There's a dark forest deep in the heart of the Rockies, surrounded on all sides by mountains. In the center of the forest is a lake on the shores of which you will find a large black stone. If you swim out into the center of the lake, the stone will drag you down into the darkness.

You will emerge from shadows in the alley of a frightening dark city of heavily arched roofs and buildings built on stilts. You must not talk to a single citizen of this city, or you shall be trapped there forever. The citizenry is horrid and mutated, and they will leer and curse at you, and their hideous and deformed women shall offer you unknown and horrible lewdnesses.

At the edge of this city is a highway. Walk down the left side of the road (yes, against traffic) with your thumb out and a man in a dark truck shall pick you up and drive you back the way you came. The city will be gone, and he will take you to any place on Earth as long as you can name it and there's a road there.

penis

Oh yeah and I'm tripfagging so you know which ones are mine. FWIW the first two posts were.


David Lang's two children, George, 8, and Sarah, 11, were playing in the yard when Lang and his wife came out of the vine-covered brick house. He spoke to the children and then started walking out across the pasture. At this time, Judge August Peck, and Lang's brother-in-law came driving up the lane in a buggy. The judge saw Lang in the field and was about to call out to him when it happened.

Lang vanished from the face of the earth.

One minute he was standing in an open field with no trees, stones, or fences. The next, he was simply gone. Lang's wife and the two men immediately ran to the spot to check that he might have fallen through a hole in the ground. There was no such hole. Mrs. Lang went hysterical and was taken into the house. Neighbors were called out to help, scores of people searched the field, but to no avail. A surveyor and geologist examined the field and found limestone bedrock a few feet underground without a single fracture in it. For a month the search carried on. All the Lang servants quit in fear. A year later, the grass where Land was standing had grown high and thick in a circle 20' in diameter. No farm animal would graze there, and it seemed free of insects.

One day in August, 1881, Sarah and George approached the green circle and called out "Father, are you anywhere around?" They repeated the question 4 times. Hearing no answer, they began to walk away...when they heard a faint cry for help from out of nowhere. Quickly, the children ran to get their mother and pulled her outside. They called to their father again. And he answered. For several days, the family returned, and each day when they called, the answering voice became fainter, until finally there was no response at all.

There's a small, inconspicious building called "Padraic Willoughsby and Co." in the industrial district of Birmingham, UK. Most of the time, its doors are locked and the windows are draped. However, on February 29th of every leap year, there will be a small plastic container outside the front door containing business cards. On the front of the card it says in large capital letters, "PADRAIC WILLOUGHSBY AND CO. ENGLAND'S THAUMATURGICAL SPECIALISTS". On the back, in nearly inelligibly small type it says "The blood of the innocent."

Any night after midnight one can come to Paidraic Willoughsby and Co. and slide their card through the door, and the door will instantly unlock. Inside there is an empty room with white walls. No light reaches this room, except for a small sliver from the other end of the room. When you approach this room you will find that it is actually another door. When you knock on it, a voice will ask "What makes a man become exalted?" and you must respond with the phrase on the back of the card: "The blood of the innocent." The door will open and you will come into another room, a kind of lounge. Inside it you will find around 5-10 people, depending on the night, sitting around smoking and drinking brandy, all in late Edwardian period dress. There is absolutely no conversation at all in this room and, it is nearly silent except for the phonograph which plays the exact same record over and over, ad infinitum. If you attempt to speak to one of the patrons, they will promptly ignore you and pretend as if you were not there.

Towards the south wing of the room you will find a large, round table, slightly different from the others. On it will be a quill pen and a document. The document shows all of your personal information: name, birth date, place of residence, criminal record, greatest fears, etc. At the bottom of the document is a long line that asks for your signature. No one knows what happens after you sign it.

A degenerated VHS dub was discovered in the University Library containing five minutes of inexplicable amateur footage. In one continuous shot, the camera momentarily focuses on a doorway on the north wall of a living room before the operator climbs outside of the house through a window to show the exterior white clapboard. The camera then moves inside the house through a second window completely circling the doorway and so proving, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that insulation or siding is the only possible thing this doorway could lead to. A hand appears in the frame and pulls open the door, revealing a narrow black hallway at least ten feet long. The camera begins to move closer, threatening to actually enter it. A voice can be heard, "Don't you dare go in there again, Davy," to which another voice adds, "Yeah, not such a hot idea."


There are seven words in every Gideon's Bible - y'know, the one they stuff in every hotel room - that can't be found in any other bible. If you repeat those seven words to yourself while grasping the doorknob to your room, the door will open to any hotel room in the world. Of course, if you want to control where you're going, you'll need to know the Gideon's Key - one more inserted word, unique to each copy, which acts as an index for each room.

Leon Czolgosz, assassin of William McKinley, the the 25th President of the United States, was electrocuted for his crime on October 29, 1901, at Auburn Prison in Auburn, New York. Among the personal effects found in his cell was a U.S. quarter stamped with the date 2218. The face in profile on said quarter was not George Washington, but rather a face which has yet to be identified.

A young man and his new bride were honeymooning in Paris when his wife went into a restroom and didn't return.
With time the man began to fear the worst and went to the police, the police thought it was most likely the girl simply had second thoughts about the marriage, but they checked it out anyway and found no evidence of foul play
As weeks turned into months the man finally gave up on finding his beautiful wife but his life fell into a shambles he was so filled with grief.

Unable to hold a job or go on with his life, he took to wandering the world looking for anything that might ease his pain.
Years later in Borneo he came upon a freakshow in an old shabby building, he went in on a whim. In the last filthy cage he saw a twisted, scarred and mutilated woman rocking back and forth and groaning strange animal-like noises. He screamed as he recognized the birthmark on his wife's face.

An unpopular young med. student had been particularly annoying one day and some of her classmates decided to play a trick on her. They snuck into her room after she'd gone to bed and placed an amputated arm into bed with her. The next morning they anxiously awaited her reaction but got none. Eventually they went up to check on her and found her sitting on the bed, moaning and gurgling as she gnawed on the arm.

A teenage baby-sitter put the kids she was watching to sleep in their beds and went back downstairs. The late night news was on the TV -- the reporter said a psychopath from a local mental institution was on the loose and that police thought he might be in the area. He cautioned residents to lock their doors and windows because this guy was very, very dangerous. Well, the teenager checked the locks on the windows and the doors, but she forgot the door on the cellar bulkhead. Needless to say, the psychopath broke in about an hour later, coming up from the cellar, armed with an ax. The children heard some noises downstairs, but thought it was the baby-sitter moving some furniture around. Then it got real quiet. All they heard for the remainder of the night was this noise: "Thump! Thump! Dra-aag... Thump! Thump! Dra-aag..." Evidently, they were too afraid to get up to see what it was. In the morning, their parents came home and were horrified to find the babysitter at the top of the stairs, dead with both arms hacked off at the elbows. She'd been climbing the stairs on the bloody stumps of her arms, pulling her badly injured body along. Was she trying to check on the children? Was she trying to get help? Or in the madness of her tortured soul, was she planning to kill the children herself?

There exists a small circle of trees somewhere in the Rocky Mountains, completely unremarkable from the outside, but just inside no sun or star ever shines. Rumor has it that anyone that can spend three pitch black days and nights within the grove without going mad will be greeted with the queer sight of the sun rising in the west on the beginning of the forth day, filling the grove with radiant light. One wish may be made before this sun, and it shall be fulfilled. However, once that person makes the wish, the world outside the grove shall forever be as dark for them as it had been inside for those three days.

During a wedding reception of a young couple the guests decided on a drunken game of hide and seek. It was decided that the groom was "it" and he eventually found everyone but his new bride. Eventually the man became furious and decided it wasn't funny anymore and left her there. As weeks went by he accepted that she'd had second thoughts and went on with her life so he did the same. A few years later a cleaning lady dusted off an old trunk in the attic of the building where the reception had taken place, out of curiosity she opened it. Inside the trunk was the rotted body of the missing bride who'd apparently became locked in the trunk she'd hid in. Whether she'd suffocated or starved was unknown, but her face was frozen in a scream.

A Man on a motorcycle was passing an eighteen-wheeler carrying sheet metal when one of the sheets shifted and neatly cut off the driver's head. His headless body continued on it's path by the semi. The driver saw the headless cyclist and immediately had a heart-attack, and his truck swerved into a bus-stop full of people.

There's a movie theater in downtown Phoenix, Arizona that only plays movies from 1987. If you pay for 3 tickets and buy a large popcorn, they will play a film that shows you your future. If you watch the entire film completely, you will have sleeping problems for the rest of your life.

A person is dared to spend the night in a crypt in a local cemetery and is found in the morning totally insane and their hair has turned snow white. This one can vary from biker club initiation, fraternity or sorority initiation or a dare between a group of kids. It takes place usually in an gated above ground crypt. The person is locked in with the dead and left over night. No one knows what actually happens to said person because they never speak again, their hair turns snow white and they go insane.

An unusual amount of deaths have occurred around the three "Poltergeist" films, including three of the stars. These incidences have given way to rumors that the films were cursed because of their content. This seems a little silly; there are always explanations to "curses" like this. Or are there??

Two of the stars from the first film have died at young ages, two from the second film at not so young ages.

22-year old Dominique Dunne, who played older daughter Dana Freeling, died on November 4th,1982, at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center in Los Angeles, California. She had been chocked into a coma by her boyfriend.

12-year-old Heather O'Rourke died of septic shock on February 1st., 1988, at the Children's Hospital in San Diego, California.What was thought to be the flu turned out to be a bowel obstruction which caused toxins to enter her system. She died at Children's Hospital while undergoing surgery to remove the obstruction.

60-year-old Julian Beck, who played the evil preacher Kane in the second film, died of stomach cancer on September 14th,1985, at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York, NY. Like Heather O'Rourke, he died during the period between filming and release, but in his case the film in question was Poltergeist II, which was released in May 1986. O'Rourke died before the release of Poltergiest III.

53-year-old Will Sampson, who played Taylor in the second film, died on June 3rd., 1987, in a Houston, Texas hospital after receiving a heart-lung transplant 6 weeks earlier. The cause of his death was attributed to severe pre-operative malnutrition and post-operative kidney failure along with a fungal infection.

Once, there were two girls named Mary and Karen having a sleepover. It was being held at Karen's house because her parents were out of town. In fact, every time Karen's parents went out of town, they had a sleepover because Karen was afraid to stay by herself. It was Halloween and once again, Karen's parents were out of town. When Mary rang the doorbell, Karen answered wearing a beautiful silk nightgown. It was blood-red and had a furry collar. Mary envied Karen for having that nightgown.

They began to watch some scary movies. All of the sudden, Mary heard a soft "thump, thump, thump, thump." She was frightened and looked at Karen, who didn't seem to notice. As the night progressed, Mary heard the thumping noise intermittently and it seemed to be growing nearer. When the noise sounded from right behind them, the electricity and lights went out. Mary and Karen ran screaming, up to the second floor, into Karen's room. It was now midnight and the two girls were scared to death.

Suddenly, Karen got up and ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her. Mary sat there for what seemed like an eternity. After a long silence, she heard the thumping noise again. It seemed to be coming up the stairs, getting louder and louder. Thump, Thump THUMP, THUMP, THUMP! Then, it stopped. Mary thought she heard someone standing on the other side of the door and bravely got up and opened it.

Mary couldn't see a thing, so she reached out her arm and felt Karen's soft silk nightgown. Then, she reached up to feel her favorite part of the nightgown, the furry collar. When she reached higher, there was nothing but a bloody stump!! When the lights came on, she discovered that her poor friend had been decapitated! The neighbors heard her screaming at the top of her lungs and called the police. When the police arrived, they found Karen's dead body, and Mary, with snow-white hair, completely insane.

A teenage girl, popular, rich, and happy, was walking through a store with her mom and saw a beautiful porcelain doll, which would look great with her collection. She demanded that her mother buy it for her. He mother agreed, and got it for her.
As soon as the girl returned home, she unpacked the doll and set it on a stand above her bed. She then left her room and went out with her friends. When she got home, it was late and she was tired. She went to her room, put on her pajama's and tucked herself into bed.

When she woke up the next morning, she saw a note attached to her lamp beside her bed. It was from her mother, telling her they'd be out of town until next Sunday. She yawned and noticed that her cheek was sore, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She got dressed and went to school.

This went on for a few days until she woke up and her cheek was extremely sore. She decided she'd check it out in a minute or two, then went about her room, picking out what she would wear. She finally decided and walked over to her full body mirror and noticed a large, ugly lump on her cheek.
Figuring it was a pimple, she squeezed it... and felt something moving. All of the sudden, spiders began pulling themselves out of the lump. She screamed, but since there was no one home in her huge house, nobody heard her. She tore at the spiders but there were millions... and she died of the poison in their bites.

Apparently... there was a nest of spiders in the porcelain doll she'd gotten.

There was once a young boy and his sister. One day their parents went out to run some late errands they had put off until the last minute. Before they left they told their children not to open the door under any circumstances.

Because they were watching TV, they didn't pay much attention. About an hour after they left, there heard a knock, knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. The children who were now in their rooms asleep, were awoken at once.

Knock, knock, knock. Knock, knock, knock. Finally the sister got up wondering who it could be. her brother lay awake in his bed listening. When he heard nothing for a few minutes and his sister did not return, he got a little scared.

He decided to go to his neighbors house, who were very close friends of his. He got out of bed and headed for the front door in the dark. When he got to his neighbors house, he found them awake.

They told him they were relieved he was there, because they had just heard on the news that a murderer had been spotted just a few blocks away not too long ago. In the morning, they discovered the sisters body, and a discarded knife on the brothers bed.

In rural southern Illinois a toy company began selling "realistic" baby dolls to expectant mothers. But apparently after the mother had her child the toy baby would start crying. Eventually the "rocking motion" advertised to calm it down wouldn't work, and you couldn't get it to stop without shaking it. Eventually when it started crying the parent would have to beat it, and the beatings and thrashings would have to get harder and harder to get it to be quiet. The only thing that seemed to shut the baby doll up permanently was the bash its head against the wall to destroy whatever mechanism triggered the crying. On more than one occasion though, neighbors called the authorities to report child abuse, and when the police arrived they found the the bloody remains of infants smeared across the walls and the floor. In most cases the mother couldn't understand why the police were there, she just "got rid of the stupid doll" as she rocked a baby-shaped bundle in her arms.

Goatman, a creature you should avoid at all costs. He is one of the USA's most horrific monsters: half man, half goat. He appears on quiet roads, often in the state Maryland, with a shiny axe that he uses for chopping up teenagers.

The police have always had problems catching the Goatman because his strong legs and endless stamina always allow him to get away. No one knows exactly where he came from. Legend has it that he is the result of a top-secret experiment, approved by Washington, D.C. and conducted by the local authorities. Something went tragically wrong.

According to rumors, a scientist was conducting experiments on animals to improve human's physical abilities. Unfortunately, an experiment with a goat went horribly wrong. A power failure took place and a strange mix occurred. When the smoke settled, the scientist had become a monster, some part man, some part goat. Insane with disappointment and fear of what would happen to him, he ran screaming out into the night. The Goatman was loose...

Because of his horrific look, the Goatman developed a special hatred for young, pretty teenagers and his life is now dedicated to killing them. Some of his victims survive because they are in cars when the attacks occur. It appears the monster likes to jump up on the cars and scare the heck out of them. When particularly blood thirsty, he chops the tires so they can't get away. The evil creature then drags them with him, deep into the forest, where he consumes them with great pleasure.

Maybe he is just a story to scare away young couples from places where
they can be alone and make out. Or, maybe not. My advice: if you have to stop, lock your car doors, and look around for anything strange. Do not stop the car in the middle of the woods under any circumstances.

