for him. He was probably homeless with no family or friends to speak of.

Every night he’s there, just sitting in our backyard. Every night I want to go outside and talk to him, but I can’t seem to work up the courage. He just sits on the tire swing, muttering to himself. He looks so lonely. Luckily I have no trees near my window, or anything that could block my view of him. My friend says it’s a trap to lure me outside. He says that a little kid like me isn’t thinking straight this late at night, so obviously; this prince of darkness wants an easy meal. He just wants me to come outside and, wham, I’m a nighttime snack.

>>1106052

>>1106121
Maybe he has a point though. Not about the evil part, but about the unsafe part. The old man might be crazy. I’m sure being homeless takes its toll on your body. I can’t see him that well from window either. I’ll sleep on it, maybe tomorrow night I’ll go and see if he’s harmless or not.

The bed looked so comfortable I couldn’t help but to flop down onto it. I lay there, waiting for the sand man to put his special dust in my eyes to carry me off to dream land. The wind was blowing really hard outside. I could here a tree branch tapping on my window. I bet the man was cold. I wonder if he is smart enough to find shelter. My eyes began to become extremely heavy, but the tree branch’s tapping kept drawing me out of my inner peace. I stared blankly into the cold darkness, when a sudden chill traced its way down my spine. I don’t have a tree anywhere near my window.

I continued to lie in my bed, and stare at window at the far end of room. I didn’t know what it could be. A werewolf? Dracula? Demon? All my childhood fears ran through my mind. There was a full moon out tonight. What did my friend say about the witching hour? When all the evils of the night came out? AND it was full moon? This is doubly bad.

The shadows of the room started to gather around my bed, ready to carry me to whatever terrible cave they called home. A thought occurred to me…Shadows. I looked to the window where the moon was shining its light from, my vision followed to where the light met the ground, and my heart sank. There on the ground was the dark outline of a man’s upper body. A new fear ran through me. One that wasn’t as ridiculous as creatures of the dark. The crazy man outside. Maybe he was the Prince of Darkness like my friend said. No, now I was acting like an eight year old, instead of the teenager that I was. My senses came back to me. He probably just wanted to get away from the wind, and saw me up in my window. So he climbed up the side of the house to the third story to tap on my window to get my attention.

>>1106135
alright just go to creepypasta.com and find it lol

its called Hide

im too lazy

>>1106019
lol fuck you it was a good story until you literally gay'ed it up.

.. and made me lol

but forsrsly guy who wrote that/girl who wrote that. Cool story.

>>1106065

Should've been the end. Next part was unnecessary and felt forced.

>>1104267

Sweet Jesus, this is the best creepypasta I've ever read. I've never been that creeped out after reading random shit on the internet. 10/10 bricks shat.

Now excuse me while I save this for later...

>>1104204
You wake up at 6:30 like every morning. You brush your teeth, take a shower, and get ready for the day. You ride your bike to your boring job in the office, and work your shift. You get off early today because today is the tenth anniversary of his death and you planned to have dinner with his family. Once again, you take the familiar route home. This time, everything has changed. You hear a child screaming “Wait up!” You turn around. No. It can’t be. He died ten years ago. You look down at yourself. Somehow, it is that fateful day again. The day he dies. He catches up with you and urges you to go down the alley, the one between the liquor store and bookstore. Now you remember what happened.

Then all of a sudden, there he is, that same man who murdered your best friend. You all of a sudden realize that this is your chance to save your friend. So you quickly shout, "DUDE GET AWAY FROM HIM HE'S GOT A KNIFE!"

The man throws the knife at you, but you dodge it. Then, a thought comes to your mind. If it IS my turn, then I'll die saving my friend! You ram your bike into the man, and you QUICKLY stomp on his head with all your weight. Then, you are shocked to see his face...it's you as an adult.

>>1106504
now that's what i call a better ending

http://www.creepypasta.com/hide/#more-202

this ^^

ending made me cry and rage at same time

>>1105704
That was some seriously creepypasta.

Oh my gosh. Got the chills so many times.

Some internet sites are reported to have haunted images on them. But would you actually believe one of those sites is from a devianTART member? Search for the member Vikki Fennec using the search button. If you find some of the art, you will see pictures of one common theme - a computerized arctic fox humanoid wearing swimming gear of various types. Click on her name and visit her page. Scroll down until you reach the image "Watching you..." Everything, even the description, will seem harmless. Most people either will laugh or just click out of it and lose interest. But it is far from typical. Stare into her eyes for one minute. After the minute passes, and if you do it right, everything but her eyes will appear dark. If she only growls, kill the power to your computer immediately and be very silent until you believe she is gone or someone can look behind you. If she doesn't growl, a voice will come from behind you and ask either "Why do you know me?" or "Where is my body?". Remain silent. Do not turn around. Do not take your eyes off of her eyes. She will then ask you three questions: your name, and two questions about your life. Answer every question correctly, for if you don't, she will change your vision so you believe you appear ugly or demented and will scream a scream that will not cease until you die.

