The bed was empty.

>>486030
not bad

And then I rape it.

stop fuckin raping everything you see fss

There are stories about a certain kind of hitchhiker - they only ever appear at night on quiet roads, seeming to flicker into existence in the very edge of headlights, never carrying a sign, always with an expression of deep despondency on their faces, swathed in a heavy coat and long pants, usually with gloves. If you stop, they will seem cordial enough, polite, but hardly chatty. They will assure you that the next town or city along your route will be a fine spot to leave them. Normal enough. Unless you try killing them.

They die easily enough. But look underneath their clothes, and you will see that their skin is marred with lines of scars, forming repeating patterns that are unsettling to look at, and even more unsettling in the context of their skin. They have no wallets, no identification. If you slice their belly open, however, they're different inside. There's no blood, no muscle, only a hollow cavity containing a single object. The object varies. Examples include a single coin, heavy and golden and engraved with runes nobody could ever decipher. A diamond gem with fractal edges that slice bare flesh to ribbons. A small vase, quite unbreakable, that smells of the ocean and is always damp...

Once you possess a hitchhiker's object, you'll find yourself always driving the quiet roads at night. You'll never mean to, but somehow, you just will. The lure of possessing a second one will hum quietly in your head. You'll strain to catch sight of a figure appearing in your headlights, try to resist the impulse to stop, and sometimes you might. But sometimes you won't. You'll try telling yourself that this is just a normal person on an adventure, someone who ran out of petrol. The logical part of your brain will scream at what you're doing. You'll smile and nod and they'll get into the car and you'll slowly, casually, reach under the seat or across to the glove box...

In any city, in any country, go to any mental instituion or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of the End". Should a look of child-like fear come over the workers face, you will then be taken to a cell in the building. It will be in a deep hidden section of the building. All you will hear is the sound of someone talking to themselves echo the halls. It is in a language that you will not understand, but your very soul will feel unspeakable fear.

Should the talking stop at any time, STOP and QUICKLY say aloud "I'm just passing through, I wish to talk." If you still hear silence, flee. Leave, do not stop for anything, do not go home, don't stay at an inn, just keep moving, sleep where your body drops. You will know in the morning if you've escaped.

If the voice in the hall comes back after you utter those words continue on. Upon reaching the cell all you will see is a windowless room with a person in the corner, speaking an unknown language, and cradling something. The person will only respond to one question. What happens when they all come together?

The person will then stare into your eyes and answer your question in horrifiying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, a few end their lives. But most do the worst thing and look upon the object in the person's hands. You will want to as well. Be warned, if you do your death will be that of cruelity and unrelenting horror.

Your death will be in that room, by that person's hands.

This object is 1 of 538. They must never come together. Never.

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 illegibly 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, birthdate, 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 if you sign it.

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, that 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.

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 an infant with no flesh and 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 occured within your life. His voice will sound like the rubbing of sandpaper and will be devoid of all human emotion. For each question that you answer incorrectly, one of your five senses will be consumed and lost to you forever. 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 with their flesh removed and their eyes missing.

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.

There is an old hotel that has been around for hundreds of years. If anyone was to find themselves staying in Room 6 you would find yourself in an unknown place, where exactly at 12:16 AM the power will go out and you'll find yourself in utter darkness. If you chose to stay awake nothing will happen. But if you so much as close your eyes and fall asleep you will find yourself in an unimaginable pit of despair, where creatures of fathomless shapes and sizes roam. You will be trapped here for hours, until the sun comes up. It is rumored that this room is a gate into hell, and demons use the condensed evil of the room to escape into our reality through our minds. Those who have stayed in there rarely speak of it, for even recalling the night will put them in an uncontrollable frenzy.

In almost every building, there is one corner, one small enclosure that no one ever looks at. It's the corner in the basement that has been blocked by a disused sofa for years; the thin space in the attic between the wall and the stacks and stacks of crates full of junk you never use, but could never throw away. The space that never sees the light of day, or any other kind of light at all. Where darkness does not merely dominate, but practically oozes out from around the edges of its prison.

No one knows quite how long a space must remain concealed for it to acquire this particular property, nor if there are any specific conditions it must meet. But it is a far more common occurrence than you might think.

In newer buildings, when this happens, the residents often report feeling cold when passing by, even in attics during the hottest of summers. Whenever contemplating taking a quick peek to see if there is anything actually there, an unnatural dread seizes them, and they leave the room quickly, if not quite running. Once left behind, the feeling passes, and it is quickly forgotten, or laughed off.

What actually happens in these forgotten sanctuaries of the dark? It is impossible to tell. For while many such corners have been exposed to reveal absolutely nothing, some brave souls have lost their sanity through nothing more than an ill-timed glance. The safest thing to do when encountered with such a phenomenon; close your eyes, rip away the area's covering in a single motion, then keep a tight hold on what you've pulled away. No matter what you hear or feel, do not get up, do not look around, and do not try to cover your ears. You might be one of the lucky ones.

The next time you're alone in your room, turn down the lights. Think of something on your body that varies in length, such as hair. It must be clearly viewable from your perspective. Grab a ruler and, looking in the mirror, quickly grab a hair at random; you must confuse it. Hold it in position as best you can and note the length. Look down. Yours will be different.

Don't look back up.

Don't turn your back to that mirror ever again.

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...

Remember this -

Should you ever despair of life so much that you want to die, you have the means at hand and yearn to end your life, you have written a suicide note to those you will leave behind and you are prepared to die....at that moment, stop.

Get a pair of scissors. Cut away at the note until you end up with a piece of paper in the shape of a key. Go to a door, any one will do. Push the paper key forward and turn your hand as if unlocking an imaginary lock.

The lock is real. Open the door. There you will find it. The other earth. The one that awaits to replace this one when it dies. That death is inevitable, but in the meantime the other earth will belong to you.

Be warned: the other earth is very different from this one.

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."

On your 33rd birthday, go to your local gas station and pick up the newspaper. The classified ads will have a small segment commemorating your birth and asking you to turn around. Upon looking behind you, a man dressed in a black cloak will be advancing in your direction. If you choose to run away, he will hunt you for the rest of your life, eventually killing you. However, if you await his arrival and show no intent of fleeing, he will give you a small package. Inside, you shall find the object you most desire.

A man saw a ferrari at a used-car sale and asked for the price of the car. The salesman lit up with a smile and said he'd give it to the man for $500 dollars. The man bought the car instantly on the spot after hearing the ridiculously cheap deal.