Legend has it that if you come face to face with your doppelganger, it's an omen or warning of death -- for both you and your twin. Because of this, if you see a replica of yourself, run for your life. If you keep seeing your doppelganger, chances are that your days are numbered, because you'll soon see your demise.

There are many stories regarding encounters with doppelgangers, none of them pleasant. Often, a person does not actually see their own doppelganger, but someone else does. Can you be two places at once? No, but it's a very strange feeling when someone who knows you very well insists that they saw you just thirty minutes ago -- and you were nowhere in the vicinity. Imagine this happening time and time again and you'll soon go insane.

Hence, the myth that a doppelganger will precede the arrival of the real person. Many stories explaining their experiences with these apparitions have this in common. Perhaps he's one step ahead of you?

Alex sent in a compelling story last year, just before Halloween. He describes some unsettling incidences, but had no idea what the cause was. The story was edited for only grammar and was published with the title of The Cemetery Mimic. Lauryl writes in a few weeks later, stating that she believes this story depicts repeated encounters with a doppelganger.

So are there really doppelgangers or is it just a creepy urban legend? You're not likely to believe it if you've never had an experience with one. Whether Alex really has one is just speculation and how the story is interpreted. The story rings true, but Alex is probably not in any danger as there's no solid proof of doppelgangers or of someone meeting their demise after seeing their own. Regardless, the legend lives on.

>>440801
>>Goatman, a creature you should avoid at all costs. He is one of the USA's most horrific monsters: half man, half goat
, half bear, half pig.

Be back in 45

>>440804

Hows this for a doppleganger story. I swear this is true.

One of my best friends went to Panama a few years ago with his family on a vacation or something. He told me that his younger brother and his dad were walking and saw me. His brother said " Hi ______" and the lookalike said back to him "Hi David" (his name).

Their dad validated this story, and it was really weird for me, because I have definitely never been to Panama.

Requesting goatman zoofilia pic

SOME of s have teh manners.

Thanks for the effort, Librarian.

'Preciate it.

>>440806
Bear....pig.....bea....ig....be....ig....b....ig.....big....big....

BIG!
It's BIG!!

/r/ the one about the absinthe and the paintings

OK I'm back. Sorry about the wait.

>>440827
Yeah, there was a poster a month or two back who said that he saw his own doppelganger get hit by a car, and he got up close enough to see his own self dead and battered, and he watched the medics take the body away. That would be interesting to see.

>>440909

Don't think I have that one, maybe it'll pop up later. I haven't read all of these.

OK, back to creepypasta....

If you watch every State of the Union Adress since it's been filmed and available on tape, you'll see that halfway through--exactly halfway through--the President always says the same word. Most say it under their breath during the standing ovations, but some are forced to work it into the speech itself.

What's the word? You don't want to know.

[anonymous says that it’s Peony, an OTO codeword used to denote a request for aid in ventures into the 8th dimension. There's a flower for all eleven dimensions.]

do you have the how to kill series? I've been looking for them for a while. Would be much appreciated.

A laundress, newly moved to Charleston following the Civil War, found herself awakened at the stroke of twelve each night by the rumble of heavy wheels passing in the street. But she lived on a dead end street, and had no explanation for the noise. Her husband would not allow her to look out the window when she heard the sounds, telling her to leave well enough alone. Finally, she asked the woman who washed at the tub next to hers. The woman said: "What you are hearing is the Army of the Dead. They are Confederate soldiers who died in hospital without knowing that the war was over. Each night, they rise from their graves and go to reinforce Lee in Virginia to strengthen the weakened Southern forces."

The next night, the laundress slipped out of bed to watch the Army of the Dead pass. She stood spell-bound by the window as a Gray fog rolled passed. Within the fog, she could see the shapes of horses, and could hear gruff human voices and the rumble of canons being dragged through the street, followed by the sound of marching feet. Foot soldiers, horsemen, ambulances, wagons and canons passed before her eyes, all shrouded in Gray. After what seemed like hours, she heard a far off bugle blast, and then silence.

When the laundress came out of her daze, she found one of her arms was paralyzed. She has never done a full days washing since.

>>440921

Is this what you are looking for? It's an rar.

Somewhere in the Pacific ocean is an island, surrounded by a swamp filled with the carcasses of fish and other, less recognizable things poking out of the mud. The mire extends as far as you can see. Every so often, the mud will dry enough under that you can walk on it; about a days travel from shore is a large mound, at the top of which is an immense canyon, the bottom of which cannot be seen, although if the moon is large enough you will be able to see the slope of the canyon, and eventually the bottom, which is covered by a strange body of water. Rising from the water is a monolith, which is covered in bas-reliefs.

A few college girls are having a slumber party and go to rent a video at a local dealer. The girls cannot agree on a film, so one of them asks for help. The clerk states that she has just the thing and disappears into the back room.

Meanwhile, one girl sees a box-less tape laying on the counter and reaches toward it. Just then, the clerk comes out from the back and tells her not to touch it and hands her an older film. The girl asks about the first tape, and the woman tells her that it is just a home movie. The girls agree to rent the tape that the woman suggests. While they are checking out, the girl who asked for help swipes the "home movie" tape.

Back at their house, the girl tells the others about the tape she swiped and they laugh, telling her that she is dumb for stealing some woman's home movies. Still, they ask her to play the tape. She puts the tape in and then the power goes out -- but the television stays on.

The video starts playing and shows a black woman being burned for practicing witchcraft and hoodoo. She utters a curse that all who witnesses her death will face the same fate in two-day time. The VCR begins to make skipping sounds and then cuts off. As promised, the girls died exactly forty-eight hours after watching the tape. They all met their demise at the end of the 48th hour exactly where they stood: one drowned in the pool, another broke her neck when she fell in the ice rink, and still another quickly passed on sitting in the passenger seat of a car, as her mother drove her to their family reunion.

>>440926
this isn't creepypasta. It's Dagon by H.P. Lovecraft.

/r/ fresh pasta.

In 1971, a few weeks before a scheduled moon shot, an alternate astronaut was seen behaving in an erratic fashion at lunch. He arose from the table, headed over to where a group of high-ranking Air Force officers and NASA officials were eating, proceeded to lay down upon it, squeeze a thin red line of ketchup across his throat. He convulsed and wheezed to one of the officers, grabbing him by the lapels, "Don't.... order...the... swordfish."

He was remanded to psychiatric care in the Pacific Northwest in a somewhat less-than-therapeutic castle moved there formerly by a robber-baron at the turn of the century. During the astronaut's stay, a new commandant came, a Marine Colonel. This colonel was found dead not long after his arrival with a single self-inflicted slash across his throat.

>>440924

I don't think so. Some guy on here said how to kill a whole bunch of different monsters/creatures/ghosts, etc. He said how to do it, because he had done it most of them in personal experiences, he does one on vampires, kraken, doppleganger, etc. It was awesome.

In winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a German medic had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment suddenly became a bloodbath. The survivors claimed to hear, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

The medic made his rounds during the fire, in almost complete darkness as he had so many times before, but never this short on supplies.

The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, most men dropped off to sleep in the still dark 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, with 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, tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal all skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body 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.

>>440939

Ah sorry. I'm not aware of that, but it sounds interesting. Promise that you'll post an rar on /x/ when you find it, alright?

>>440932
That was the ring with a nigger.

If you travel to the furthest glaciers in the south, it is said you can walk into the canyons of ice there. If you find the junction of two canyons that form a perfect square, you can lie down in the middle there and feel no cold. If you listen, the ice will speak and what it says will make poor men rich, and sane men mad.

At the edge of the Pacific ocean, on some abandoned beach in the tropics, there is a large, smooth rock that sits just beyond the reach of the highest tides. It is not cracked or marked in any way, and the smooth black stone reflects even the faintest of light. It's curved and formed in just such a way that if you are very careful, you can climb on top of it from the side, and stand on a flat area at the top.

If you stand on the rock when the moon is full and shining, and the water is at its highest point, you can see something in the sea below you. A faint shimmer of light, a flash of something you can't quite identify. It gets brighter, easier to see as you kneel down and lean closer, over the edge of the rock.

Once you are leaning out further than would probably be safe, your left leg will slip on the slippery stone, and you will fall forward into the light. There is no splash, no sound; you simply disappear into the ocean.

No one knows what happens after you disappear. But there are some who claim to have fallen off the same rock, what seems like a lifetime ago. According to the earthly calendar, they were gone for one day, then washed up on another beach, sometimes half a world away. But their eyes are hardened, and they rarely speak anymore, only occasionally muttering of fiery paths and gibbering demons.

The lottery gives you a three digit number and a four digit number each day, right? What else has seven digits split into three, then four? That's right, it's a phone number. The lottery is a telephone oracle. Whoever is on the end of the line when you call that number knows something that you need to know, though sometimes getting the prophecy out of them can be difficult. It helps if you have a winning ticket, I believe.

For a brief period in 1971, a New Jersey based company sold novelty "x-ray" glasses through the mail via advertisements in the Marvel line of comic books. People who viewed their televisions while wearing these glasses reported seeing images that were "hellish" or "like hell". It should be noted that this phenomena occured whether the televisions in question were turned on or not. The company quickly went out of business and investigations reveal that the company's address leads to a graveyard founded many decades before 1971.

If you kill a person at midwinter, and then bathe in its blood two days later you will live as long as the other person would have lived if you hadn't killed him. This only works for people of your own gender, though. Bathing in the blood of another gender will kill you, and bring the person you killed back to life for as long as you would have lived.

The assassination of John F. Kennedy started a macabre chain that continues to this day. Oswald killed Kennedy, Jack Ruby killed Oswald, this much we know. What few people are aware of is how far it continued after that.

In 1967 while awaiting retrial for the murder of Lee Harvey Oswald, Ruby died in Parkland Hospital (the place of death of both Oswald and JFK), some say due to the negligence of the doctor overseeing him. A few years following this, that same doctor died in an auto accident while on his way home. The driver of the car that struck him would make a full recovery, though the medical costs would bankrupt him and drive him to a life of crime. A store owner acting in self defense would be the one to claim his life, and so on.

Few have kept full track of the chain up 'til now, or how far from Dallas it's traveled, but many believe it still continues. Fewer still are sure if it started with Oswald and JFK, or if perhaps it goes further back than that... betraying some unknown transgression from President Kennedy's past.

Just be careful out there.

During the Blizard of 1978 in Vermont, I was driving a truck bringing food to people snowed in. I arrived at an intersection that had apparently been completely plowed under with a mound of snow even my 4x4 couldn't pass. I turned my attention to the bare field on either side of the road and decided to just cut through when my eyes became fixed on the glint of a convertible in the middle of the snow covered field with a man in short sleeves sitting behind the wheel. A queer sight to behold in -10 degree temperature and knee-high snow.

Concerned, I got out of the 4x4 and hurried over to him. Strangely enough, my eyes never strayed from focusing on the car and the man inside. By the time I was about 20 feet from the car, I started sweating and sweltering in my heavy snowsuit. Stopping for breath, I realized that I was no longer in the snow-covered clearing, rather on a loosely sandy isthmus connecting two islands reminiscent of somewhere in the South Pacific.

I approached the convertible to find the man reading a map of a place I didn't recognize. The man turned and looked at me, his expression somewhat stunned that I was standing in this tropical setting wearing a cold-weather snowsuit.

"Goin' my way?" He asked.

I hadn't taken my eyes off of his car the entire time. I was only aware of the odd surroundings from the periphery of my vision. I began to back slowly away, then suddenly terror broke over me, I whirled to run.

The second I broke concentration on the convertible, I saw the snow covered field again, and the 4x4 behind me, slowly accumulating a layer of snow on the roof. I looked back around for the convertible but found no signs or tracks of it or the man in it. I got back into the 4x4 as though nothing had happened.

About a week later, I saw a report that said under a snowdrift, in the same field, a man was found in a convertible, frozen to death. The top was jammed down and he evidently hadn't dressed for the blizzard.

A mason, Benjamin Franklin's links to occult secret societies have long been known. In the clip below, the History Channel talks about his involvement in the Hellfire Club, a secret society that conducted black masses and orgies. These bizarre, occult practices are still going on today in secret societies like the Bohemian club.

In 1998, workmen restoring Franklin's London home dug up the remains of six children and four adults hidden below the home. The London Times reported on February 11, 1998:

"Initial estimates are that the bones are about 200 years old and were buried at the time Franklin was living in the house, which was his home from 1757 to 1762, and from 1764 to 1775. Most of the bones show signs of having been dissected, sawn or cut. One skull has been drilled with several holes. Paul Knapman, the Westminster Coroner, said yesterday: "I cannot totally discount the possibility of a crime. There is still a possibility that I may have to hold an inquest."

My grandfather served in the European Theater of Operations during WWII, an experience he rarely talks much about. I've only managed to coax one story out of him.

He and a low-ranking officer (granddad was an enlisted man) were travelling by jeep somewhere in Belgium with a cache of much-needed ammunition. Taking a wrong turn on an unpaved road they first became lost, then began to run low on fuel. They sought to ask some locals for help, as the Belgians were highly sympathetic to the Allied effort.

They spied a small hamlet, made up of fewer than a dozen thatched huts, and began walking towards it. They were met halfway by a group of three men dressed mostly in animal skins, all of whom spoke angrily in a language neither of them understood (not French, not German, and certainly not English).

Negotiations proved futile, and one of the three drew a small rusty knife. The Lieutenant drew his .45 sidearm in return and killed the man when he rushed at them as if to attack. This act scared the other two off.

Eventually they repaired the jeep themselves and found their way back to base by the next day. A report was filed, but not much made of it. The following winter the Lieutenant was killed in an artillery barrage, making my grandfather the only known living witness to the event.

Now what's interesting is what reminded him of the story: we were watching a documentary on the development of language, this one specifically about the Saxon tongue, which thousands of years ago developed into languages like German and English. Granddad remarked how much it sounded like the words he'd heard that day.

>>440946

Will do :)

>>440761

From House of Leaves, slightly edited. Name should be "Navy," not "Davy."

any chance you can upload these to rapidshare OP? They are awesome

They say that the olfactory senses (the sense of smell) is the sense closest linked to memory.

Go on ebay, or to a high-end antiques dealer. Find an item made a good amount of time before you were born that was hermetically sealed, vacuum packed or tightly packaged in some way.

Make sure you are in surroundings of completely neutral smell with little or no wind. Open the package.

The smell should hearken back to your collective subconscious or memory of a past life. If you are successful in choosing the right item, with the right smell, you will have at least a memory flash, or likely a memory flood of years before you were born.

This is step one.
The next time you make a purchase, hand the clerk a $1 bill and ask her to make change. She will hand you back a number of coins, several of which bear the likenesses of long dead historical figures.

>>440988

I'll need to rar them and put them in an image. About 65% of these came from another rar'd image, but I deleted the image itself after extracting the document. I'll post the image with an rar at then end, don't worry.

A lot of these stories are in here.
<-- .rar

Rumor has it that every halloween during the hours of 2am and 5am, there exists a void. You must stand in front of a mirror in a pitch black room with your gaze fixated on the mirror. If you remain in the room when the moment arrives, you will feel a chill seize your body. Place your right hand on the mirror and whisper "I accept." If done correctly, in the mirror there will be a faint image of a fleshless infant with pitch black eyes. He will stare directly into your soul and you will hear the buzzing of flies and nervous whispering. You will not be able to make out the image in the mirror but you will be filled with unspeakable terror. The infant will ask you five questions about events that have occurred within your life. His voice will sound like the rubbing of sandpaper and will be devoid of all emotion. For each question that you answer incorrectly, one of your five senses will be consumed. For each question that is answered correctly, you will be able to recite the name of someone you know. That person will be found dead the next morning, after a night of unimagninable horror, with their flesh removed and their eyes missing.