If you answer each question correctly, she will tell you a secret about something that will happen later in the next year, as well as offer you advice on the consequences of that event, such as what to avoid or what to do when it happens. Do not speak or even say 'thank you'. Instead, with your eyes still focused on hers, press CTRL+Q the ENTER to quit your browser, because any other way involves you moving your gaze from her.

Do not visit that page again. Also, be sure to not blink so much - try to keep it about ten times or less. It's best to be safe.

>>1106066
>Something tapped me on the shoulder
While interesting end, I think you could've stopped here

>>1105704
Pure gold anon, pure gold.

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed.

The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to.

This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn't make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

At this point he decided to consult the woman at the front desk for more information. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and she said, "Well, I might as well tell you the story. A long time ago, a man murdered his wife in that room, and her ghost haunts it. But these people were not ordinary. They were white all over, except for their eyes, which were red."

I don't understand.. please post a conclusion

>>1106708

To which story?

>>1106603
someone tried?

>>1106603

http://vikki-fennec.deviantart.com/art/Watching-you-89189040

>>1106864

oh god waht

>>1106864
>>1106603
Are you brave my friends? Are you brave?

>>1106934

I've got nothing to lose, don't I? Might as well try; I'm at a campus till 5PM EST, so I'll have people around me...Then night will come and that'd be a different story.

>>1106977
DO IT

>>1106977
You are now watching furry shit while others can see what you're doing.

Congratulations, you're now known as a furfag.

For a school report, a teenage boy had decided to write about five recent murders that took place in a forest 2 hours from where he lived. The house was empty that night, as the boy’s parents were out to dinner. But every ten minutes or so, the family dog would enter the boy’s room and sit next to him for some company. Despite being sidetracked half the time by the dog, the boy was making good progress on his assignment, and was looking forward to finishing that night.

The five victims were all children. Only 16 years of age:

Jeremy Ozrich
Andrew Stelazzi
Martin-lee Elwich
Ernest Brent
Steven Lotoshi

When the dog came in, it always snuffed and licked its chops to alert the boy of its presence, where pats soon followed in return. With one hand occupying the dog, and the other using the mouse, the boy proof-read his work. But when he finished reading, the dog continued to stare at the screen, and left a few seconds after the boy went back to work. The boy thought nothing of it, and found the sight quite cute.

The case of the murders had been left open; stating that the condition of the victims left them almost unidentifiable by their own families, and three out of the five needed DNA comparisons to prove their identities. The horrific sight had been described as savage and brutal, because only small chunks of meat and bone had remained at the body locations, suggesting that animals had fed on the corpses prior to their discoveries.

An hour had passed. And after proof-reading the entire assignment alone, there was no sign of the dog. The boy had concluded that the dog must have fallen asleep in the lounge-room, and began printing the pages as he skimmed through his notes. Upon scanning the victim’s names in a list, he chuckled when he discovered the aligned names’ first letters spelt out JAMES, and turned to see the dog of the same name standing in his doorway, looking directly at him.

MMMMOOOOAAAAARRRRRRR

you know what psta i rarely ever see?, the one about a man going into an old cabin and seeing portraits everywhere, then on the next morning, he realizes those werent portraits, they were windows.

>>1107021

FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF

>>1107021
hahaha. that guy has shitty depth perception.

Then who was phone?

MOAMOAMROMAORMAOMROARMOAMROMROARMRO

Moar.

>>1104184
To be honest that was the best one I ever read.
I fucking SHAT myself when I read the last few words.

Dont let it die, /x/!
As a child, I was always quiet, and my conversations with others would always end up awkward. Because of that, I always preferred to be alone growing up. Which probably explains my strange obsession with toys, being as old as I am. They never talk. They just stare. I have to say though, being alone in an apartment full of figurines can be creepy sometimes.

However, being with my girl for almost two years, she understands my obsession well, but with this much, she would probably be shocked when she first sees them.

That night, she was more than excited to see my house. as we approached the door, she could barely contain her excitement, so without further delay, I swing the front door open. “Make yourself at home.” I say to her, “it’s kind of messy, but its more comfortable than it l-” her face was in shock, then absolute terror as she started to scream.

I tried to calm her, but it just got worse. I was puzzled. is she afraid of my toys? “I understand its a bit strange, but is it that horrifying? I take a quick look in my house but theres nothing horrific. I had to calm her down, as the neighbors were starting to come out. With a quick impulse, I quickly drag her in my house as I try to ease her mind. Her screaming just got louder and louder. At this point, I had no choice but to put my hand over her mouth. She watched me in terror with tears rolling down her face. I turn around and they were all staring at me as well.

…

I’m alone again. I placed her doll on the top shelf above all the others I have dated. Her look made me feel depressed, so I made it face the wall until I was able to get over it.

>>1106065
Anon, I fucking love you with all my might and power.


(Sadly, the other part of the pasta wasn't that bri/x/shitting. Could've been better without that. Still, epic, I salute you.)

>>1106864

That picture is freaking creepy in itself. Anyone try it yet?

Bmup

bamp

bamp

unsage