The man had the car for months now, but on a cold, winter day as he got into the driver's seat he was startled to see someone in the rear-view mirror. He quickly turned around and saw nothing in the empty seat and quickly shrugged it off thinking he must have imagined it.

As the cold days went by, the car doors started to lock up on him, the engine would stall, and he would hear sounds of something hitting in the back. The man started getting anxious about this bad omen. That horror soon showed itself as he was driving to the airport to pick up his relatives. He looked up and saw 3 bloody bodies in the rear-view mirror staring at him. He screamed and realized that this car is really haunted and fled from the car.

Later he heard the story of the car from the salesman. The police found the car 2 years ago abandoned in an empty airport parking stall where 2 dead bodies were found in the the back seat and another one found in the trunk.

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 make 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 anniversiary of the spot's 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, dont ever turn your back on that spot again. That is if you can still tell where it is.

Have you ever heard the expression "an apple a day keeps the Doctor away?" Most assume, with no reason to think otherwise, that it is simply an easy-to-remember rhyme that stresses the importance of eating healthily to young children. But the saying did not originate as a harmless reminder. It was born in a frontier town in the early years of the gold rush, where food was scarce and money even scarcer.

One August, when a bad drought had struck the region, a series of bloody killings swept through the town. Every night, a single house would be broken into, and anyone who saw the invader would be swiftly, brutally slain. Nothing was ever stolen, save for a few scraps of food.

After two weeks of this, the local grocer set out a few apples and a glass of milk in the town square overnight. He then hid in the tower of the church, hoping to catch a glimpse of anyone who came by.

Fighting fatigue, the grocer waited for any sign of life below. Just after midnight, he was rewarded by a chilling sight; a man, carrying a black bag stuffed with dully shining metal tools and covered from head to foot in cloth bandages, staggered into view. He paused at the sight of the apples and milk, then whipped his head around, as if looking for the one who dared to patronize him. Seized with fear, the grocer ducked out of sight, staying hidden 'til sunrise.

The strange man had only taken one of the apples, and didn't even touch the glass of milk. No houses were broken into, and no one was killed. For decades, the town continued to place out an apple or two every night, even long after a single apple stopped dissapearing.

An odd occurance has been rumored to happen in a certain pub at night in southwest Germany. If you sit in the stool farthest from the door while one beside it is empty, order a round for yourself and offer to "buy one for the Baron". The bartender will without question or expression will pour 2 beers from tap. He'll place one beside you and the moment the other one hits the table the room will go dark and silent, save for the sound of footsteps as a man in uniform sits beside you.

It is believed that it is indeed Captain Manfred von Richthofen, although no one is sure because they can barely see their own glass, much less the person's face. No one who's told this story has had the nerve you touch him or risk insult, and the figure does not say a word. But apparently if you were to ask him "So sir, what's the condition at the front?" he would tell you startling details about the region's future and sometimes how they connect to the world as a whole.


Those who lived long enough after the fact claim that these events took place the exact about of years from the date they asked as from the date Baron von Richthofen died in battle. Yet this cannot be confirmed, because every time the figure has been asked the question after 1964 he's only replied with a cold laugh.

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.

If you ever find yourself in LA's Old China town, head into the square, past the statue of sun Yat-sen, past the hip-ultramod toy store called "Munky King" and look for an import store next to what used to be a wishing fountain. Go into this store ad head all the way straight back, you'll see a selection of weapons, Look for a weapon called a Jiujiebian, a sort of multi-sectioned whip. it MUST have exactly nine segments, no more, no less. This will be called the "chain of night" as of now, there are 48 notches in it's handle. It will cost you 29.95. Then after that, go outside and wait till dark, as the moon rises, take a quarter from your pocket and cast it at the wishing well. as it lands focus on that spot exactly and slowly chant under your breath: "by the circles of lao-tzu, the void inside of matter, I call forth the spirit that lingers here!" this phrase is best said in the origional mandarin, but the spirit will understand a sincere supplicant regardless of language. A girl will step out of the bottom of the fountain, about nine years of age. She will ask you: "Where has my mother gone?" you must respond with: "She has long since gone from earth, but look to the sky, and see her there!"

this spirit is not that of a little girl, but of a bog-hag, cursed to obey this one command regardless of who says it. At this moment, you must attempt to strike the girl with your Newly Acquired Jiujiebian. SHE will then snarl and attempt to fight back. Should you win, all the money ever thrown into the fountain will await you. If you fail, all that the folks in chinatown know is that a bloody Jiujiebian lies at the door of the import store with a notch in it's handle. To date, there are 48 notches in the handle.

>>486030

/r/ sauce of OP's pic

>>486119
Looks like Junji Ito

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.

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.

A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed. In other words, those aliens and creatures you see at night in your "dreams?" They're real.

Somewhere in the world, there is a collection of books. Perhaps it's in a dusty, unpainted shelf in the back corner of someone's attic, perhaps it's in a set of musty boxes in the basement of some tiny, obscure library. It contains a few hundred volumes, all handwritten, ranging from leatherbound volumes with yellowing pages two hundred years old through to modern spiral-bound notebooks. All of them are diaries, some by famous people, some by not-so famous people, but all by the most horrific madmen and murderers the world has ever known. And the collection is growing. For if you ever find it, you will hear a faint scratching sound, coming from the newest volume of the set. This volume will be new, and filled with blank pages, except for the first. On this first page, you will find the beginning of your own diary, written in your own hand.

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.

Go to any high traffic bathroom. It must be a high traffic bathroom; otherwise the room won’t have enough latent residual energy to carry out the task. A hotel bathroom is perfect. Make sure it's after 12pm, and make sure you have 2 clove cigarettes. The stronger the cigarette, the higher your success rate. Sit in the dark and begin smoking one of the cigarettes. Make sure there is a mirror present, and that you look at your reflection at all times. The burning cherry should provide just enough light for this. When you’ve smoked the cigarette within a 1/4 in of the filter, the room should be full of smoke. Your eyes will no doubt be watering, but don’t blink. Don’t take your eyes off of the mirror or your reflection whatever you do. To blink will make all you’ve done at this point for naught. You’ll begin to notice that your reflection will begin to fade into black. The reflection of the cherry from your cigarette will begin to separate into two red eyes. The smoke in the room will begin to condense, and before you even realize it’s happened, a shade will be sitting on the ledge of the sink. He’ll ask you for a cigarette, which is why you’re instructed to bring two. Give the shade a cigarette, which will light itself once he brings it to his withered lips. At this point, you can ask the shade any question you want, and he'll answer true. You can ask who shot JFK, who was Jack the Ripper. Anything you could possibly think of. Be sure to keep an eye on how much of the cigarette he’s smoked. When it gets to the point where it will only take a few more hits to kill it, the smoke from the other cigarette will begin to define more of his features, making him more material than ethereal. At this point, stand up and snatch out his eyes in one sweeping motion. He should still be mostly smoke, so your hands should pass easily through his head. If you let him finish the cigarette he WILL attack you, almost surely taking your life in the process.