>>440993

call me a new fag but i dont seee .rar anywhere?

>>440993

Yeah that's the original. But unless you've updated it that's five months old and missing some goodies, which is why I must upload a better version.

>>440995

Save the image and unrar it like you would any old rar using winrar or 7zip or something.

On the east bank of the Susquehana river somewhere in central Pennsylvania, there is a small patch of ground where no plants will grow. At the right time of day, at the right time of year, the sun shines directly on this spot. If you stand there at precisely this time, a whirlpool in the river will appear, revealing a trap door leading to a system of identical tunnels. If you can successfully navigate through the maze of tunnels, you will find yourself face down in an alley behind an Irish pub called Kelley's just outside Boston, with no memory of how you got there. In your pocket, you will find a day planner. Important events of the future are described within, but in random order and no dates.

There is a small island in the Mediterranean Sea that does not appear on any map. It cannot be seen from any other island, nor can any other land be seen from it. On this island is a lighthouse, rotting from age and sea water, which is never lit. There is nothing inside it, save for a spiraling staircase that leads to the top, and an ancient, dusty bookcase.

The case is filled with unmarked books, bound in ancient leather, save for a single space. If you remove a book from the shelf, it will fling itself open in your hands, and the words inscribed in it shall start screaming to the air. You must wrestle the book closed and shove it back on the shelf, or the immortal evil contained within its pages shall break free, and you will be forced to take its place, with pages, ink and binding crafted from your own flesh and blood.

However, if you bring the correct book to the island, and place it in the empty space, the lighthouse will light. As long as it is lit, the world shall enjoy an unending paradise, for all the evil in the world will be contained in the lighthouse. And while it is lit, nothing can go in or out.

The only problem; you will be trapped for eternity with all the evil ever known or conceived, by man or god. And the only way to escape, is to douse the light.

Please forgive my bad English, mes amis, but I have a story you may find interesting.
Recently, while I was watching people around the world-famous Notre Dame de Paris cathedral, I noticed an old beggar woman who had a cart full of flashy, coloured items. Rubber ducks, fake flowers, little cubes from an alphabet game... All coloured, all different.
Went here the day after, and I noticed there were less green items, and many, more orange objects in the cart. I also happened to notice a news on the radio, telling that the European currency was really high, while the dollar went down...
Next day, I counted the items.
Just for fun, entered the numbers in my computer, made an Excel file of it, and went on and on, every day for nearly one month.
At the end of the month, I had a picture, a perfect graphic showing me how the yellow, the red, the green, the orange and the blue went up and down. I made the same graphic with a dozen of worldwide currencies. I discovered dollar was the green, euro the orange, deutschmark the yellow, and so on. Every day, Old Lady of the Money Cart shows you what happens on the world.
Now, I wonder about two most disturbing questions...
I never managed to discover any currency matching the white items...
And second: what would happen if someone were to take objects from the cart... or put some items inside ?
Well, mes amis, sorry for my bad English, once again, but, thing about it and keep your eyes open when you get to Paris and around Notre Dame...

A bientot, mes amis...

Le marchand de jouets

You're walking down your street, it's a gray, cloudy, unseasonably cold day.

As the brown leaves swirl about you, you hear, faintly yet distinctly, a baby crying. As you move toward the noise, it becomes the sound of a young girl sobbing. Closer you approach the sound, and as the wind picks up, it is clearly the sound of a young woman screaming. You race toward the corner, and as you near it, the sound becomes that of an old crone choking. Then silence as you turn the corner, revealing nothingg but a puddle of water on the sidewalk. As you look into the puddle, it seems your reflection is delayed by a few seconds...as if it is watching you and then mimicking you...

>>440775
"The Ballad of the Mistletoe Bride"

THE MISTLETOE hung in the castle hall,
The holly branch shone on the old oak wall;
And the baron's retainers were blithe and gay,
And keeping their Christmas holiday.
The baron beheld with a father's pride
His beautiful child, young Lovell's bride;
While she with her bright eyes seemed to be
The star of the goodly company.

'I'm weary of dancing now," she cried;
"Here, tarry a moment-I'll hide, I'll hide!
And, Lovell, be sure thou'rt first to trace
The clew to my secret lurking place."
Away she ran-and her friends began
Each tower to search, and each nook to scan;
And young Lovell cried, "O, where dost thou hide?
I'm lonesome without thee, my own dear bride."

>>441009

that was really good

>>441011
con't

They sought her that night, and they sought her next day,
And they sought her in vain while a week passed away;
In the highest, the lowest, the loneliest spot,
Young Lovell sought wildly-but found her not.
And years flew by, and their grief at last
Was told as a sorrowful tale long past;
And when Lovell appeared the children cried,
"See! the old man weeps for his fairy bride."

At length an oak chest, that had long lain hid,
Was found in the castle-they raised the lid,
And a skeleton form lay moldering there
In the bridal wreath of that lady fair!
0, sad was her fate!-in sportive jest
She hid from her lord in the old oak chest.
It closed with a spring!-and, dreadful doom,
The bride lay clasped in her living tomb!

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...

>>441011
>>441014

I think this is the original of>>440775

I've seen at least four different versions of this story, but it always scared me of opening old trunks. That, and last year a woman (in New Jersey, if memory serves) opened up an old trunk she received in a will from a dead aunt only to find the mummified corpse of a baby.

A 15-year old boy in a small town in Maryland sat down at his computer after getting home from school one day. He turned it on and logged into an instant messaging program, and was then surprised to receive a message from a classmate of his, who had been absent that day.

It consisted of two words; "please come". Confused, the boy sent a reply, asking why he'd been absent that day. After two more messages and fifteen minutes with no response, he decided to get on his bike and head over to his classmate's house. It was a short ride, only about five minutes away.

When he got to the house, he found the door was unlocked. Inside, partially dried blood was splattered over the walls and floors, and an unrecognizable figure was crumpled against the far wall. It was missing an arm and a leg, and bloody streaks on the floor lead away from the body and into the kitchen. The boy slammed the door closed, and immediately called 911 on his cell phone.

When the police arrived, they found three corpses, as well as tracks leading away from the house from the back door. The forensics report concluded that the entire family, the boy's classmate and his parents, had been killed sometime the previous night.

>>441021

Predictable ending is predictable.

There's a tent in a travelling circus in the India. Inside this tent there's a man who is an expert in poker, you can recognize him because he always bets exactly 2 U.S. dollars and 31 cents. If you beat him after 3 rounds, he will bet his soul on the 4th round. Nobody has ever beaten this man on the 4th round, and if you lose well... You don't want to know.

>>440776
HAHA OH WOW
That was hilarious, not scary.

Somewhere in Ohio, there's a soda-vending machine that instead of selling root-beer, inside the can you'll find the cool, carbonated blood of people who go missing on roads in the middle of the night. It does not take paper money, despite having the apparatus necessary.

There's an abandoned convenience store somewhere in Connecticut. On the basement of this building, you'll find the body of none other than the real George W. Bush preserved in a tank. It's rumored that the current president used to be a laboratory chimpanzee that was subject to many horrible experiments and studies of the evolution of mankind.

For people who have visited Ireland in their life, they may have come to the small fishermen's town of Baltimore (Yes, there's an American city with the same name.). However, there's an old abandoned dockyard there - completely closed off. But if you're going a bit close to the fence, you see a real finished built ship standing around in there - only that it's rusty as shit. You have a better look on it when you try to approach the dockyard from seaside.
The first thought which struck my mind was - who built that ship (and who closed the deal to build is) and how come no one’s moved it out the shipyard???

If you visit France's Cote d'Azur in your lifetime, stay the fuck out of the town called "Blanche". I was there once with my parents, around 8 years ago (I was 12 at that time; we were on a short trip).

Immediately after you enter that town, you notice that the colors of the houses are darker than everything you have seen in your entire life - it's not like they are black or grey, they are normal colors for walls - they just look not right.

After that, you notice the fishy stench - like a friday market... only that you can't see any fish getting sold. The people in the town do have indeed a really weird skin tone, it's really near blue- if I recall correctly, my father said something like "These guys sure look like the sea." We planned to stay in the town for a while, but my mother and my sister were too scared, they insisted of driving on to find a different town. The next town was alright, however the folks of the second town sure told us some very freaky stories about Blanche - we were all glad that we didn't stay there...

>>440784
THEN HOW THE HELL DO PEOPLE JOIN THE BIKER CLUB/FRATERNITY/SORORITY?

SERIOUSLY?

What the fuck?

>>441030
I thought the same thing???

My cousin once told me this story - alright, she went to London together with her class (we're from Germany, so it's not too far), and after they arrived, went to their hotel and unpacked their stuffed my sister and two friends of her decided to check out the area of their hotel.

They walked around the quarter and checked out the houses, until one of the girls had to pee, so they went into a Chinese restaurant to ask for a toilet. The waitress let them use the toilet; however, it was on the second floor. The other girls joined the girl to find the toilet (you know how girls are), and so they walked upstairs together.

The toilet was supposed to be the third door on the left - but as soon as they started to walk in the right direction, they saw that the first door was open - as they looked inside, they saw this really old half-naked Chinese man sitting inside on a bed.

He was talking to himself while he was holding up a dead, dried black cat. The girls couldn't move. He didn't notice them, thus continuing with his routine - he got louder and louder in his ramblings. Until he stood up, let out a real high pitched scream and smashed the cat's body against the wall as hard as he could. He then immediately collapsed and fell asleep on the floor. The girls just didn't know what to do, but they were too scared for the toilet anymore, they just left the restaurant, returned to the hotel and didn't leave it when it was unnecessary.

True story.

There's a site on the net (funsharing.net lol) where you are only allowed to enter after you got an invite from something you know and who acted as a guarantor for you.
If you somehow gained access to this site, you are able to torrent around 100 real snuff movies - truly sick stuff in there.... I saw a woman raped and then beheaded. It changed my life. I dream of this video ~4 days a week and I cry after I wake up from this horrible dream. It's the only vid I downloaded from there, and it will definitely be the last one.

Every version of the Old Testament contains instructions for creating a real golem hidden in the text. Rumor has it that the principal ingredient is semen spilled during an act of incest-by-marriage, in much the same way that Onan did. This is difficult to research, however, as Israel tracks down and kills anyone who threatens to become too successful and steal their monopoly.

This is also part of the reason why the Israeli army wanted their captured soldier back - they didn't want the secret falling into Hezbollah hands...

If you go to New York and order a deli sandwich "with several travesties" (any deli owner worth his salt will know what you are talking about), they will slip an envelope between the turkey and they cheese. If you can remove it without exposing it to any mayonnaise, the secrets within will be yours forever.

It is said that somewhere in the desert, no one knows which desert but it is within a desert or at least a large place wholly made of sand. There stands a single unwithering red rose. Of course you could just pick it and keep it but that would just give you a never withering rose. The true power lies within the fact that if you bring it ten rose petals (Three from a pink rose, Two from a red rose and Five from a white rose.) on a new moon, a new never withering rose will sprout and you can pick it.

You can repeating this trick as long as you like and yes the roses themselves are not fake and they never wither so they make for a great gift, the only problem is that you have to find the right rose in the right desert.

It is said though if you give it a black rose and the blood of a new born goat a black rose will sprout, once that is picked, it is rumored that you will receive a rose whip but this has never been tried. The Black rose trick at least.

I once was siezed by a fit of choking while brushing my teeth. I looked up, bleary-eyed to see my reflection was not in the mirror: at the same time, I felt an irresistible pull into it. I spread my arms as I was lifted off the floor and slammed into it (destroying the mirror in the process). I managed to grab the walls beside the mirror, but for one brief instant, I saw my reflection lying on the other side, twitching in the throes of death.

This is only the most violent of the many things that have occurred to me near mirrors.

On watch in Great Lakes RTC, I watched in the reflection on the glass in front of me as a sailor in the uniform of the 1940's walked up beside me to the watch station, looked at me, shrugged, and stood beside me. I said, "I have the watch tonight, shipmate, get some sleep", and he looked at me, surprised, then turned and walked up the stairs. Of course, I don't have to mention that when I turned to address him, I couldn't see him, do I?

I have seen a mouthless woman beckoning to me, figures behind me, hands clawing desperately at the frames of the mirror. I have looked up and seen myself: sometimes without a beard, sometimes with contacts, and a few times my left eye seems to have been lost to what appears to be a knife slash.

>>441039
is that what that site really is?

(from a post a few months ago talking about real-life brick-shitters)

I don't know where Lumberton is, or if it's by a church, but me and a friend found an abandoned house in......late August, I believe. You could tell the damn thing had been abandoned for quite some time, but only a matter of years. Damn place had rusty old school busses in it's yard and shit, and was hidden off the main road in some small woods. Some of the trash on the ground, outside and in, seemed to imply that some people had occassionally used it as a drugs/alcohol hangout. We went in there and found some retarded stuff.

Under the one bed (In what appeared to be the daughter's room.), was a boy with sex toys and shit, all of which were covered in some unidentifiable crust.

They had some nice shit though, a pool table and a bunch of those beer company lights in the basement, among other thing.

Initially, we were trying to clean it up and hold a party there, and we did clean the living room (lol @ stuffoutwindows), and while my friend took over cleaning, I looked through a desk, and found all these old tax papers and the like, which I took, so we could find out who used to live there. On our way out, we noticed that this place was rich in copper piping, so we cut off all the pipes and left them in a pile inside, because my friend had to get home.

Well, later that night, he calls me all freaked out, saying he went back there with two other people. When they got there, there was some shit blocking both driveways, so they freaked and left, and said that they all threw away all the stuff they had from the place, and he begged me to throw away the folder with the papers I had,(Which was the only thing I'd taken.), so I complied and threw it over towards my garbage cans outside at night, since I was outside at night on the phone to avoid being listened to.

(cont'd...)

>>441051

The next day, him and me go back up there, park a while away, and creep over to the house, walk past the cone in the one driveway, and we go over to the front door.

A door, don't know where it's from, was sitting in the stairway leading to the basement door. (The way we had gotten in; it was unlocked.)And, even better, there was spray paint on the side of the house right above that stariwell and on the door.

"THIS HOUSE IS BEING WATCHED STEP INSIDE AND GET SHOT" (Wall)

"IT'S YOUR MOVE NOW" (Door)

Needless to say, we haven't gone back to that damn place since, and we've cursed ourselves up and down for not taking the copper when we prepared it. And, even worse, when I got home and looked over, and through, my garbage cans, the folder was gone. The only thing I can think that happened to it was that the assholes who live next door stole it or something.

Also of note though, I talked to my Dad a while back, asking if he knew anything about the house, and, as it turns out, one of his friends is watching the place.

I lolled and shat bri/x/ at the same time.

>>440994
holloween ends at 12:00 AM stupid

>>441049

I honestly don't know. I brought this up in a thread around November, and someone claimed to have a pass to the site and that the rumor was true. Of course, this is 4chan, so it is more likely that they lied for the lulz than told the truth.

>>441055

Who said it was at the end of the day? And anyway, you do know that the day after Halloween is of spiritual significance too, right?

>>441032
Batshit crazy, white-haired people are great for parties and biking. Who the fuck are you kidding?

There's a really old farm house near where I lived in West Virginia. Well, it used to be there. It was a Halloween funhouse for the boyscouts for many years until it was torn down. Before that is was a school house and before that it was a farm house. It was white, had a slate roof, wooden siding, weighted single pane windows, a vast 2-story basement and very large attic.