The shade will begin screaming and cursing you and the hand holding his eyes will be burning intensely. DO NOT OPEN YOUR HAND! Even though the eyes are disembodied, they can see if they are out in the open. Run to the light switch and flip it on. This will banish the shades physical form and send him back into the ether. Leave the room and wait until 3:00 am to open your hand. The burning will be unbearable until then, but to do so will blow all the lights out in your house, allowing the shade to return and seek vengeance. You will have 4 burn marks on your palm when you open it. All cauterized of course, and mostly healed. From then on you can never be in a dark room with a mirror, because the shade will be able to track you through the burns in your hand. He'll have black hell dogs now, given his loss of sight, and they are far more terrible than the shade could ever be. The number of hell dogs depends on the strength of the shade you made contact with. After this, you’ll always be cold, no matter how warm it is, and you’ll be given the ability to perform minor miracles. Your dreams will always be nightmares, but in them, you will be granted a kind of third sight. You’ll never be able to see anything good, only the most horrific future events. And these events will only be known to you at a point where you can’t do anything to stop them. A small price to pay for absolute knowledge.

Open your closet, don't turn on the light. Make sure you have one match with you. Step inside and close the door. If the lights are on outside of the closet this will not work. Nor will it work if it is daylight. The only room you need is enough for slight mobility.

Stand in the darkness for about two minutes, since that's all that's needed. Now, take the match and hold it in front of you and say, "Show me the light or leave me in darkness." If you begin hearing whispers light the match immediately. If you don't hear anything, and the match doesn't ignite on it's own then don't turn around. If you light the match too late or not at all after hearing whispers, something will grab you from behind and pull you into what seems like a forever fall into darkness.

If you do manage to light the match in time and nothing happens after, open the door slowly and get out, then close the door but do NOT look inside. From then on, never look inside your closet without the light on at all. Some say if you leave your closet open during the night you can see the demon watching you with two red eyes that glow like matches.

I live in the UK. A colleague at work heard this from her boyfriend. He works with someone who said that his sister's friend got the last tube (subway train) home a couple of weeks ago. When she got on there were 5 rows of seats empty but the last row had three people sitting in them. As she was a little afraid, she went and sat opposite these people. She settled down and looked up to see the woman sitting opposite her really staring at her. So she got out her book and started to read but every time she looked up the woman was still staring. The train pulled into the next station and a man got on. He looked up and down the carriage, took a look at her and the people opposite her and came and sat next to her. As the train left the station the man leaned back and said quietly in her ear "If you know what's good for you, you'll get off at the next station with me". She was scared but thought the best idea would be to get off at the next station as he asked as there might be people around. The next stop comes up and she leaves the train with this man. The man says "Thank God, I didn't mean to scare you but I had to get you off that train. I'm a doctor and the woman sitting opposite you was dead and the two men either side were propping her up". According to the guy who told this story, the girl and the doctor called the police who stopped the train at the next station.

A young couple has just been married at a large family wedding. The reception is held at the bride's grandmother's house. After they have had dinner and cake and such they all decide to play hide and go seek, which has been a tradition in the bride's family for quite some time. The bride, knowing the house, decides to hide in the attic in a large chest, but when she climbs in she slips and the lid to it comes crashing down. It knocks her out and she is now locked, unconcious, in the chest.

Meanwhile the rest of the family is searching for her and is starting to get worried. After hours of calling for her and searching the house they call the police, who are also unable to find the missing bride. The bride eventually wakes up but is unable to get out so starves to death.

Years later the bride's younger sister is married and when she turns to hide in the very same chest she is horrified to find her sister's remains rotted away in her wedding dress, now covered in blood from her frantically trying to claw her way out.

Go into you bathroom late at night. Try lighting some candles in front of the mirror to form a pentagram. Get some lipstick or other marking substance that is red, and draw the pentagram, candles acting as vertexes. Now pray your hardest to Satan that your soul will be destroyed, and no light will reach you for the rest of your life. A phrase will be spoken to you in a hellish voice that resembles hissing. A loud crash will be heard, DO NOT LOOK IN THE MIRROR. After the crash is finished, quietly count from one to twenty. Do not make any noises or sudden movements. Now say the name of somebody you dislike six times. A year from the summoning, they will die a horrible death, with a long object (pole, spear, etc.) impaled through the right side of the chest, where the heart would be if it was on the right side.

I suggest you don't touch a bible for a week after this.

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

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

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

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

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?"

If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique, everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. This ringing sound actually serves a more arcane purpose, covering up a noise we are not meant to hear. This noise is not impossible to hear, and if you are persistent you can effectively "break" the cover-up sound. The next time you are silent and hear the ringing, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then be abruptly silent. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might pick up soft murmuring. A special few auditory heroes might clearly make it out on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds into the future.

As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Such an ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no? You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch this ability entails. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again. Of course this isn't the case, though, its a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, it's simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, where there is a voice, there is a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.

Somewhere in NYC there is an old homeless man missing both his legs from the knees down, whose spot along the streets is the corner of Lexington and East 21st, near Granmercy Park. Approach him after nightfall, give him some change (NO pennies, NO dimes) and ask him, "What did you see on the other side?" He will then tell you all about his travels to other realms and times, where he lost his legs, how he lost his money. It is up to you whether to believe him or not, but as you listen you'll find yourself being drawn in with every story. You must stay alert, or the old man will notice your inattentiveness, and with a scowl he will stop imparting his wisdom; he will chase you as fast as he can, tottering on his stubs. The other reason why you must stay alert is to check the time. Before midnight you must interrupt him (do NOT let him finish whatever story he's telling you at the moment) and say "I've heard enough, old man. Good day and good luck", then walk away. Make at least two left-hand turns around the block before going about your business. You must do this, because anyone who has stayed to listen past midnight is never seen again, at least not in this particular plane of existence.