One year when I was helping with the Halloween fun house I decided to go exploring on the unused top floor and attic. There was lots of old old stuff and dust everywhere. The floor had thick dust on it and no sign of foot prints except the ones I left behind.

The attic was huge and just as dusty and undisturbed. Well, I explored old trunks and shit for about an hour up there when I opened one of the last doors I was greated by the sight of an ancient rocking chair facing out the small window. Next to it was an old book on a small table and an old pot that once held a plant or small tree that was all bare and twiggy with spider webs.

The thing that really fucking creeped me out was the fact the entire floor was covered with corpses of dead cats. I think I counted like 32 skulls. They'd been dead so long that they were just bones and fur.

I never walked over to see what the book was on the table. I was like 14 at the time I think and no one really cared about it when I told them because I think the didn't really believe me.

The house was razed by the Fire Dept that December so who knows what was up with that room.

To homeless children sleeping on the street, neon is as comforting as a night-light. Angels love colored light too. After nightfall in downtown Miami, they nibble on the NationsBank building -- always drenched in a green, pink, or golden glow. "They eat light so they can fly," eight-year-old Andre. Andre explains that the angels hide in the building while they study battle maps. "There's a lot of killing going on in Miami," he says.

God fled Heaven to escape an audacious demon attack -- a celestial Tet Offensive. The demons smashed to dust his palace of beautiful blue-moon marble. TV news kept it secret, but homeless children in shelters across the country report being awakened from troubled sleep and alerted by dead relatives. No one knows why God has never reappeared, leaving his stunned angels to defend his earthly estate against assaults from Hell. "Demons found doors to our world," adds eight-year-old Miguel, who sits before Andre with the other children at the Salvation Army shelter. The demons' gateways from Hell include abandoned refrigerators, mirrors, Ghost Town (the nickname shelter children have for a cemetery somewhere in Dade County), and Jeep Cherokees with "black windows." The demons are nourished by dark human emotions: jealousy, hate, fear.

The homeless children's chief ally is a beautiful angel they have nicknamed the Blue Lady. "The demons made it so she only has power if you know her secret name," says Andre. "If you and your friends on a corner on a street when a car comes shooting bullets and only one child yells out her true name, all will be safe. Even if bullets tearing your skin, the Blue Lady makes them fall on the ground. She can talk to us, even without her name. She says: 'Hold on.'"

A blond six-year-old with a bruise above his eye nods his head in affirmation. "I've seen her," he murmurs.

There's a mail box somewhere in the city which can solve your direst problems.

Which city? That depends on who you ask. There may even be more than one, who knows? Anyway, this mail box isn't emptied anymore - the mail service has completely forgotten about it. But it clings on. It is located in some relatively unlikely place so you won't spot it immediately. Mail you put inside it won't go anywhere.

But the box is special. Write a letter about your most pressing problems to the persons in charge of dealing with it: write to your significant other, your boss, the IRS, and get it all off your chest. Ride yourself into deep shit with that letter. You'll see that the problem will dissolve soon, in some way you hadn't thought likely.
The snag of course is that you can't really be sure whether you have found the right mail box until you try it. And if you haven't things are going to get much worse once your letter gets delivered...

>>441055

*Facepalm*

You were out of town for the weekend. When you came back to your apartment, your mailbox was stuffed full. At least 30 letters. Letters with no return address, several of them felt soggy and heavy, as though they were recently wet, or perhaps contained a liquid. All of the letters have your name and address written on them, and many of them had your name scratched all over them in red in. They don't smell nice, they smell like rotting meat and old garbage and you're reluctant to take them back to your room, but curiosity gets the better of you.

So you manage to cart them all back to your room, you dump them in your kitchenette sink because you don't want them smelling up the rest of the apartment. You grab one that doesn't seem damp and isn't covered with writing, and open it up. There's pictures inside. Pictures of people you don't know, with their eyes torn out, teeth missing, unhinged jaws hanging open, throats ripped out. You're horrified and yet you can't help but wonder what's in the rest of the letters. You open more, and more to discover increasingly gruesome photos of dead people. Piles of bodies with limps missing, splayed open corpses on operating tables with their vital organs removed, hanged bodies that have been gutted and bled dry. Some of the soggy letters had blood and other fluids in them.

(cont'd)

>>441066
The more letters you open, the more you notice that not all of the people are strangers. Some of them were people you see at work, others people you went to high school with. By the time you get to the last few letters, the pictures are of the mutilated bodies of your close friends and family members.

Eventually you reach the last letter. You don't want to know what's in it, but it's not like you have a choice now. You peel the letter open, and it's a picture of yourself. Not dead, eyes intact, no limbs missing. It's a picture of you entering your apartment building earlier that day, shortly before you collected your disgusting letters. As you hear a door elsewhere in your apartment open, you black out.

>>441066
>>441067
lol creepy XD

If you take any Swiss Franc note and expose it to microwaves, it will curl up and ignite. Once it's cooled down, you'll find a fine powder that, when ingested, will kill you painlessly. A 10 franc note has enough poison to kill a family of four.

Since 1873, the Global Elite Has Held Secret Meetings in the Ancient Redwood Forest of Northern California.
Members of the so-called "Bohemian Club" include Former Presidents Eisenhower, Nixon and Reagan.

The Bush Family Maintains a Strong Involvement. Each Year at Bohemian Grove, Members of This All-Male "Club" Don Red, Black and Silver Robes and Conduct an Occult Ritual Wherein They Worship a Giant Stone Owl, Sacrificing a Human Being in Effigy to What They Call the "Great Owl of Bohemia."

The grove is the site of a two week retreat every July (as well as other smaller get-togethers throughout the year). At these retreats, the members commune with nature in a truly original way. They drink heavily from morning through the night, bask in their freedom to urinate on the redwoods, and perform pagan rituals (including the "Cremation of Care", in which the members wearing red-hooded robes, cremate a coffin effigy of "Dull Care" at the base of a 40 foot owl altar). Some (20%) engage in homosexual activity.

They watch (and participate in) plays and comedy shows in which women are portrayed by male actors. Although women are not allowed in the Grove, members often leave at night to enjoy the company of the many prostitutes who come from around the world for this event. Is any of this hard to believe? Employees of the Grove have said that no verbal description can accurately portray the bizarre behavior of the Grove's inhabitants.

There's a special brand of cheap condom making the rounds in Europe and just entering the North American market. The brand is popular for it's specially pleasing 'texture.' What many don't know is that when these condoms have served their purpose, they're actually fertilized. Submerging them in water completes the gestation process and within 24 hours, the condoms become living, swimming little latex creatures desperately wanting to go somewhere. If placed in a container, they'll just keep swimming in that same direction, bopping their head against their prison walls or leaping out of the container to their suffocating death. As far as anyone-in-the-know knows, they'll die when exposed to open air or when turned inside-out and emptied of their 'contents.'

Anyway, just to be on the safe side, don't ever flush a condom. You never know where it'll end up.

You don't know it, but someone has been removed from your life. They haven't died, they haven't moved, they have simpy ceased to be from present future and history. However you still know they were there, you faintly recall broken memories of someone else there, someone who should have been there but you think you're crazy. You go to do something, but you can't remember what, and it was them, they wanted to talk to you.

When I was a kid, we used to have an old couch in our house. It was old and pretty tacky. My mom had gotten it at a garage sale or something. One day we decided to up and out the couch. It was when I was young but I remembered it.

Anyhow I was talking to my mom and we brought up the old couch and she told me about something I hadn't remembered for years.

When I was young, maybe four or five I was playing near the couch and a withered black hand reached out to me holding a crumpled paper bag with an unfamiliar hardware store logo on it. I was scared shitless and I didn't touch it. After a few seconds the hand went back under the couch, bag and all.

When I had originally told my mom about the incident she had freaked out and gotten rid of the couch. It turned out it's last owner was an old woman who had died on the couch.
Now is where it gets wierder. I was in town the other day and a grocery store I often visit I noticed a bag with the same logo that was under the couch. No old shrivelled hand was holding it so I had the balls to open it up and look inside.

It was a bag of razorblades.

>>441044
"I have seen a mouthless woman beckoning to me, figures behind me, hands clawing desperately at the frames of the mirror. I have looked up and seen myself: sometimes without a beard, sometimes with contacts, and a few times my left eye seems to have been lost to what appears to be a knife slash."

I'd love to meet this author. reads like classic borges.

In 1653, Spanish explorers found the ruins of what appeared to be a Mesoamerican step pyramid in what is modern South Carolina. Though the site was far beyond the borders of any known American indigenous populations, it was also of a smaller size than existing Mesoamerican structures and bore an unrecognized form of glyphic decoration. Local natives were familiar with the stucture but knew nothing about it. The Spaniards sought to disassemble the building as a heathen relic and did so, brick by brick, salvaging the materials to construct their own nearby settlement. Deconstruction halted, however, when one brick was uncovered at the core of the structure, carved entirely of black glass. The stone, approximately two feet by three, was impossible to move or even budge by any man or animal. Attempts were made to dig the stone out from beneath, but excavation revealed that it extended indefinitely into the earth. In frustration, the captain of the explorers fired a glancing blow off of the surface of the stone. The obsidian block was undamaged, but moments after the blow had struck, it silently retracted downwards, sliding downward into a hole that quickly collapsed inward on itself, burying the retreating obsidian column. The Spaniards interpreted this as an evil omen and abandoned the site, never to return.

In 1938, over 6,000 patients were checked into mental hospitals all across America within one week of each other. Reports of similar instances supposedly came from Europe and Asia as well. The circumstances of each patient were, eerily, identical.

Every patient completely shut down, shivering in the corner until their family, unable to calm or care for the individuals, committed them.

The only thing the patients would say was: "There is not, and never has been, such a thing in this world as a meaningless coincidence."

In a private terminal at the Port of Boston there is a houseboat. This houseboat has been anchored there, permanently, for at least 50 years. The eccentric owner has maintained all fees and taxes and is in good standing with the Port Authority.

Still, even if the owner wasn't finacially responsible, no one would ask them to depart. Despite the owner's friendly, hospitable, if odd nature, there is a persistent air of unease around the boat and the area of the Port surrounding.

Very few people have taken the owner up on offers of hospitality, but those who do recount a wholly unbelievable tale:

When you step into the houseboat, it's as if you're sent backwards 50 years in time. Looking out windows depicts a cityscape of antiquity and the television recieves live broadcasts of programs of the era (including news programs). If you look out the open door, you see the city as it stands today. When the door closes, you can see the 50 year old skyline through the port opening.

Some visitors who spend time with the owner notice something particularly disturbing: an almost uncanny resemblance to their host, despite obvious age differences. Though this is odd, the owner is friendly and trustworthy (ignoring the air of unease most feel), so it isn't surprisng if casual friendships build between a guest and the proprietor.

All this would, of course, be very strange and worthy of note, but dismissed as some form of elaborate hoax or illusion, if it weren't for one additional detail.

(cont'd)

>>441090

Whenever someone elects to spend the night in this houseboat after an evening of conversation and a few drinks, they are never heard from again.

When the guest awakens in the morning, the owner is nowhere to be found and suddenly, the city skyline never changes back to its contemporary appearance when exiting the boat.

Under the bed there is a briefcase full of $100 bills with a letter stapled to a list.

The letter simply reads, "You have 50 years to follow these instructions if you wish to free yourself from this hell.

The clock is ticking. Get to work."

They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah, others say on the California coast, there's a small motel on the side of the road.

When you go inside, it's decorated in very common hotel attire, with the panelling and old fashioned key-lock doors.

The thing is, there's a room in there for everybody. Everybody has a reservation for exactly when they show up, and the number of rooms available is always one more than the number of people there. One person to a room, that is the rule.

Some say that the song "Hotel California" is based off this motel, though you *can* leave this particular motel.

I wouldn't advise looking at a mirror for at least a month after doing so, though.

The images we see in the mirror are the pure incarnates of evil. They are only allowed to exist in the area reflected in the glass. To them, life is like a neverending hell, rotting away in the same room day after day. The only release from this purgatory is death, and the only way for them to die, sad to say, is if YOU die.

Fortunately, they are bound by a code. You are their master, and they must mirror your every movement and expression. To do otherwise would break an unbreakable law, unravelling the space-time continuum. However, there is a loophole, and it can only be triggered by you, the master. To force them into error is to free them from their contract; after you let them out of your view, you're on your own. Know this: when you watch them, they're watching you back. They're watching. And they're thinking.

>>441073
The fact that the first half of the story has almost every first letter capitalized detracts a great deal.
EXAMPLE:
>Each Year at Bohemian Grove, Members of This All-Male "Club" Don Red, Black and Silver Robes and Conduct an Occult Ritual Wherein

See what I mean? Correction of this would profit future postings.

The 51st state of the United States, Arcadia, was admitted to statehood on January 17th, 1977. Exactly 4 years to the day later, Arcadia disappeared along with all its residents, and all memory of its existence was erased from every mind in the world. Its precise former location is unknown, though there is rumored to be a map of the type sold in gas stations and convenience stores held under lock and key in the Library of Congress. Also of note are claims of the sporadic delivery of mail from Arcadia, with modern postmarks, to several major American newspapers, the contents of which are said to be written in an entirely unknown and undecipherable language.

Unfortunately, those letters to a one have been misplaced and are not available for examination.

>>441096

Point taken. I make a point of not modifying these after receiving them, but capitalisation is really a minor fix.

There's a small building somewhere in north western America, up along the border between Oregon and Washington. It's just this short little old shack in the woods off the highway.
Anyways, inside, there's a spiral staircase made of grating that goes straight down.

If you go all the way down, you'll find yourself stepping out into an endless field of tall grass.

There are many bones surrounding the bottom step of the stairs, and things move in the near distance.

Nobody who has ever seen these things has come back to say what they are.

>>440983
"then began to run low on fuel."

"Eventually they repaired the jeep themselves"

wut

On the farthest point of Long Island, the last scrap of land that still counts as New York, there sits a tremendous, abandoned building. Protected by its own isolated location, there is also at any given time two to three Security Guards there. However, if one approaches the cast iron gates on the night of December 4th, even those few security guards refuse to work. The gates are left unlocked, and the wind will be utterly still, a nearly opaque fog filling the peninsula. Go directly to the main doors and step within, there will be a single long hallway , the end occluded by that fog. If you look to either side upon entering, you will see a modern operating room through a glass door. The farther you walk, the older the equipment will get, the more old fashioned the doctors will be dressed. As you can finally see the end of the hallway, the screams of the patients will be nearly deafening. The hall will terminate in an open door leading to a single wooden table, a man in woolen medical clothing, stained brown from blood, will be bent over a corpse. The body's face will be covered, and the man will turn silently, screwing the top onto a cloudy jar of liquid, filled to the brim. He will hand this abnormally heavy object to you, before turning back to his work. Instantly, you will be outside of those cast iron gates. From that point on, disease and injury will never affect you, but if you ever open that cloudy jar and pull out the contents... you will find a heart, pulsing and beating loudly in your palm. A sudden feeling of horror and revulsion will pass through you as realization strikes, that you have just pulled your own living heart from your chest.

>>441102
Thank you, Librarian. Truly, an awesome way to spend the last shift at work tonight

>>441106

Help me report this post:

? ? Anonymous 08/17/07(Fri)01:00 No.464836 ??? Check the box near the offending post.

? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ? ??? Scroll to the bottom of the page

Delete Post [ ? File Only ]??? Leave the File Only box unchecked
? ?? ?????
Password | ******** |?[Delete] [Report]??? Don't change the password. Click the Report button??? ??????? ?
? ?? ?????
Specify "rule violation" in the small box that opens.