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

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

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

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

A man went to a hotel and walked up to the front desk to check in. The woman at the desk gave him his key and told him that on the way to his room, there was a door with no number that was locked and no one was allowed in there. Especially no one should look inside the room, under any circumstances. So he followed the instructions of the woman at the front desk, going straight to his room, and going to bed. The next night his curiosity would not leave him alone about the room with no number on the door. He walked down the hall to the door and tried the handle. Sure enough it was locked. He bent down and looked through the wide keyhole. Cold air passed through it, chilling his eye. What he saw was a hotel bedroom, like his, and in the corner was a woman whose skin was completely white. She was leaning her head against the wall, facing away from the door. He stared in confusion for a while. He almost knocked on the door, out of curiosity, but decided not to. This disinclination saved his life. He crept away from the door and walked back to his room. The next day, he returned to the door and looked through the wide keyhole. This time, all he saw was redness. He couldn’t make anything out besides a distinct red color, unmoving. Perhaps the inhabitants of the room knew he was spying the night before, and had blocked the keyhole with something red.

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

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".

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 boy got free and ran around the corner. The mother tried to find him, but he was missing. 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 Mexican 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 the 45 minutes he was missing, he had been cut open, all of his organs removed, and stuffed with bags of cocaine. The man was going to carry him across the border as if he were asleep.

It's early morning. The sun won't be up for another couple of hours. You're fast asleep in bed, lost in a dream, when the phone rings. Rather than waking up, you roll over and cover your head with a pillow. Hours pass. The sun rises.

The phone is ringing.

When you wake up, your alarm clock is blaring and the phone is ringing. By the time you will yourself to turn the alarm off, the phone has stopped ringing. You realize that it's been ringing all morning. You slide out of bed and press the blinking red button on your phone as you stumble into the bathroom. The phone beeps, followed by the friendly, electronic voice.

Hello. You have six hundred and sixty-six new messages. Message one. The phone beeps again, and you're not prepared for what comes next.

Screaming.

You spin around, thinking that she's standing right behind you. There's pure terror in her screams, accompanied by other disturbing noises. You stand there, horrified, for about ten seconds. Screaming gives way to hysterical, garbled crying before dying out with the sounds of spilling meat and tearing flesh.

The phone beeps again. You're shaking.

Message two.

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.”

If you are watching television, and the signal cuts out to static, turn the TV off immediately. If you watch the static on TV for long enough, the static will suddenly pause. All sound in the room will cease; even the white noise of the TV itself will disappear. If this happens you must not look away from the screen. You will probably not notice at the time, before you lose your gaze on the TV, your body will freeze as well. Time around and with you have paused completely. Specks of the black and white dots slowly come to life, creeping slowly in seemingly random directions. Not static as you know it, but organizing themselves into a moving picture again in front of you. As the static returns to normal, and the white noise of the TV comes back, you will regain control of your body. You must never watch that television again. It will only play static, even when unplugged. If you watch the static any longer, these same events will reoccur, but with disastrous results. What exactly happens is unknown, as it is obvious that anyone that has been unfortunate enough to experience this has disappeared. It is rumoured that if one continues to watch the static again, or during their experience, looks away, the white and black specs will slowly start to move again, but you will not. Your eyes will then be permanently fixated on the screen as you watch the picture come back to life, and what seems to be your station's signal return. You learn soon this is not the case, as all sound is still absent, and the picture on the TV shows a familiar surrounding: the room in which you sit. The only thing you see next is movement on the TV, as you see yourself from behind, and subsequently, the cause of your disappearance.

In Gjoberdik, a small fisherman's village in the country of Bulgaria, on the dawn of January the first everyone closes their curtains and hold their breath for half a minute. Hours after the craze of midnight's celebrations, children look questioning at their worried parents, but can not help to shiver in the embrace of their shaking parents.

One can hear the sound of bells being struck exactly 25 times last year, in this short timespan. The nearest church however, is over 32 miles away. You will find no one out on the streets in these faithful 30 seconds, and even the birds will stop whistling.

Some have gone out of their houses, roaring boldly in disbelief of this century old tradition. On the first sunset of this year, two people gambled their fate in the very first rays of sunlight.

The next dawn, the bells will be struck 27 times.

You wake up one morning to find a note taped to your mirror: "Don't worry, I took care of everything." Your clothes have been freshly laundered, the bathroom is spotless, and your garage has been organized. Even your faithful old toolbox has been replaced.

Later that week, there's another note on your mirror: "GET OUT OF TOWN." Paper-clipped to this message are several grainy photos of police in a taped-off section of a field. One of them is carrying your old toolbox in his latex-gloved hand.

You come into possession of an old box. Inside are several glass vials filled with dirt, dust and tiny bits of gravel or cement. The vials are labeled with places and dates such as "Port Chicago 7/17/44", "Halifax 7/6/17" and "Guernica 7/17/36". A trip to the library confirms that all are dates of massive loss of life in explosions. A few days later a package arrives with no return address.

Inside is an empty vial labeled with your home town and next week's date.

Have you ever gotten a glimpse of something out of the corner of your eye? A simple movement caught in your peripheral vision. Most will simply dismiss this as a shadow brought about by a flickering candle, or perhaps a pet jumping down from a piece of furniture. Ninety-nine out of a hundred times, these people are right.

But then there's that one elusive sight. It can easily be explained by the above conditions, but something feels wrong about it. A chill down your spine, a slight pain in your side. Maybe even a complete blanking of your mind, only to recede moments later.

Should any of these symptoms be felt, there may be cause for worry. Our peripheral vision is designed to catch motion, even in the dark. This was used to defend against predators in our early days, and as with many aspects of our human nature, it has remained, but weakened.

This view out of the corner of our eyes still alerts us to danger, and although predators have dropped on the list of dangers we may face today, they still exist. Should you ever feel that queer chill in your back, try not to focus on that shadow you saw in the corner of your eye. It might be better not to see.

You get a phone call from your Mother. Since her car has been in the shop, she asks you to go to the grocery store and pick up a few odds and ends for her. Bread, milk, cereal, and chicken breasts.

After writing down a small list you reluctantly get in the car and pick up the items at the store. The lady cashier makes an odd remark to you, "You know, we're in no danger of a milk shortage." Upon arriving at her house you knock several times. No answer. You decide to try the door. It opens. You place the grocery bag on the counter. Strange. There seems to be six other grocery bags, each with identical contents. In a couple, the chicken and the milk has gone bad. "Mom," you call out, but no answer. You make your way thru the kitchen and into the living room. Sitting on the couch, with her head cut off and neatly resting on her lap, is your Mother.

Naturally you call the police who come over to investigate. They mention that she has been dead for nearly a week. Furthermore, the police psychiatrist is at the scene and talks to you after you give your initial statement. Sitting on the front steps, you overhear the psychiatrist talking with the crime scene investigator. "It's not uncommon for people suffering from schizophrenia to get locked into a series of repetitive behaviors," he says.