Congrats, you have now reported a post.

>>441110

No problem, I figure /x/ needed some treatment to remove the cancer seeping in from /b/.

this is true.

stand in the bathroom, alone enough that you can't hear anyone else in the house and they can't hear you, or, preferrably, completely alone. This is so that you won't be distracted, not because it makes things "scarier"... they don't need to be. You can do this any time, day or night, provided you have a quiet setting.

Look at yourself in the mirror. Give yourself a good look, and resist any urges to comb your hair, wash your face or anything else like that. You aren't trying to fix yourself. You're just trying to see yourself.

Think back to your earliest memories, happy, sad or otherwise. Remember who you were when you were a child of two, three, four years old. What did you want? What did you fear? What did you dream about? Now, stare your reflection straight in the eye, and ask:

"Who are you?"

Be patient with yourself. Ask again. For most people, they have a strong impulse to follow up the question with "You aren't me... so who are you?" Go ahead and say it if the urge strikes you. Just make sure you aren't drowning yourself out. The words are meant to help focus you towards looking yourself in the eye and seeing yourself stripped of conceit and white lies and presuppositions.

I discovered how to do this when I was a teenager, by accident. No one I know who has tried it, including myself, can keep it up for more than a minute or two without becoming very mentally agitated.

In four different subway stations around the world, there are four different bums.

If you speak to one for a while, they will start to recount tales of incredible treasure that they accumulated back in the 1800s.

Now, they could just be crazy bums, but...

All of their stories are exactly the same, in every detail.

Except for where they hid it.

If you need to get home quick hop on a bus that runs a north-south route. Tell the bus driver, "I need to catch the sun before it sets." You won't have to pay fare and he'll make a special stop along his route. Another bus will be waiting for you, heading west. After five minutes and fifty five seconds you'll end up in the town you were born at sunset.

The Librarian is not using the proper image to mark this thread as a creepy pasta thread.

Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail Fail
Aside from that, some nice pasta you have here.

There is a child in a hospital in Decard, Tennessee. The child is a quiet toddler that remains in the nursery with all the other newborns. If you ask the staff, they will ignore you, but the tag on his arm is yellowed and marked 1948. He will not cry, only rock quietly. If you speak the name on his tag, his eyes will open, something you don't want to happen.

In Council Crest Park in Portland, Oregon, at the top of the knoll there is a large paved circle enclosed by a short stone wall. The area has a couple dedications on it, and there is a massive compass of inlaid marble paved into the area, so you know which way you're looking. Stand on the west compass point and walk over to the wall it is pointing to (this is easy because there's a line in the pavement coming out from the point to the wall). Now look at the stones that the wall is made of. Moving south along the wall, count 10 stones along the bottom row and then give the 11th stone a nice hard kick. As you will easily hear, this stone is hollow. Feel free to kick all the other stones everywhere else in the wall... the 11th stone is the only hollow one. You'd have to be completely deaf not to hear the difference. So what's hidden inside? As yet, that remains a mystery.

Ever wonder how some people you meet seem to have no fear whatsoever? You know, those people who go skydiving every weekend, climb thousands of feet up mountains just to snowboard down a side that's 'probably pretty safe, as long as I avoid those trees.' People who marathon-watch the scariest movies you've ever seen, then don't even blink before falling asleep. Well, if you envy them, then there's a way to conquer your own fear. It's just not pretty.

Get on any passenger bus that travels a long distance; Greyhound is usually a good pick. Anything that's on the road for longer than 24 hours. Get a window seat facing west, then stare at the sun, waiting until sunset. Just before the sun touches the horizon, close your eyes. Hard. Do not turn away, don't look at anything else. Cover your ears if you have to.

After a while, you'll notice that the bus has stopped moving. That's the signal that you can open your eyes. When you do, you'll see a gas station, illuminated only by a few flickering flourescent lights. There will be no sun, no moon, no stars in the sky. The convenience store will have its windows boarded up, but the sign will say 'Open.'

If you feel you can't go through with it, get back on the bus, return to your seat, and fall asleep. You'll wake up at sunrise the next day, well on your way to wherever the bus was going.

If you enter the store, the door will slam shut behind you. You will spend an unknown amount of time there, living out your worst nightmares made real. If you survive the ordeal without going mad, you will awake back on the bus, as it reaches its destination. Nothing will ever scare you again.

Some say that after this ordeal, anything else simply pales in comparison. Others say that all that room contains, is all the fear you will ever feel in your entire life, and exposing yourself to it all at once keeps you from feeling any more.

All I know is that if you try to repeat this feat, the sign on the door will say 'Closed.'

If you call yourself on your own cellular phone, sometimes you will get an answer. You won't hear anything other than heavy breathing, so don't bother waiting for them to speak. If you then say the name of a person you know and a reason that they should die (reasons like "I just want them dead" do work, btw), then they will die a gruesome death within the next 24 hours. Their horribly mangled corpse will be completely unrecognizable, and there is never any evidence pointing to a specific perpetrator so the person(s) that performs this service has never been caught.

They say that there is a special word in each holy book of all the great religions; The Koran, The New Testament, The Torah, The Bhagavad Gita; and nine other forgotten books spoke of in the Dead Sea Scrolls.

If all these words can be collected and spoken backwards in their native tongue, then you will vanish to Elysia, the most beautiful of the heavens. You can stay forever, or return to Earth.

If you stay too long, you will forget your life, but if you leave, you will have to kill a child at each full moon to survive. However, while you live you will have untold power over the secrets of the Earth.

You will also know the location of The Soft Places, those fuzzy lands between dreams and waking.

>>440827
A few months ago, my Girlfriend called me up in tears (actually my phone had died, so she had been calling for a few hours). she says, "John....were you out in the woods, you know, off the path, where we usually walk?"
to that i had to say "No" because i had been interviewing for a job that morning.
she continued, becoming hysterical" thats not fucking funny John, you were there, standing in the river..i saw you, you turned and reached put to me, sopping wet, you were there i know it!"
"are you sure it was me Maer?"
"i'd rocognize you anywhere"
she was by then, completely broken down
"you reached out your hand to me, and called me to you"
"Mary i wasn't in the forest, i was at the mall in a job interview."
she said how she had run away, back to her house and hid in her room for hours, under the covers.
"Mary i think you saw my doppleganger"
"double walker?(she knows a bit of german)"
"yeah that, thats not good Mary, did i look alive?"
"yes just very wet..."
"maybe a kelpie? listen to me, you can not go out to those woods again. just stay away from that river."
neither of us have been back there since this happened.
by the way, true story.
what does /x/ think, this disturbed me greatly, and i want to know if something was trying to take her from me. i believe in what she said, she knows what she sees.

http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=69166609

Go to pictures.

See the turtle of enormous girth!
On his shell he holds the earth.
His thought is slow but always kind.
He holds us all within his mind.

There is a doorway, one that can be any door, at any time. This door leads nowhere, yet there lies a realm of twisted reality to the opener. This door exists for everyone - some never encounter it in their lives, others unknowingly open it and step through.

The problem is, you can't tell if the door is open to you, until years after you step through it. You'll see them, and they'll finally see you.

>>441135

No one can really offer you a definitive answer to that. The most optomistic possibility is that your girlfriend had been dreaming the night before and her mind had mixed it up into a sort of "phantom memory," it's happened to a couple people I know, including my brother and me.

They say there is a forest somewhere in the Northeast that takes on a certain quality in the dark of the witching hour. If you go to a certain spot between three granite rocks at precisely midnight, a man in a white suit will appear with a contract written in an unknown arcane tongue.If you sign it, you will lose all your memories, except for one. You will only know the bloodstained path to immortality.

>>441142
well thank you librarian. i'll just keep looking for an answer anyway. she's probably forgotten this entire thing by now. but it's burned into my mind, seeing as by the time she got around to contacting me, i had just finished reading about dopplegangers on /x/.

If you say "Ashwarn, Ashwarn, Ashwarn, I want to make a deal," three times on a flying airplane, he will appear to you and bargain for anything you want. The price? The plane will crash, and you'll be the only surviver.

It's not worth it.

>>441154

You're welcome. Post on /x/ if you find any more good stories.

There is an abandoned mental hospital at the top of a hill in Worcester, Massachusetts. Once every 5 years an old rusty box spring appears within the courtyard of the hospital. If you can sneak inside and sleep through the night on the bed, in the morning a man with a shirt that reads "Observe and obsolve" will take out his wallet and give you a picture. This picture will show you how you will die. If the picture is of the man standing before you, running won't help.

Look behind you. What do you see? Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that lines up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but makes sure you are clear on where this particular spot is. That spot contains all the negativity in your mind. Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked. what do you do when this happens. You check behind you, thats what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you. Check the spot. Nothing again, huh? Thats because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind. Some people, upon learning of this "negative spot" resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake. You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy. Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling of dread that only presented itself when you were genuinely scared will now hang in the air constantly. Within a week you and your loved ones will have a string of bad luck. Within a month your computer will begin to act erratic and eventually break down. On the anniversary of the spots destruction, you will dream of your most horrible fears. The dream will seem to go on forever, and when you wake up you will notice your vision has darkened. Every year on the same day, the dream will repeat itself, and your vision will grow darker and darker. After you go totally blind, don't ever turn your back on that spot again. That is if you can still tell where it is.

>>441154
Life is full of weird fucked up shit. As long as it doesn't fully obstruct your life, just let it roll off your back. Best not to obsess over things that can't be rationally explained.

There is rumor of a great palace unbound deep in the deserts in Egypt. A massive complex of four-thousand rooms protect the single most prized possession of ancient Egypt. The Blood Mirror.

It is said every thousand years, a great hero of mankind must make his way down to this mirror, and stand before it in pick blackness at 19:06 June 6th (6/6 - at 6:66) and behold their own death. Their own image appears to slowly distort, screaming a horrible silent scream as their teeth and skin melt away leaving streams of blood to run down the mirror and pool at the bottom. Gazing into this pool of blood on the other side of the mirror of their own blood will allow them to view the Anti-Christ's birthplace, which they will then scream out in horrible screams of pain for an hour and six minutes, before their heart stops.

If the anti-christ isn't stopped, all of mankind is doomed to an even worse fate.

it has been excatly 940 years from June 6th since this last happened, the next date is 2066, but the location has been lost. The hero will find this place, but we must be there to hear his screams, or we are lost.

The 'Taos Hum' is a low-pitched sound heard in numerous places worldwide, especially in the USA, UK, and northern europe. It is usually heard only in quiet environments. The low hum - between 30 and 80 Hz on the frequency scale - is often described as sounding like a distant diesel engine idling in the distance. Since it has proven indetectable by microphones or VLF antennae, its source and nature remains a mystery. Not everyone can hear the low-pitched hum, and those who do say that it seems artificial in nature - and is driving them crazy.

>>441154

Have you read the how to kill series from here? The guy who writes them said he met his doppleganger in France at very late night/very early morning. He said that he followed it for 6 hours, and was hard to kill as it knew everything that he knew weaknesses and strengths, etc. Really good reads, I had them all in .txt somewhere, I have it misplaced though. He has almost a experience almost more than once with most of the creatures that he tells how to kill.

It is said that during 11 pm on any Sunday, eat a banana and dont drink water. at 12 midnight, look in the mirror for 7 seconds and then sleep. In the middle of your sleep, you will encounter a figure who will give you water, he or she is your soulmate. However, at that precise moment, you SHOULD wake up. If you stay asleep for even less than a second, the exact image of your death and your soulmate's will flash before you. Give it a try, you will be amazed at what you see. I know I did.

-emailed by Ernest Kell, WTC victim, few moments before his death.

>>441165

You know that if you meet up with your doppleganger it will kill you and take over your life?

In a fire station in California, there is a lightbulb that is always on and has never, ever burned out. If you read Numbers 16:41-45 from a King James Bible (other versions dont work) in the same room as this lightbulb, the lightbulb will dim significantly. If you keep reading until Numbers 16:48, the lightbulb goes back to its original brightness.

(The verses are:
41 But on the morrow all the congregation of the children of Israel murmured against Moses and against Aaron, saying, Ye have killed the people of the LORD.
42 And it came to pass, when the congregation was gathered against Moses and against Aaron, that they looked toward the tabernacle of the congregation: and, behold, the cloud covered it, and the glory of the LORD appeared.
43 And Moses and Aaron came before the tabernacle of the congregation.
44 And the LORD spake unto Moses, saying,
45 Get you up from among this congregation, that I may consume them as in a moment. And they fell upon their faces.
46 And Moses said unto Aaron, Take a censer, and put fire therein from off the altar, and put on incense, and go quickly unto the congregation, and make an atonement for them: for there is wrath gone out from the LORD; the plague is begun.
47 And Aaron took as Moses commanded, and ran into the midst of the congregation; and, behold, the plague was begun among the people: and he put on incense, and made an atonement for the people.
48 And he stood between the dead and the living; and the plague was stayed.)

>>441180

The trick is, if you hesitate too long while the lights are dim, you start seeing a weird lightshow in front of your eyes, it is most similar to what happens when you rub your eyes for a long time while they are closed.

If you wait for still longer, the lightshow starts forming patterns, like circles and triangles. Still longer, and the lightshow starts to form WORDS. The people that have read these words are reluctant to talk about it, but are often obsessed with the year 2012 and are very interested in what countries are producing biological weapons...

There is a house somewhere in China, built some time after the First Emperor has unified it. The house is built in treacherous terrain, and has not been seen by human eyes for some time. The architecture is typical of Imperial China, but that's not the strange part.

If you stay in the house, you'll notice something very strange. If you take measurements, you'll find that the inside of the house is larger than the outside. First it'll be a fraction of an inch, than an inch, then a foot, then a yard...

...you'll even notice features from the inside that are impossible to find externally, like extra rooms and hallways. Going within these is safe, and you can see the outside, but strangely enough no one AT the outside can see you or the feature.

Most people get out at this point, but their vision is forever altered; the world keeps distorting in dimensions and size in their eyes. Then there are those who choose to stay further, and have never been seen again.

It is said that they occupy the parts of the building that only reveal themselves to those who stay longer.

There is a hidden file on all Windows computers that, if viewed, causes gastrointestinal problems.

There is a hidden file on all Macs that, if viewed, kills your sexual drive.

There is a hidden file in all Linux computers that, if viewed, causes a complete loss of sanity.

This file is in the exact same location on all computers in the world.

Have you heard about the Australian scientist and techno composer who smeared yogurt on a CD to get different sounds out of a CD because of the bacteria? Have you ever wondered how it affects the movies one watches on a DVD?

Trust me, you don't want to find out.

>>441154
Are you the demons?

>>441177
If that were entirely true and they mimiced you on a scale that was 100%, you would still be thinking the same thought and that your doppelganger might be out there.

Sorry, I'm a skeptic at heart =P

In New York City, there exists a pathway somewhere on the FDR drive that is only accessible at 2:30 A.M on either the winter or summer solstice. During any other day of the year, this pathway does not exist. Only one person's account of entrance to this passageway has been recorded.

This man entered the pathway in the summer solstice of 1998, and went missing for half a year until the winter solstice, at which point he and his car was found on the right lane of the road.

The car's battery and gas was completely drained, and the glass had turned pitch black. Inside, there was a stench of blood, but no actual blood in sight. The driver was alive, but he had a perpetual look of horror on his face, and was mute.

7 years later, the driver finally uttered a sentence, but only one sentence, before he died two days later from unexplainable symptoms resembling that of third-degree burns, but with no physical manifestation of them in sight.

His final sentence was mostly incoherent, but only three distinct words were clearly uttered. These words were "devil," "soul," and "rebirth."