You think to yourself, "They can't be talking about me. Schizophrenia? Nah. Repetitive behavior? Do they think I did this?" Suddenly your cell phone goes off. "Hello?"

"Hi hun, it's me. Could you stop at the store and pick up some chicken and milk. Ohh, and I need some bread and cereal too."

"No problem Mom. I'll be right over..."

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.

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 suprised 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.

It might happen one morning that you wake up home alone. This could be normal depending on your situation, but this morning will be different. While your environment will all seem exactly the same, you’ll notice that everything is quieter than normal. If you go outside, you will notice a distinct lack of anything like birds, insects… or people. As far as you travel, you will not encounter another sentient human being. The entire world will be intact, but empty except for yourself.

There are currently over 100,000 missing persons cases in the United States. Some are just normal cases of murder or kidnappings, but in others, the disappearance cannot be explained and no remains of the person are ever located.

The 666th frame of every Halloween-themed movie, cartoon, or TV special depicts a basement with a corpse moldering in the corner; these frames are often removed from the final film, but one can find them on occasion. If you were to put the frames together, in chronological order of the release of the film it comes from, a short film is revealed. The film depicts the corpse's violent death in reverse. The final frame will be a picture of yourself, sitting before your tv, viewing the final frame of the film.

You're at work alone, when you suddenly hear the copy machine start up. You walk out to take a look at what's going on and see several copies filling the tray. Picking up one of the pieces of paper you discover that it is a copy of a picture depicting you sitting in your office chair, dead, with your eyes torn out and your throat cut. The others are the same picture, but taken from increasingly bizarre angles.

There is no original picture in the copy machine. In fact, the machine has been out of toner for a week.

You are home alone, and you hear on the news about the profile of a murderer who is on the loose. You look out the sliding glass doors to your backyard, and you notice a man standing out in the snow. He fits the profile of the murderer exactly, and he is smiling at you. You gulp, picking up the phone to your right and dialing 911. You look back out the glass as you press the phone to your ear, and notice he is much closer to you now. You then drop the phone in shock.

There are no footprints in the snow. It's his reflection.

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.

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."

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.

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.

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.

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.

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 forty-eight hours after watching the tape. They all met their demise in unrealistic places such as the pool or ice rink.

There is a demon of great evil, that will be able to walk upon the Earth if someone is told of its existence and does not repeat the name to another. To the best of my ability, his name roughly approximates "Jkqxxllyuo".

This was told to me by a rather unkempt man on the street; if you have not noticed it already, I just told it to you.
3 in 5 people will, at some point in their life, wake up in an alley with no recollection of how they got there.

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.

A secret society meets once every three years at a small diner in West Virgnia.
To join, you must come to the American Grill diner located in Cricket at 9:30 PM on September the twenty-first. The only uniform is a heavy overcoat and a green tie.
Order an "Eggs and bacon platter with coffee." The waiter will tell you that the breakfast menu is unavailable, reply, "Well, just the coffee then." You'll be allowed to stay after closing time for the meet.

The meeting itself is a meeting of minds and philosophy regarding immortality. The society is called "The Socratic Method." They hoist their mugs at the beginning and end of the meeting and say "Death to Socrates."
It's rumored a little hemlock is added to the first cup, and an antidote to the last.
Problem is... there is no antidote to hemlock.

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 nothing 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...

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.

nside the Amigara fault line, there are hundreds of human-shaped tunnels that were revealed by an earthquake. If you can find one that is shaped like your outline… DRR DRR DRR

If you go to Montpelier, North Dakota, you will find a small school. If you go into the school, and then proceed to the basement, you'll find yourself in a boiler room. Go into the boiler room, and you'll see blood spattered on the walls. On closer inspection, the blood forms a pattern... Words. Before you can read the blood, the lights turn off. You try to leave, but the door has slammed shut and is locked. It is said that fifty years ago, some punk kids locked the janitor in the boiler room while it was malfunctioning, exploded, and killed the janitor and the children. The spirit of the janitor now haunts the school, and lures children into the boiler room where he murders them in an act of revenge.

In Colombia (South America), in the city of Bogotá there is a small neighborhood called Timiza in the Kennedy district. In there, there is an apartment complex called Tonoli. In apartment 302 in building 4 there is a hole in the three bedroom doors. Inside each door you can find the fingers of dead children.


All mirrors are actually windows to another world.
This world cannot be reached, and shouldn't be reached, as all our mirror-selves are extremely malicious.
Try watching the edge of the mirror after sneaking into a room.
If you're good enough, you can see your reflection, pressing against the glass.

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.

>>486119
Fuan no Tane

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 8, I stayed up late at night watching television. My mother always told me never to turn on the television exactly at 4:44 am. If you ever did, you would hear clicks and heavy breathing in the next room; If you do check, a black shadow with red eyes will glare at 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 nder 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.

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.

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.

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. Tthe 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.

At 12:17 am, on any given night, arises the opportunity to awaken an alternate soul. The most common way of viewing them? Through a mirror.

It is through said medium that the process must take place. Begin at exactly midnight. By no light but that of a single candle, stand before the selected mirror. For ten minutes you must concentrate in silence, focused entirely on your reflection. Do not look away from the eyes; for it will be interpreted as weakness and you will be overcome.

After ten minutes have passed you must draw blood to smear in a line across the eyes of your reflection. Doing so will blind it, and you will watch as your own features begin to warp. Slowly, gradually, they will mutate into a frightening creature--one beyond the comprehension of those who have not experienced it. You must not look away through the entirety of the change.

Soon the writhing movements of the image will cease. By now an echoing, inhuman sound will resound all around you--the creature will begin to ease toward the mirror's glass. You must keep watching as it approaches.

If you do not extinguish the candle at exactly 12:17, the creature will escape.

Be warned, should you succeed; through any polished surface--be it mirror, wood, or window--your reflection will always be watching.

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.


The next time you're alone in your room, turn down the lights. Think of something on your body that varies in length, such as hair. It must be clearly viewable from your perspective. Grab a ruler and, looking in the mirror, quickly grab a hair at random; you must confuse it. Hold it in position as best you can and note the length. Look down. Yours will be different.

Don't look back up.

Don't turn your back to that mirror ever again.

The next time you wake up groggy and tired, don't move. Take a glance at your mirror; if you're lucky, you might catch a smile.

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.'

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.


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.


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.

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 absolve" 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.