Any and all attempts that were made to decrypt the rest of his incoherent sentence, were unsuccessful, and those that tried were said to have experienced horrible, reocurring nightmares where every place on earth was covered in blood. Only two of these people were able to describe this pathway on the FDR which the driver supposedly took, and one of them went braindead soon after.

Furthermore, the only way you can enter this pathway is mainly, by accident, since consciously thinking about it will prevent it from emerging. Consider me telling you this a favor, for it means that I've saved your lives and spared you the horror of finding out for yourselves what lies beyond that hidden pathway on the FDR.

This is really late coming, but I had one recently. I live on a cul-de-sac that is up really high on a hill and you have to walk down an extremely steep street to get to the mailboxes. I live about a block from the seaside and there's almost always a bit of mist coming in from the ocean. This one day it was particularly thick and it had rained earlier that day. I took my dog with me. The fog was so thick it was like you could actually feel it in the air when you inhaled. By the time with got to the mailbox, I almost couldn't see. cont'd

Now my dog is a full bred German Shepherd, and he doesn't get scared easily. All of a sudden, he starts whimpering and getting really aggitated. He urinated on himself (which I've never seen him do) that made me think of the scene in "Signs" which the cop says that's how the animals acted when the aliens came around. Now, mind you, I am nearly twenty and not the type to believe in the threat of an alien invasion, but I was gettting really freaked. Then, he just stops. He stared ahead at a where the stop sign is for the road perpendicular to ours. He let out a low, almost inaudible, growl. I looked up and could barely make out a figure in the fog. Someone was just standing there. I couldn't tell if he was facing me or the road. My heart stopped. It was such an eerie picture. He was sort of half-leaning to one side, like maybe his right arm was paralyzed or something. I jumped when Koda barked. The figure turned and now I could see he was facing me. All I wanted to do was get the hell outta there. I was scared to move. I heard a car approach and I prayed it was coming up my street. The lights would be greatly appreciated. Lo and behold, it did. They were speeding and before I knew it the car plowed over the hill and down the street before I realized it. At first, I was scared that they had maybe hit the man, he WAS standing in the middle of the road. I looked around but couldn't even see him. I was terrified. Where could he have gone in that split-second? Anywho, needless to stay I ran to my house as fast as I could. That was about a week ago. But I still get a little freaked when I think about it.

If you watch long enough, the shadows grow impatient, and move. When in a room alone with your monitor, stare at it. The shadow will slowly close in on you, until you move. Of course, it is afraid of your monitor, as dark cannot snuff out light, but light can indeed destroy the dark. Watch sometime in a room with only internal light. If you stare at them for long enough, the shadows will begin to move. Sometimes you can make out shapes.

These things have lived with you your whole life, and will follow you wherever you may go, unless you command them in the proper authority to leave, and ensure they have no legal right to be there. Few know and understand the proper authority, and even fewer know just what to do.

The shadows are always watching.

>>441191
>>441192

How much of the figure could you make out? A pretty detailed face, or just a silhouette?

In 1990, a small meteorite was sighted in the night sky by the Hubble telescope. It appeared to be on a collision course with earth, but calculations showed that it was far too small and moving far too slowly to be a threat to our home planet.

In 1997, the long-forgotten meteorite entered the atmosphere.

It did not burn away, as scientists predicted; it barely even grew warm. Even so, it landed without drawing much attention on the outskirts of a village in the middle of Africa, on the edge of the Sahara.

Three months later, a safari expedition vanished while en route through the jungle. They never reached their checkpoint, within walking distance from the desert.

A research team in 1998 happened on the impact crater of the meteorite by chance. They detected high levels of radiation in the crater, though they could not identify what element had caused it. They drove to the nearby village to warn the locals of the danger, but the settlement was completely empty. Not a soul nor a body could be found for miles around. The only evidence of life left, current or past, were the long-abandoned grass huts, and a great number of footprints leading into the sands of the Sahara. None of the footprints could be matched against any living creature on record.

Denver international airport is a strange place. When walking through the hospitality areas the walls are painted with murals. Many of these murals are quite innocuous, depicting sunrises, cityscapes and wildlife. Three of the murals, however, are quite different. One depicts a young aryan boy (caucasian, blonde, and blue-eyed) dressed in a way strongly resembling the hitler youth uniform, beating farming implements into swords while other children watch on in awe. Another shows a burning cityscape in the background, flames rising into the sky, while a native american woman cradles two children, one of them wrapped in a shroud, quite obviously dead and dessicated. Finally, the third mural features a man in a dictatorial military uniform (complete with black leather gloves and boots and a long, matching cape), wearing a gasmask and wielding some kind of strange energy sword. Many people think he resembles Darth Vader, while being much more unsettling. These three murals have since been altered, but why were they painted in such a strange fashion in the first place? What purpose do these grim images have in an Airport? What's behind the closed drapes concealing portions of the walls next to these odd paintings? These paintings are very real, look them up.

Letters, manuscripts, and other records written by Colonel Percy Harrison Fawcett were compiled by his son, Brian, in Lost Trails, Lost Cities (Funk & Wagnalls, 1953; also titled Exploration Fawcett). In this chronicle, the Colonel detailed his adventures in Mato Grosso, South America, as he searched for the ruins of an ancient lost city ("I call it 'Z' for the sake of convenience," he wrote) between 1906 and 1925. Though his journal ended with his strange disappearance sometime after 29 May 1925, his story continued long after.

Fawcett's interest in the occult insured that more speculative accounts of his adventures would ensue. Fawcett had in his possession a black basalt stone idol, given him by none other than Sir H. Rider Haggard. He wrote, "I could think of only one way of learning the secret of the stone image, and that was by means of psychometry -- a method that may evoke scorn by many people but is widely accepted by others who have managed to keep their minds free from prejudice." The psychotometrist, holding the idol in the dark, told Fawcett of "a large irregularly shaped continent stretching from the north coast of Africa across to South America... Then I see volcanoes in violent eruptions, flaming lava pouring down their sides, and the whole land shakes with a mighty rumbling sound... The voice says: 'The judgment of Atlanta will be the fate of all who presume to deific power!' I can get no definite date of the catastrophe, but it was long prior to the rise of Egypt, and has been forgotten -- except, perhaps, in myth." Fawcett asserted that "the connection of Atlantis with parts of what is now Brazil is not to be dismissed contemptuously, and belief in it -- with or without scientific corroboration -- affords explanations for many problems which otherwise are unsolved mysteries." (Lost Trails, Lost Cities, pp. 15-17)

(cont'd)

>>441209

In a letter to his son Brian, Colonel Fawcett wrote of the city he sought:

I expect the ruins to be monolithic in character, more ancient than the oldest Egyptian discoveries. Judging by inscriptions found in many parts of Brazil, the inhabitants used an alphabetical writing allied to many ancient European and Asian scripts. There are rumors, too, of a strange source of light in the buildings, a phenomenon that filled with terror the Indians who claimed to have seen it.

The central place I call "Z" -- our main objective -- is in a valley surmounted by lofty mountains. The valley is about ten miles wide, and the city is on an eminence in the middle of it, approached by a barrelled roadway of stone. The houses are low and windowless, and there is a pyramidal temple. The inhabitants of the place are fairly numerous, they keep domestic animals, and they have well-developed mines in the surrounding hills. Not far away is a second town, but the people living in it are of an inferior order to those of "Z." Farther to the south is another large city, half buried and completely destroyed.

In April 1933, a theodolite compass belonging to Fawcett was found near the camp of the Bacaari Indians in the Mato Grosso. The excellent condition of the compass led Fawcett's wife Nina to believe he was still alive.

i could barely see anything at all.
very very faint features

There was once a civilization in the Amazon that used a calendar that counted backwards rather than forwards.

No one's really sure what's going to happen when it gets to zero.

>>441212

Do you know who was driving the car by chance?

On the morning of April 13th 2004 police were called to a house on the outskirts of a small village in central England.. They had been called by nieghbours who had heard a sound that had chilled them to the bone.. a single strangled scream with an abrupt cut-off...

They new little about the woman who lived next door, only the rumours they had heard in the village shop and over the bar of the Black Lion pub on the corner - they had heard that she had moved to village to escape her memories - her daughter had been gone for several weeks before she would believe what the police had been telling her, but still her mind shied away from the truth and she kept the room ready for her return, the bed made and toys laid out - and every morning she would run to the room half expecting to see her lying there, teddy bear in her arms and a sleepy smile on her face as she awoke.

After her husband left her, torn apart by grief and his wifes slowly slipping grip on sanity, her family had bought her the new home, wanting to give her a chance at a life, a new start.
she had been living there for 3 months now, but had never spoken to anyone - she hardly left the house in fact, groceries were delivered and left on the porch and she would scurry out, pale and dishevelled, avoiding the eyes of any who might look her way...

When the police broke the door down and went inside what they found was to put more than half of the village bobbies into psychiatric care so that they could sleep again.. but the worst thing of all was not the contents of the house, it was the contents of the camera lying on the floor in a pool of blood.. this was the last photo it ever took...

>>441197
>and ensure they have no legal right to be there.
LOL U TRESPASING SHADOW NIGGER.

Item#: SCP-173
Special Containment Procedures: Item SPC-173 is to be kept in a locked container at all times. When personnel must enter SCP-173's container, no fewer than 3 may enter at any time and the door is to be relocked behind them. At all times, two persons must be looking at SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.

Description: Moved to Site19 1993, little is known about item number SCP-173's origins. It is constructed from concrete and rebar and was once painted with Crylon brand spraypaint.

SCP-173 is animate and malevolent, if given the chance it will kill anyone within its line of site. Its weakness however is that it does not move while being watched. Despite this paralysis it is still highly dangerous, able to cover at least 2 meters in the literal blink of an eye. It typically kills by either snapping the victim's neck from behind, or grabbing the victim's throat and strangling them. Whatever animates SCP-173 does not give it much force with which to break things; as seen above, a large room with unbarred windows is fully capable of containing it. Its grip however is unbreakable, as when it is not moving the statue is as hard and strong as concrete.

While left alone in its room, one can hear a stone-on-stone scraping from within that is believed to be the sound of the SCP-173 moving about.

The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. We don't know (nor wish to find out) where it comes from or how it arrives but SCP-173's container will slowly fill with these substances. In order to ensure that bacterial growth within does not begin to damage the building it is contained in, and to maintain some level of sanitation, the enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.

A man, at about the age of 30 went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check-in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and all, 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. So he went to his room, and went to bed. The next night he was curious as to what was in the room, so he walked down the hall to where it was and of course tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. So he bent down and looked through the keyhole. What he saw was a hotel bedroom and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning up against a wall and her head was facing the wall. He stared in confusion for a while then went back to his room. The next day, he went back to the room and looked through the keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out, all he saw was red.

At this point he was confused and a little freaked out. He went to the front desk and asked the lady about the room. She sighed and said, "Did you look through the keyhole?" The man told her that he had and the lady 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 are red."

A young girl is left home alone with only her dog to protect her. When night approaches, she locks all the doors and tries to lock all the windows but one won't close.
She decides to leave it unlocked and goes to bed. Her dog takes its customary place under her bed.

In the deep of night she awakens to a dripping sound coming from the bathroom. The girl is too scared to go check so she reaches her hand under the bed. She feels a reassuring lick from her dog and falls back to sleep. She reawakens to the dripping sound, reaches her hand down to the dog where she feels the reassuring lick and falls back to sleep. Once more she awakens to the dripping sound. She reaches her hand down and feels the lick of her dog.
Now curious about the dripping sound, she gets up and slowly walks towards the bathroom, the dripping sound getting louder as she approaches. She reaches the bathroom and turns on the light. She is greeted by a horrific sight; hanging from the shower nozzle is her dog with its throat slit open and its blood dripping into the bathtub.

Something on the bathroom mirror catches her eye she turns around. Written on the bathroom mirror in her dog's blood are the words "HUMANS CAN LICK TOO".

A very rich man had a son. He was very proud of his son. The son was smart and diligent and did well in school.

On the son's 16th birthday, the father went to his son and said "son, you are the apple of my eye and I'm very proud of you. I am a very rich man and since you have made me so proud I will buy you ANYTHING you ask me to buy you for your 16th birthday."

The son, without hesitation, asked his father for 1,000 green golf balls.

The father was taken aback. "But son, that's such a strange request! Might I remind you that I'm VERY rich, and I could buy you ANYTHING your heart desires?!"

But the son was adamant, and his father, though confused, honored his son's request.

Some years later the son graduated from college at the top of his class. His father, once again beaming with pride, came to his son.

"Son, you are the apple of my eye and I'm very proud of you. I am a very rich man and since you have made me so proud I will buy you ANYTHING you ask me to buy you for your college graduation."

The son, without hesitation, asked his father for 2,000 green golf balls.

The father once again was confused, and a bit angry.

"Son, that's a ridiculous request! I'm offering to buy you ANYTHING you want! I'm a very rich man, and almost NOTHING is beyond my requisition! So please, reconsider, and tell me what you REALLY want!"

But the son was adamant, and his father, though bewildered and frustrated, honored his son's request.

(cont'd)

>>441221

Years later, the son, following in his father's footsteps, was a very successful businessman. He'd married a beautiful wife and borne his father many wonderful grandchildren.

One night as they ate dinner in an expensive restaurant, his father said to his son, "son, you are the apple of my eye and I'm very proud of you. I am a very rich man and since you have made me so proud I will buy you ANYTHING you ask me to buy you in honor of your fantastic success and wonderful family."

Once again without blinking his son asked for 3,000 green golf balls.

Enraged, his father slammed his hands on the table and yelled, "WHY MUST YOU MOCK MY GENEROSITY SO?! FINE; YOU'LL HAVE YOUR STUPID GOLF BALLS, BUT YOU HAVE LOST YOURSELF A FATHER!"

And so the trade was made; the son's strange request for the animosity of his once-doting father.

Several years later, the father and the son not having spoken once since, the father got a call from a hospital informing him that his son had gotten into a terrible car accident and was dying. Forgetting all about his grudge against his son, the father flew down to his son's side in a flash. His son was conscious for the first time in days as his father arrived.

"Son, you are the apple of my eye and I'm very proud of you. I'm so sorry for disowning you! I know I never should have! I'm so sorry for the years we've lost! But I must know, son, why did you want all those green golfballs; those wretched orbs that drove us apart?! Surely you had a grand design for them; you're the perfect son and I could not have asked for anything more in the world than you!"

His son, on death's door, looked into his father's eyes and said weakly, "well, father, I-"

And then he died.

A baby girl is mysteriously dropped off at an orphanage in Cleveland in 1945. "Jane" grows up lonely and dejected, not knowing who her parents are, until one day in 1963 she is strangely attracted to a drifter. She falls in love with him, but just when things are looking up for Jane a series of disasters strikes: First, she becomes pregnant by the drifter, who then disappears. Second, during the complicated delivery doctors discover that Jane has both sets of sex organs, and to save her life, they most surgically convert "her" to a "him." Finally, a mysterious stranger kidnaps her baby from the delivery room.

Reeling from these disasters, rejected from society, scorned by fate, "he" becomes a drunkard and a drifter. Not only has Jane lost her parents and her lover, but he has lost his only child as well. Years later, in 1970, he stumbles into a lonely bar, called Pop's Place, and spills out his pathetic story to an elderly bartender. The sympathetic bartender offers the drifter the chance to avenge the stranger who left her pregnant and abandoned, on the condition that he join the "time traveller corps." Both of them enter a time machine and the bartender drops the drifter off in 1963. The drifter is strangely attracted to a young orphan girl, who subsequently becomes pregnant.