In Berlin, after World War II, money was short, supplies were tight, and it seemed like everyone was hungry. At that time, people were telling the tale of a young woman who saw a blind man picking his way through a crowd. The two started to talk. The man asked her for a favor: could she deliver the letter to the address on the envelope? Well, it was on her way home, so she agreed.

She started out to deliver the message, when she turned around to see if there was anything else the blind man needed. But she spotted him hurrying through the crowd without his smoked glasses or white cane. She went to the police, who raided the address on the envelope, where they found heaps of human flesh for sale.

And what was in the envelope? "This is the last one I am sending you today."

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.

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.

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.

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 wait at any given train station and keep watching a train will show up that isnt on the train schedule. If you get on the train you will find that the inside of the train, despite what the train looks like on the outside the inside will be very elegant and old fashioned.

Have a seat and enjoy the train ride. By this point there is little you can do to save yourself and you should enjoy this short period of luxury that precedes the horrors you will face.

The train is full of other passengers dressed very fancy and old timey. there will be waitresses and waiters that will serve you. When the train makes a stop get off the train. If you do not get off at this stop then the train will continue on but all the passengers will be rotting corpses and the trian will never stop, the entrances will be sealed and you will be stuck until you die in that rancid train filled with quietly rotting corpses.

After you get off the train you will be in another train station this one is completely empty and decrepid. A man with a pocketwatch hanging by a chain will come up to you and simply say "you are late."

At this point you must apologize for being late, then blame the train. If you respond in any way other then this, the man's appearance will distort right in front of you: his face will be rotting, discolored flesh and one of his eyes is out and hanging by the optic nerve.

You will find yourself paralyzed where you stand. Slowly, his mouth will begin to open until it is roughly the size of your head. His head will begin to lean in, and then the mouth will begin to cover your head. At the point where your head is fully in his mouth down to the neck, his yellowed sharpened teeth will close around your neck and cut it off. The pain will be excruciating, and yet you will remain fully conscious until he swallows you.

However, if you responded correctly he will hand you his pocket watch. By merely holding this watch you will be able to go to any train station. Once there, a train will arrive that can take you to any train station in any time or location that you desire. However, should you forget to wind the watch and it ever stop, NEVER take that train again.

If you do, you will arrive in the train station once again with that man who gave you the watch--and this time he will not bother asking any questions.

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."

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...

Alone at work late one night, you are putting in a cd to install a program on your computer. The cd is blank (unlabelled) though you remember it being labeled like any other mass produced cd. You put it into the drive, and find it to have no data on it either. Instead of the normal cd spinning sound, it almost sounded like screaming. It's obviously the wrong cd and you find the real one soon, and continue your work.
Alone again on another night you need to back-up your hard drive on a blank cd, so you put one in. You hear the vaguely familiar screaming noise, but this time your computer screen goes blank for a few seconds, before the entire floor goes dark. Now the screaming you hear is not coming from a computer drive, it's coming down the hall towards you.

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. 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.

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 flesh, 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.

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

A cat trots out from behind a corner, and lays a heart at your feet. It goes back behind the corner, and lays a liver there. It does the same with a pair of lungs, some kidneys, a stomach and a brain before imploding with a slurping noise. Autopsy shows that the organs were the cat's.


You encounter a small garden. Facing away from you is a young woman with long hair, tending to one of the flowers. If you call her attention, she will turn to you. She has been stabbed in the eye and neck with long knives, still embedded in her, the wounds trickling blood. She carries on conversationally with you; if any point out her predicament, she is confused... then she feels the implements with her hands, goes white, and collapses, gurgling. She dies moments later, an expression fusing horror, surprise, and acceptance forever captured on her face.

You feel an itch in your throat.

You try to cough it out, but it just won't come.

You struggle with forcing yourself to vomit. You drink lots of water, but whatever it is, it’s just stuck there.

You reach for the carton of milk in the fridge and sneeze as you raise it up. Something hits the floor with a rattle. You look at the floor and see a small button with a flowery design on it.

Then you look up. On the milk carton, you notice a missing kid. Her blouse shows the same buttons.

The lights in your hallway begin to flicker. When the light is on, you see nothing. But each time it goes out, you can make out the silhouette of a figure. Each time the light goes off, it gets closer.
While brushing your teeth in the evening, you catch a glimpse of your wall mirror, covered in fingerprints. Annoyed, you grab a towel and rub at them. They remain. Upon closer inspection, you realize that they seem to be on the other side of the glass...

Have you ever been taking a shower and felt like something was moving around behind the curtain? Especially if you were alone? Like as if something were watching you? Did you look up? Did you catch the very vaguest hint of eyebrows or a tuft of matted, greasy hair above the curtain rod?

That's not a good idea. It doesn't really like it if you see it. It likes it the most when you've got shampoo on your hair, and your eyes are shut tight so they won't sting. Or even better, when there's soap and bubbles all over your soft face. It likes that the best, because your eyes are clenched so tight, and even if you did want to open them, like, if you heard a soft rasping of hard, dense hairs against the plastic shower curtain, or the scratching of claws on bathroom tile, or the gentle splatter of drool or cum or... god knows what... on the floor outside, well, you wouldn't open your eyes because it'd burn. Right?

Right.

Don't open your eyes. Because if you ever see its face, catch its eyes...

Well,

it'll notice.

The human brain is a very complex organ. More powerful than the most advanced computers. Occassionally able to heal amazing injuries and regain use after terrible accidents. We're all /b/tards. We're all pretty well read. We've all heard the stories.

But is that really so good? With all the advances, have you maybe lost a few of the simple, but vital functions?

There's a lot of creepy-pasta out there about "closed doors". Well, not that much I guess. But a few. They always talk about the creepy feeling you get when you look at a closed door. Only sometimes, usually at night. Mostly it's just that odd sensation that something is behind it. Something scary. Boo. LoL.

Seriously, how silly.

Thing is... Every once in awhile, it really sinks in. That feeling that the door, and what is on one side of it is actually dangerous. That sensation that leaves you standing at the door, hand hovering above the knob, unable to move until you whisper to yourself: "It's okay, you're being a pussy" until you force yourself to turn it and walk through. These are the important times.

The door is solid. You can't see through it, you can't sense through. So when you feel so amazingly drawn to that door... feel compelled to open it, but yet you're paralyzed with fear because of what might be on the other side... remember how sometimes your "advanced" brain might confuse more basic signals coming from sensory organs you might not rely on so much these days.

And realize maybe the "simpler" parts of your brain are trying to warn you of what's on YOUR side of the door.