The bartender then goes forward 9 months, kidnaps the baby girl from the hospital, and drops the baby off in an orphanage back in 1945. Then the bartender drops off the thoroughly confused drifter in 1985, to enlist in the time traveller corps. The drifter eventually gets his life together and becomes respected and elderly member of the time traveller corps, and then disguises himself as a bartender and has his most difficult mission: a date with destiny, meeting a certain drifter at Pop's Place in 1970.

>>441217

You should have posted the accompanying picture if you had it.

>>441222

I never did understand that one.

A young prodigy grew up in a loving home. His parents were kind, but not overindulgent. Strict, but fair. The boy grew up in a very well-balanced environment.

The boy, Nathaniel Zimmermann, discovered his taste for blood perhaps as early as seven years old. Only coincidences connect him to the horrifically mutilated animal carcasses that were always found six hundred sixty-six paces into the forest. Animals were found splayed open, organs neatly cut and dissected, eyes and mouths opened wide, illustrating the unspeakable pain in their last moments of life.

Nathan, on top of being a genius, also had incredible cunning. He kept his bloodlust under absolute control. He had no interest in friends, and he was spectacular at mimicking human emotion. He feigned a healthy contentment with life so that his parents wouldn't get suspicious.

Nathan graduated medical school with top honors, and decided to become a surgeon. His handiwork was precise and efficient. His surgeries often ended in record time. Then his cover was blown.

Nathan's sadism was eventually exposed. It was discovered that in addition to tampering with anaesthetics (explaining his absolute contempt towards anaesthesiologists), he sometimes replaced a person's painkillers with snake venom.

Nathan's medical license was revoked, but he found his niche in being a torturer-for-hire.

His only stipulation was that the victim was to die immediately following the torture, as any pain they felt after the torture would be almost pleasurable. Nathan so hated when people felt happy.

(cont'd)

>>441229

Nathan has murdered countless people, almost always torturing them first. It is rumored that when one of his victims was unable to feel pain, he simply started cutting off her extremities until she was immobile, then he shoved a screwdriver through her skull.

Oddly, it is not known whether he is a virgin. His arrogance seems to preclude him from any sexual contact, as he considers himself greater than a human. What is frightening is that he may very well be right.

>>441225

I don't, feel free to post it though. I'll be sure to save it if you do.

Do you ever wonder how scary death is? Think about it, its the one thing that we truly know absolutely nothing about. Some people may cite religious beliefs of an afterlife, others might claim they just focus on life, but its really something that is totally and utterly foreign to us. And what if the religious people are wrong? What if death really is nonexistance, that its simply over once the brain dies? Terrifying, huh? Of course, a reasoning goes that you won't notice it, since you won't exist. But... Let's say a certain someone could expose you nonexistance. Let's say this person could actually let you experience the state of not existing and more importantly, let you remember it. He'd probably be able to get you to agree to anything in order to avoid that fate.

Tangentially, for certain people near death, their brain activity sometimes ceases completely for about 3 seconds, and then returns, only to shortly die in a more conventional fashion. As another aside, many hospital orderlies have noticed a man wearing a suit that they have never seen in any catalog or on any person before. Interestingly enough, when you ask them about the suit, they will struggle for a moment, then reply that it’s hard to describe, but they are sure they haven’t seen it before. Ask them about the man, however, and they will freeze up, spasm violently, and reply "What man?"

Kingofwolves mega dump.
Thx for the read!

An elderly man was sitting alone on a dark path. He wasn't certain of which direction to go, and he'd forgotten both where he was traveling to and who he was. He'd sat down for a moment to rest his weary legs, and suddenly looked up to see an elderly woman before him. She grinned toothlessly and with a cackle, spoke: "Now your *third* wish. What will it be?"

"Third wish?" The man was baffled. "How can it be a third wish if I haven't had a first and second wish?"

"You've had two wishes already," the hag said, "but your second wish was for me to return everything to the way it was before you had made your first wish. That's why you remember nothing; because everything is the way it was before you made any wishes." She cackled at the poor man. "So it is that you have one wish left."

"All right," he said, "I don't believe this, but there's no harm in wishing. I wish to know who I am."
"Funny," said the old woman as she granted his wish and disappeared forever. "That was your first wish."

If you ever find dargaia's nectar, you'll probably be one of the ones who have been looking for it all their lives, and thus won't need any instructions on what to do with it.
Just the same, it's pretty simple, at least to start with. Make sure your affairs are in order (in case you have a bad reaction), and then? Bottoms up.

The coming months are the least pleasant part. You'll find yourself unable to keep food down long before you're far enough along to stop needing it. Same with sleep. The colour of your blood will be off, and your veins will consequently stand out more. Expect a few ingrown body parts; little things, just fingers and ears and teeth, usually pressing up against the skin. Make sure you're caught up on your booster shots because you're never going in for a checkup again. Or wearing anything more revealing than a trench coat in public, most likely.
Eventually, a little cut on your belly will start 'unhealing', becoming a puss-filled wound in a few days. Over the coming week, three things will emerge from this.

The first object resembles a greasy black beechnut with maybe a tooth or two growing from it. When you're dead someone will eventually find it and use it to make a new batch of dargaia's nectar. Hide it well, make things fun for future generations.

The second object basically looks like a softball-sized cluster of veins, many of them broken and leaking oily black stuff, all wrapped around something. Then it'll squirm and you'll notice the twisted little skinless fetus in the middle. It will only survive for about twenty seconds. Burn the remains.

(cont'd)

This motorcyclist is linked to a ghost light that has been said to appear on March 21 every year in a small town called Elmore, Ohio. The story claims that this rider met an untimely death shortly after World War I. He had been mustered out of the army and with his pay, bought a brand new motorcycle. He came home to Elmore in hopes of seeing his best girl, whom he had not seen in some time. When he arrived at her family's farm, he learned that she had become engaged to another man. Angry and hurt, he roared off on the motorcycle. A few yards from the girl's driveway, the road curved and crossed a bridge. Somehow, the young soldier lost control of the bike and crashed into a ravine. His body and motorcycle were later found in pieces... the bike had been torn apart and the young man had been decapitated.

Every year after, on the anniversary of the young man's death, visitors who stood on the bridge reported seeing the light of the motorcycle as it left the farm, rounded the curve and then vanished halfway across the bridge.

>>441236

The third object will.. Well, let's just call it "object 3". It's easier that way.
You can plant it anywhere you want. I advise some place where you don't mind spending all your time and no one else would go. Your back yard or under your cellar works if you don't have any roommates; as long as there's fertile soil. Dig at least five feet down. It won't want to be buried, but just keep piling dirt onto it (if you can still hear it when you're finished you didn't go deep enough).

Its veins (or roots, I guess) will eventually spread in all direction about a foot and a half for every year of your life. Grass and weeds will grow stiff and bony, or black and oily, or take on the colour and texture of a spider bite, or rice paper. Wood will be infected too; you'll hear the arteries in your walls pulsing on quiet nights. The ground will rot with dead insect and animal life. Don't mow your lawn; it bleeds like hell.

This is your sanctuary.

No matter what threats or injuries beset you outside, here you will be safe and healthy. Well, what passes for 'healthy' for you now. And if you really hate someone, bring them here. Trick them into coming. They'll get infected, one way or another; a lungful of spore, a thorn prick, a bit of residue on their hand. They will blood-vomit and the blood will have tiny centipedes in it. They'll shit out their own spinal fluids. Their eyes will milk over and hatch; little spines and brambles will grow from the sockets. They'll survive for months or years, doctors will be baffled.

That's all for starters. You'll learn more as you go. Much more. But if I told you everything now you might not do it.

Whatever you do, just guard it with your life, with your very soul. If you think you're in danger of losing it, dig it up, kill it with a silver needle, and let someone else make a new one someday. You'll feel as if you've pierced your own heart, but it's better than letting it fall into the wrong hands.

If you stand alone at the corner of Church St. and Market St. in Charleston, South Carolina at 3 AM, you see a man coming down Church St. wearing a black hat and black cape with stringy white hair and weathered skin. He'll stop at one of the two corners directly across from where you are standing and start to walk the corner directly opposite from where he is standing. When he reaches about halfway (dead center of the intersection) and nobody else has arrived, he'll stop, turn, and look directly at you.

If you do not blink for roughly 20-30 seconds he'll tip his hat to you and walk along his way, disappearing into the dark shadows of the trees that line the streets. Nobody knows what happens if you follow him.

If you do blink before he tips his hat, the very first thing you will see is the man standing directly in front of you. He'll grin maliciously at you and draw a blade hidden in the shaft of the cane and slash you across your throat, but you will not feel a thing. You will, however, pass out and remain in a comatose state until the sun rises over the horizon.

For the next six nights, you will have a recurring dream of the man walking down the street, appearing suddenly before you, and slashing your throat. On the seventh night, the events will replay the same up until he stops in the middle of the intersection. At this point, he'll say, "It's been fun playing with you, boy, but now it's time for you to go. Don't ever let me see you again." He'll then tip his hat and walk away before you wake up.

Nobody knows what happens if you visit the corner a second time.

Richard Gill was a student at nearby Bowling Green University and had an avid interest in the paranormal. As March 21 neared, he and a friend decided to stake out the haunted bridge. They brought along a movie camera, a still camera and a tape recorder. They parked their car on the far side of the bridge and then followed the procedure that, legend had it, caused the ghost light to appear. He blinked his car lights three times and then honked his horn three times. Suddenly, the light appeared near the farm house and flew toward the bridge, where it vanished.

Excited now, they repeated the experiment, this time crossing the bridge with a string. This way, they would learn if it was a physical object that crossed the bridge rather than a supernatural one. They repeated the summoning procedure and the light appeared again, following the same course. The string remained where they had left it!

Now it was time for the next step... one of them would stand in the middle of the bridge as the light approached. The light appeared again and Gill was puzzled when his friend did not return to the car. He went to check on him and found him in a ditch by the side of the road... badly beaten! He had not idea what had hit him and recalled nothing other than watching the light approach.

I grew up in an old rail-road town in Pennsylvania. I was walking deep in the woods along the railroad tracks not to far from my house and I stumbled upon a overgrown path coming out of the woods. I followed it for a short ways until I find a just a basement of a burned down building. It’s charred black and there are dead plants and leaf-less trees around it. It’s a simple concert basement, perfectly square (somewhere around 24 feet, I was too young to remember). A rusted ladder lead to the flat of the bottom and along the wall looked to a fuse box. At it’s bottom was a layer of decaying leaves, a rotting deer corpse, and the bones of other small animals strewn about the leaves. Instantly that made me shit some brix, but it’s when I investigated further that I saw what really upset me.

One wall had a huge reinforced metal door that was held tight with a HUGE old, thick lock. There was a second lock that held together a chain that webbed across the door. Why the hell would someone need to lock up a door like that—--all the way out here in the countryside of a piss-ant little town? At the base of the door was a fair new hatchet, I can only assume that someone was trying to hack their way inside. Stupid fuck, I wouldn’t ever want to know what was behind it. I must admit, I shit several brick houses when I think about what could have been behind there.

(cont'd)

Somehow, Gill convinced his friend to try one last experiment. They parked on the same side of the bridge from the direction the light came from and pointed their car in the opposite direction. This time after summoning the light, they started moving away from it. The light overtook them, passed through the car and vanished.... and Gill and his friend kept right on driving!

What did the cameras and recorder pick up? The movie film was totally blank, the still camera picked up only a light source and the recorder picked up some sort of high-pitched noise. Was it the ghost light? there was no way to tell.

In the years that have followed, the ghost light continues to return to the bridge. Is the phenomena really caused by the ghost of an dead motorcyclist... or is he a convenient legend like the decapitated railroad men who haunt crossings where ghost lights are seen? No one really knows for sure, but on March 21, you can bet that there will be people on the Elmore bridge who hope to find out!

Elmore, Ohio is located about fifteen miles southeast of Toledo along Highway 51. The bridge where the light appears is across the middle branch of the Portage River east of the town

>>441243

But that’s not the end of it. Later, I went back with a friend to find it again (like stupid fucks, we did it the day before Halloween). We could never find it, I swear the path just ended with brush. But what we did find was shit-worth. A really old graveyard—I’m serious—a graveyard with about 7-10 graves. I think it was dead people who worked for the railroad or a hobo’s graveyard. It was so stereotypical that most people don’t think I’m telling the truth when I say it. But, at the center there was an old willow tree that the graves were focused around. Thick brush surround it, expect for on the sunken graves. Then, to top it off, a cast-iron gate. Like an idiot kid, I explored it, that is until I found the only marked grave with my initials on it. I shit several houses and high-tailed out of there like a total pussy. I never went back.

I talked to my sister over this summer. She told me she knew what only visited the graveyard one. Upon leaving, and swore to me, that a ghost of a man in overalls chased her and her friend all the way down to the rail road bridge. She said he had no face and that he brandished a wrench at her.

Granted, she could be fucking with me, but she really had no reason to.

True. Story. I swear upon /x/.

Who discovered the existence of the dead? Everyone knows the name of Antonia Simone, but the exact circumstances of her discovery are wildly varied. In 1992, her younger brother Ricardo, was injured in a martial arts accident that left him completely paralyzed. He needed a respirator to live and could only communicate through eyeblinks. She was a computer scientist at the Xerox Palo Alto Research Center and decided to create a computer terminal sensitive to the slightest energy source. She was a student of Kirlian photography and strongly believed the body’s electromagnetic fields could affect sensitive electronic equipment. She created a terminal that could not be affected by traditional means -- no keyboard, mouse or other input devices. A veritable black box.

Ms. Simone was devoted to her brother and tried for years to make a computer terminal that would allow her brother to communicate naturally. Distraught over the failure of her terminal, which she thought would free thousands of similarly afflicted people, she killed herself by hanging. When paramedics found her body days later, there on a computer screen was the message: “What took you guys so long? I’ve got the most important news.”

>>441222
i lol'd.

There was a couple from Texas who was planning a weekend trip across the Mexican border for a shopping spree. At the last minute, their baby-sitter canceled, so they had to bring along their two year old son with them. They had been across the border for an hour when the baby got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he disappeared. The mother found a police officer who told her to go to the gate and wait. Not really understanding the instructions, she did as she was told. About 45 minutes later, a man approached the border, carrying the boy. The mother ran to him, grateful that he had been found. When the man realized it was the boy's mother, he dropped him and ran. The police were waiting for him. The boy was dead, and in less than the 45 minutes he was missing, he was cut open, all of his organs removed, and was stuffed with cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.

A few years ago, a mother and father decided they needed a break, so they wanted to head out for a night on the town. They called their most trusted babysitter. When the babysitter arrived, the two children were already fast asleep in bed. So the babysitter just got to sit around and make sure everything was okay with the bastard children. Later that night, the babysitter got bored and went to watch TV, but she couldn't watch it downstairs because they did not have cable downstairs (the parents didn't want bastard children watching too much garbage). So, she called them and asked them if she could watch cable in the parent's room. Of course, the parents said it was ok, but the babysitter had one final request... she asked if she could cover up the clown statue in their bedroom with a blanket or cloth, because it made her nervous. The phone line was silent for a moment, and the father who was talking to the babysitter at the time said, "Take the children and get out of the house... we will call the police. We do not have an clown statue."