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

Suddenly a flash of lighting, and the mirror flickers in illumination. For a scant second the mirror revels to you dozens of faces, silhouettes within its frame, mouths open and eyes blackened. They stare out at you, their black pupils fixed upon your face.
Then it is done. Are you sure of what you have seen? Unsettled, you don’t sleep for the rest of the evening.

The next morning you remove the mirror from your wall and toss it in the trash. It didn’t matter if the vision you had seen was of truth or falsehood, you wanted to be rid of that mirror. In fact, you scrap every mirror in your house.

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

>>486186

Ah Goatman. I grew up around the woods he "haunts." Those stories terrified me for years. Now they have a haunted house dedicated to him every year.

>>486186
>>486278
That story might be a little exaggerated and spiced up but there really is or was a goatman. I saw a big news report about him years ago when i was little. There wasa picture, which scared the hell out of me for a while. Growing up near his killing grounds must have sucked

>>486283

The house where my mom lives today, you can literally walk to the same woods. However there's a lot more development now. There's a house nearby that is HUGE and has no "For sale" signs, but has never, ever had anyone living in it. We joke around and say that's the Goatman house now.

But yeah, it was terrifying. My cousin would terrorize me with stories about him. most of them were normal stories though, like a guy and girl are making out, hear sound near the car, guy goes out, doesnt come back, girl hears thumping and flees with car, they discover bloody hand tied to the trunk/guy was hung above the car type stories.

A lot of the times near the woods you'd find dead animals though too. We'd always have some kittens missing sometimes, and they'd always blame the foxes. Funny though, I haven't seen a fox near my hometown ever.

>>486102

Yes, thank you for the apples.

>>486289
maybe if you have enough material you could make a goatman thread

>>486306

Probably could. I remember most of the stories, and what I don't, I bet my mom knows.

oK so basicaly its like this. youare at a friends house for like the night or watever and then you guys are making out on the couch (yeah!) and then like.. her dad calls on the phone and says "no no she likes it more if you use the other hand.... yeah" and your alllike "oh dude your dad is trying to give me advice on how to diddle you" and then she's like... "i don't have a dad.." or whatever... but what!? WHO WAS PHONE?

>>486331
FAIL.

>>486331
Hahahahahaha.

>>486331
diddle? as in diddle her fiddle?....

fiddle....?

moar.
We've already got most of the ones I can remember.

Many classic horror icons, such as Geiger's Xenomorphs, Silent Hill's Pyramid Head, and other disturbing creatures, share common characteristics. Pale skin, dark, sunken eyes, elongated faces, sharp teeth, and the like. These images inspire horror and revulsion in many, and with good reason. The characteristics shared by these faces are imprinted in the human mind. Many things frighten humans instinctively. The fear is natural, and does not need to be reinforced in order to terrify. The fears are species-wide, stemming from dark times in the past when lightning could mean the burning of your tree home, thunder could be the approaching gallops of a stampede, predators could hide in darkness, and heights could make poor footing lethal. The question you have to ask yourself is this: What happened, deep in the hidden eras before history began, that could effect the entire human race so evenly as to give the entire species a deep, instinctual, and lasting fear of pale beings with dark, sunken eyes, razor sharp teeth, and elongated faces?

>>486377
fail.

in b4 debate

On the underside of your refrigerator there is a switch. Reach under there and feel for it. Don't mind the dust clumps and the roaches. You'll know it when you feel it, it's a hard metal tab sticking out of a slot in the plastic underside. I will be set on the righthand side (when you're facing the fridge). If you switch it to the left, nothing will happen. Your appliances will continue to run, the floor won't open into a swirling vortex that leads directly into the deepest circle of hell. You won't even hear a hitch in the hum of the refrigerator. You will get up and brush off and go about your business, you may move out of your apartment and leave the refrigerator behind, switch set to the left like it doesn't even matter.

When you die, five years later, the fingers, toes, and eyes of an unidentified person will be found in your stomach.

I can't say where/when or how often this will work, but I've tried it a few times with mixed results. If for some reason you find you can't sleep one night, indigestion, test the next day, hard mattress, too many creepy threads, whatever, close your eyes and start to play a slow and deliberate game of patty-cake. If you keep it up long enough you may start to feel a pair of something coming back to meet your hands from the void. Congratulations, you've just summoned your first... something. I can't say it's important not to open your eyes at this point, but I didn't anyway. The first time I tried this was in my apartment when I had a presentation to give the following morning, a real toss-turn kind of night. For whatever reason I sat up and decided to put one hand out before me and I felt a faint tingle from a rather low angle. I unconsiously started to play and after a while I noticed I was humming some sort of tuneless lulliby. After about an hour or so whatever was playing on the other end stopped and I went into a deep, dreamless and very restful sleep. I tried this trick again at my girlfriend's parents house while she was with me in their crappy spare bed (I was facing back to her, legs over the side of the bed, eyes closed). After about twenty minutes this time it actually felt like a pair of solid hands, from a much higher angle than before, was coming back and hitting mine a bit harder every time. Suddenly the game stopped and something made a noise in my right ear like a human shriek combined with car breaks causing me to cringe before it ran up the wall behind me into the ceiling. Maybe whatever was in that house had outgrown the game. I still slept ok. For all I know I was just hitting the wall/my blanket tiring my own gullible self out and my girlfriend's just a noisy bitch but... I still can't wait to try it again the next time I can't sleep. Still not sure what happens if you open your eyes, though.

Yesterday, a friend of mine called me. It was a John, an old buddy from high school. I hadn't spoken with him for years, and we started to reminisce about all the crap we pulled in high school. A few days later I decided to call him back, and see if we could get together, maybe go fishing or something.

We talked on the phone for a while, and I said to him "Hey, maybe we should get together sometime." He first said that that was a bad idea, but then he agreed. I asked him for address, copied it down, and told him I'd see him in the morning.

The next morning I arrived at the place he said he lived at. There was nothing but rubble there. It looked like there had been a fire there years ago, but nothing got cleaned up, and the plants never regrew. In the middle of the rubble, I found a old rotary style telephone on the floor, not connected to anything. Hurridly, I pulled out my cellphone and called his number.

The telephone on the floor rang.

Once.

Twice.

A third time.

I dropped my cellphone in shock, and knelt to grab the rotary telephone. A voice, drenched in distortion and hiss, said:

"I told you this was a bad idea."

The next time you're alone in your room, turn down the lights. Think of something on your body that varies in length, such as hair. It must be clearly viewable from your perspective. Grab a ruler and, looking in the mirror, quickly grab a hair at random; you must confuse it. Hold it in position as best you can and note the length. Look down. Yours will be different.

Don't look back up.

Don't turn your back to that mirror ever again.