>>440773
What if you wish for it to be bright and sunny outside always?

alright, so when i was younger (maybe 10) i went to my room and there was blood on my bed, windows, chair, all that bullshit.
i didn't go to bed until i found out what it was, turns out my cat got a hook stuck in her tail, but that's not really the point.
i was still scared as fuck, but i managed to get to sleep, during which i had the most vivid dream of my life. i 'wake up' and my room is about five times as long as it really is with 5five times as many doors on one wall. i go do what i usually do when i wake up (take a piss) and i open the door only to see a tall, pale man in a black suit and top hat.
i 'wake up' from that dream and my room is the same. i thought i was out of it but the same shit happened.
when i really did wake up from the second one (at about 3 AM), i just hear howling laughter. i checked my bathroom to make sure it was real then wasnt able to sleep for the next week, and whenever i shut my eyes i saw the man in the suit.
i watched a news special where some other kid had pretty much the same dream as me, but he saw the guy while he was really awake, kind of like a hallucination.

While you're calling home to check your answering machine, someone picks up the other end. The voice sounds familiar and answers the phone with your name. After a short and angry conversation in which the person insists he is in fact the rightful tenant, you speed home in an attempt to catch the guy. When you get there, no one is there, but your phone starts ringing. You answer it with your name...

"Daddy, I had a bad dream."
You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it's 3:23.
"Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?"
"No, Daddy."
The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter's pale form in the darkness of your room. "Why not, sweetie?"
"Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy's skin sat up."
For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can't take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

No clue, i just remember it was a pale green truck with a white cab

Hey, mods, if you're out there, will you sticky this thread? This will be great to shut up all the newfags who are always requesting delicious pasta.

I went camping with some friends once, and we visited an old dried up lake basin at one point. There were no roads to it, only footpaths, and when we walked out onto the 'shore', all we could see were short bushes and cracked dirt. Then, we saw this burned out car chassis, half-buried in the center of the lake, as if it had sunk into mud which had later dried. A homeless guy crawled out of it and told us to go tell the park rangers that he needed a tow.

The next day we came back with rangers and the car was gone, with only a bare patch of cracked dirt where it had been.

>>441272
seconding.
got the one about the house and the black goo? wasn't pasta, but i didn't save the pages. and i think someone did a shitty pasta job.

>>440782

Ooooooooh...sleeeeping probleeeeemsssss

I'd trade my future for sleeping problems any day

>>441272

I second the sticky, and I hope someone will pick up where I left off when I run out. As of now I must take another break of 45-60 minutes.

i hate your breaks, OP!!!

>>441272

Seconding!

>>441157
Can I make a deal for the plane to not crash and everyone survives?

>>441224

Heinlein wrote this story, if anyone's curious.

>>441157
Biggy Smalls...Biggy Smalls Biggy Smalls

>>441280
Hey, OP. I'll post some of my best while you're taking your break.
--

You ever seen someone die on camera?

A snuff film is a recording of the actual murder of human being that is subsequently passed around for entertainment purposes. Suicides and accidents don't count. According to the MPAA, the FCC, the FBI and the ever-lovin' Snopes.com, there's no such thing as a snuff film. Yes, this includes Faces of Death Anything you think might count is faked, falsified, or not made for that purpose, such as those tasteless videos you find on shock sites.

This is a lie.

There are, as best as anyone can tell, between 30-40 snuff films floating around out there. The earliest is a silent film on decaying nitrate celluloid, simply titled La mort d'une fille, and bears the date of 1896.

>>441308
The latest, judging by the hairstyles and the presence of a "Frankie Says Relax" t-shirt, was probably made in 1983 or 1984 and is on Betamax.

The films vary in violence, but they all include seemingly ritualized sex, followed by the slaying of a girl with dirty blonde hair and piercing blue eyes who appears to be around 19 years old.

That's right...every film has the exact same girl in it.

Thread isn't bumping anymore. Anyone up for a new one? (Or will the mods sticky it for us?)

My name is Jack, and my fiancee went missing two years ago.
It was Valentine's, and I decorated the room with dim lightning, incense, candles, etc before she came home from out of state. She was so blissful that she decided to put on her old cheerleading outfit, which has been stored in the attic for years. The attic no lightning, and she had trouble fumbling around to find the box with the cloth. Then I heard her say "I need a candle, Jack! Its rea" I haven't seen he

no longer bumping, huh?

I'm back. OK, no sticky yet? Gah, better get back to posting more creepypasta.

Szomorú Vasárnap, or Gloomy Sunday in English, is a hit song written in 1933 by Hungarian composer Rezs? Seress. It's more commonly known as the Hungarian Suicide song because of hundreds (if not thousands) of suicides that had been inspired by listening to it. The song itself has been has been covered several times, most famously by Billie Holiday, and for the most part is considered an urban legend and a brilliant marketing campaign.

The version that reached radio waves, however, is not the version that was originally written. Rezs? Seress originally wrote the song in order to woo his girlfriend, who had recently left him. The song succeeded in bringing them back together for a short time, before she jumped from his apartment window. Rezs? had been out at the time. His girlfriend left a note for him--"Szomorú Vasárnap."

The song was changed before release. Rezs? Seress himself committed suicide in 1969, jumping out of his window in very much the same manner his girlfriend did.

The song can be found here:
http://youtube.com/watch?v=8Kkxbw3s2pM&feature=related

When I moved into my last set of student flats last year the house was an old victorian villa which had been converted. There were three floors and ours was on the ground. We had a massive basement that ran the whole length and bredth of the house that came with the flat. When we all first moved in we were a little short on space, being three girls living together with alot of clothes, so we decided to throw some of the boxes we had left over down in the basement until we needed them again. It turned out that even the basement had seperate rooms but it was what we found in the main one that freaked us all out.

There were five or so paintings all standing in a circle facing each other, still on their easles. They were really pretty handpainted pictures but if you looked closely they all had litle red paint flecks on them. When we asked our landlord Tommy he said he hadn't touched them incase they belonged to a previous tenant and they came back to claim them.

I am currently sitting in front of my computer, scared witless. Any moment now I am going to be killed.

Today a friend of mine told me a story.

His aunt had taken care of him since he was a small boy, and she told him last night about how his parents died. He did a very fair imitation of her (I knew them both pretty well):

"They were doing mission work in some nasty little south american country when a man burst into the mission hospital one night, terrified out of his mind. He told them that his sister had been killed by a Muerto blanco, and that he was certain that it was coming for him next. What is a Muerto blanco? Apparently it was some sort of bogey-man, something like that dumb chupacabra or whatever. They called it the White Death or the White Girl, because it was the soul of someone who hated life so much that they came back in their shrouds to kill those who told of them.

The man had been told about the vengeful spirit by his sister hours before her death. It was a girl with dead, black eyes that wept bile. The thing moved without ever actually moving its legs, and it stalked its victims back to their homes. Now, if you weren't already aware that this thing was following you, once it got back to your house, it would start knocking on your door...

Once for you bones, which she'll use to patch her own decaying flesh.

Twice for your muscle, which she'll gnash her teeth on between victimes.

Thrice for your bones, which she'll make knives to pick her teeth and kill her victimes.

Four times for your heart, which she'll wear around her neck.

Five times for your teeth, which she'll polish and keep in a box.

Six times for your eyes, which she'll see the faces of your loved ones through.

Seven times for your soul, which she'll eat whole - you can never pass while you're in her stomach.

She has to repeat this on any mirror or door between you and her.

(cont'd)

>>441409

You can try to outrun her, but she's faster than the fastest man. And if you leave your home while she's knocking on your door, she won't be so courteous when she catches up to you.

Now the man was certain that this thing had killed his sister, that he had tried to tell the police, but they would not listen. Next he had tried to tell his priest, but the priest turned him away when he saw that the thing was following him now - oh, that's right, I forgot about that - it can only get you if you tell someone else about it, or you saw it kill someone else. The man, after finishing his tale, stole a car from the mission, and was never seen again."

Apparently his mother and father had immediately called his aunt about this when it happened. They were found in the morning, skinned and dismembered. Their bodies were covered in tiny, child-like handprints."

His aunt was really drunk the night before, and had told him about that. He told me this story early in the morning today at school, before the cops arrived. His aunt had been murdered that night. I called him later that night, and he told me that he was being chased by someone, and now they were knocking on his door. I told him to stop shitting me.

He held the phone away from his face for a minute, and I could hear slow, deliberate knocking. A moment later, I heard the door rip from its hinges and the dying screams of my friend.

Then a little girl's voice spoke over the line: "WITNESS." I hung up.

Three minutes ago someone started knocking on my door. She has to knock 28 times on my front door, 28 times on the mirror in the hall, and another 28 times on the door to my bedroom. She's doing it slowly... I think she wants to scare me some more, let me know that my death is just moments away. I will not run - I couldn't get to my car in time anyway. She started knocking on my bedroom door a minute ago, she should be done any moment.

Nice knowing you guys, it's been fuy5
WITNESS

I am throwing in my vote for archiving this thread. I suggest anyone else present do the same.

Alas, I have but one more story...one that is not frightening, only a sad story of love posted on /b/ many moons ago. Would Anonymous like to hear the story of Rusty?

>>441413
As long as you remove your tripcode and name after this thread, yes.

>>441416

Of course, the tripcode's only temporary. I will go back to being part of the great Anonymous after this.

When I was six years old, my parents got a golden Labrador puppy. His name was Rusty. He was a tiny thing, and enjoyed biting the end of a blanket and being dangled in the air by it.

Soon he was too big for this, but he never stopped loving that blanket, so we let him have it, torn and disgustingly soaked with dog slobber as it was. He would lie in the kitchen and bite into it and sit there with his face buried in it.

Being a young boy, I was naturally pretty mean to him. I would tackle him, have playfights with him, steal his things. But not once did he ever bite me. He always forgave my behaviour and was desperately happy to see me again if I had been away. I did not give much thought to this at the time.

As I grew older, I went away to school. I thought Rusty would forget about me, but whenever I returned for holidays he would see me, run back to the kitchen and fetch his blanket and come up to me. He enjoyed playing tug of war with it.

One day I tugged too hard and ripped it a little. He stared at the blanket for a while, and took it away. After that he never played tug of war with me - he would simply let it go if I pulled - but he would always greet me with it in his mouth when I came home.

I continued to be mean to him, especially when watching TV. He made a very good pillow, so I would make him lie down in front of the TV and then lie back with my head resting on him. Patiently, sometimes for hours, he would lie there. If he tried to get up, I would firmly push him back down, and he would obediently lie down again.

I would only see him when I got home from school. However, like many /b/tards I tended to be a loner. I did not realise it at the time, but Rusty was my oldest and closest friend.

>>441441

He got older. Like many Labradors, he began suffering from arthritis in the joints of his rear legs. When I took him for walks, he found it harder and harder to go as far as he used to. He stopped running.

One day I took him for a walk, and he collapsed. I carried him home in my arms.

I was 18 by now. My parents took him to the vet, but all he said was that nothing could really be done: Rusty was just old.

For another two years, Rusty became quieter and sleepier. He would limp when he walked, and it was painful for him to lie down on hard floors. There was a sofa in front of the TV, and though my parents had forbade Rusty from lying on it (because of shedding), he would limp out of the kitchen with the blanket in his mouth, and because he could no longer jump up on the sofa, I would help him up onto it, supporting his rear legs. He would then lie on the sofa with his head in my lap where I could stroke it, and that filthy torn blanket in his mouth, lying over my legs. I never minded.

My parents knew that Rusty was too old now. I was 20, so I should have known it too. But I refused to even discuss the possibility of putting him to sleep.

I took him on walks, but this simply consisted of going outside the house a few yards so he could relieve himself. His back legs were so bad from arthritis that he would collapse into his own shit as he tried to go. It was funny, in a grim way.

So I bent beside him, and held him up as he went, holding his haunches. It was disgusting. It was sickening.

I never minded.

>>441445

One day he started yelping and whining with every limping step he took. My parents took me to the vet. He told me that Rusty was living in constant pain, and to keep him like this was cruelty.

The day we took him to the vet was bright and sunny. I hated God, the world and everyone in it for that.

My mother went inside to arrange things. I was left outside with Rusty (I also think they left me out there to let me say my goodbyes in private).

Near the vet, someone had left a poodle tied to a fence. It was extremely strange, as the owner didn't seem to be anywhere in sight. The poodle was female.

Rusty had never been with other dogs. We had no other pets, and the limit of his experience was meeting other dogs during walks. Now he was suddenly interested in this female poodle.

A lot of feelings went through me at that moment. A kind of grim humour at what was going on. A guilty feeling of mischief. And a sadness for my best friend who had never known what it was like to have sex.

All very shallow I think you'll agree.

>>441449

So when, amazingly, Rusty got up, tremblingly, desperately, holding himself up, trying to maintain his pride and dignity and walking without a sound towards the poodle, I did nothing but turned half-away, to make it seem I hadn't noticed.

Rusty managed to get across to the poodle. To my utter astonishment, she didn't seem to be put off by him. She turned around.

I told myself that however fucked up this might be for the poodle's owner, that meant nothing beside the possibility of there being more little Rustys in the world.

Rusty lifted his front legs to mount her. His back legs went out from under him, and he collapsed. His bladder lost control and started spewing piss all over the pavement. The poodle moved away, looking more confused than disgusted.

Rusty simply lay there, silent, looking around helplessly as his bladder emptied itself. Some of it was soaking into his fur.

There was something blackly hilarious about the whole moment.

I didn't laugh.

>>441454

I walked over to Rusty, put my arms around him and hugged him, and helped him get up. I whispered that I loved him.

I helped him away, and did my best to get the worst of the piss out of his fur.

Eventually, my mother came out and called us inside.

I had to help Rusty into the vet's. We went into a small clinical room, past a bunch of people waiting with their pets, who just watched curiously as a 20 year old man helped an old golden Labrador walk in, holding up his haunches. I don't know if they could smell the piss.

I had to lift him up onto the cold steel table, under the bright lights. There were three people there, the vet, two assistants. My mother watched from the door. I stroked Rusty's head. He never liked going to the vet.

The vet said to me, "You should go."

Without thinking I turned and walked out the door. Once I was outside, I turned. The door was closing. But just before it closed, I saw him.

He had lifted his head, and was looking towards me. I know he was just a dog, so I know he wasn't thinking about death.

What I saw in his face was: "I'm kind of scared. This place is weird. These people are strange. I need reassurance. But you brought me here, so I guess it's okay."

The door closed. I had seen him alive for the last time.

>>441456

I walked out of the vet's, feeling numb. My mother was crying, and she went to the car.

I kept walking without saying a word.

I walked down street after street until I didn't know where I was.

And then it hit me. The full force of it. The naked fucking monstrousness of it.

I had just left my childhood friend to die alone, afraid and uncertain, in a room full of strangers.

I doubled over, feeling nauseous. I slumped against a wall and slowly slid down it. And the tears came. Tears of self-loathing, of wanting more than anything else in the world to go back and change what I had just done. To do it differently.

My mother found me half an hour later, still crumpled up in the doorway, crying.

She took me home.

That was 11 years ago. I have never had another pet since then. I have come to /b/ and I relish the heartless brutality, the celebration of callousness, the utter cruelty of Anonymous.

But sometimes, I sit and look down at a filthy torn old blanket in my hands.
....The End

>>441437
I appreciate it. I really do. Too many tripfags exist around on these boards already.
>>441459
That was really an awesome end to this thread. It was just perfect for the end.

>>441460

Thanks. And now I disappear into the nameless realm. The mods aren't stickying this, it ain't bumping, and I have made the only vote for archiving, but hopefully this will be here when I get back.

>>441031

how do i vote to archive this?

>>441528

you have to go to "request interface" on the 4chan archive site.

>>441207


http://www.thewatcherfiles.com/denver.html

Best thread ever.

You sir, are a god among men. I think the archival process was triggered, so I guess that's about it for this thread. Thank you for a good night's entertainment.

>>441177
that was my whole point for posting...i love her and i don't want to be replaced

best /x/ thread ever