Open up photoshop. Open any image, as long as it doesn't contain a ferry or other ocean-going vessal in the picture. Select the magnifying glass tool, close your eyes, and while randomly pressing the "Alt" key up and down, click in somewhat random places around the picture.

When you open your eyes, you will probably see a meaningless section of the image.

However, they say if the right constellations are in the sky, you will open your eyes to a horrible image beyond words. If you can view the image without screaming, you will be whisked away to heaven on Earth, provided with any wish you may desire.

However, if you scream upon viewing the image, the floor will open up beneath you. There is no certaincy as to where you end up, but it is not hard to guess.

So what is the image? Noone knows. There is not one who has not screamed.

Sometimes, when driving down a deserted road, you will see a woman. She will be standing by the side of the road. If you stop and let her into the car, she will ask you to take her home. Then she will ask you to come home with her. If you comply, your car will be found the next morning, but no one will ever see you again.

At 12:17 am, on any given night, arises the opportunity to awaken an alternate soul. The to ease toward the mirror's glass. You must keep watching as it approaches.

If you do not extinguish the candle at exactly 12:17, the creature will escape

>>486151
Bad copy, Anon... "somewhere in NYC...the corner of Lex ans 21st near Gramercy Park" That's not somewhere, that's very specific

Once, about 50 years ago, there was a young boy. No one knows his actually name, so we will call him tommy. He lived in a quiet, small town. Every thing was normal, nothing out of the ordinary.

One day a traveling circus came to town. It had all the normal circus stuff, trapeze artists, animal trainers, clowns.

It also had a miniature wax museum.

Every one always commented on how life like the wax sculptures were, and how well done they were. The Ring Master thanked them, and said the artist was very talented.

Tommy was fascinated by the sculptures. He stayed will closing, talking to the ring master. He was so interested that the Ring Master invited him to come back to the circus after closing and he would introduce Tommy to the Artist. ecstatic, Tommy agreed.

That night, when Tommy came back, the circus grounds were completely deserted. No carnies, no animals, nothing. No where. Tommy really wanted to meet the Artist, so he went to the Wax Museum.

When he got there, the lights were on, but it was empty. Tommy started walking through, admiring the sculptures again. Then the doors slammed shut behind him, and he heard the faint click of a lock.

Tommy ran towards the doors, and shook them until they almost came off the hinges. He then stopped, thinking that he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. He decided he must have imagined it. Then he felt something grab him from behind, and his sight went black.

The next day one of Tommy's friends came by the circus, looking for Tommy, to discover that they were packing up. he headed over to the wax museum, to ask if they had seen Tommy anywhere. When he entered the Museum, he walked a few feet and stopped.

There was a new sculpture in the exhibit. Of a young boy, around 9 years old. Tommy's friend approached the sculpture, a look of horror on his face. The sculpture looked exactly like Tommy, but when he reached out and touched it, he felt the cool, smooth surface of wax.

There was this woman whose husband was acting very strange one day, very paranoid, she asked him why and he told her;
"Twelve years ago to this day a whole bunch of my friends and I went to an old haunted house downtown to stay the night because we thought it would be fun. We were all settled on the bottom floor of the house and we were fine for the first few hours. We began to hear things that sounded like foot steps pacing on the floor above, and scratching on the walls. We sent Jimmy, who was the oldest of us, up to have a look so he grabbed his flashlight and we watched him head up the steps. His foot steps seemed to stop towards the last few steps where he was no longer visible to us and slowly his light faded from view, we called after him but there was no reply. Afterwards we sent Matt, the second oldest up to find him, he walked up the steps and the same thing happened. At this point we thought they were joking, and out third eldest, Jason went up to look shouting that he knew it was a trick and to give it up, at the last few steps where the other guys had vanished his shouting voice became distant before vanishing completely. The rest of us got scared and went home to call the police who checked it out the next morning and found blood smeared up the sides of the stairwell. They searched the entire house and never found a soul. The house was eventually knocked down and not one body was found. Every year on this day one of us remaining from that house has disappeared going from oldest to youngest."

He never saw the next day

Any night, around 10 or 11 pm, take yourself to a flat, open area where you can walk in a straight line for two minutes or so without running into anything. Once there, face in the direction you plan to walk, with your arms at your sides and your hands relaxed. Close your eyes, and take a deep breath. At precisely 11:09 and 20 seconds, start walking. Be sure to take one step every second, no more, no less. Do not open your eyes, and do not hesitate. Count your steps in your head as you go. On the one hundred and eleventh step, say the word "One" out loud, and stop. Your breath will catch in your throat, and your hair will stand on end. For the next ten seconds, you will be unable to move a single muscle in your body, no matter how hard you try. After these ten seconds, you will be able to move and breathe again – however, you will then start to feel the sensation of cold metal claws seizing each of your fingers by the base and plucking them clean off of your hand. It will not hurt. You will surely be horrified, but do not open your eyes, and do not move. If you move or open your eyes, all that anyone will ever find of you is your two fingerless hands, severed cleanly at the wrist. Once the claws have stopped, and all of your fingers have been plucked off, stay still for another ten seconds. It may help to count. After these ten seconds have passed, you may open your eyes. You will find that your fingers are still quite firmly attached to your hands. Go home immediately, and go directly to bed. Speak to no one for the rest of the night, and enter no building that you do not consider your home.

The next day, you will have become One of Them. Once per day, as long as there is even a sliver of sunlight, you may point at someone and speak the word "One." That night, he will face the same trial that you faced. If you see that person the next day, you will know that he, too, has become One of Them. If not, then do not be alarmed if you do not feel hungry the rest of the day.

In many stores and establishments that provide videos of a less than appropriate manner, there is a business card.

Some stores keep it well hidden, locked in a safe, and will deny it's existence. Others will show you if you ask for it by name. None will have it displayed in the open.

On this card is a name; Moonlight Films, and a contact number. It's always a local number.

Go to any payphone in any city and dial the number. The answer will be prompt but all you will hear is silence. Wait for thirty seconds. Then you will be served.

A dry, monotone male voice will ask you one question; "Is the road from life to death dark?"

If you answer with anything but the correct reply, he will hang up on you. If you fail the first time, I'd suggest not trying again.

The correct response is "It is moonlit."

If his question is answered properly, the man will say one address in your city and then hang up.

Go to this address and you will find that it is a small, dingy apartment. The carpet will be dirty, the wallpaper flaking and wrinkled, the windows cracked. It will smell of tobacco smoke and decay. On the stained old coffee table there will be a paper bag. On this bag your full name will be printed in red sharpie.

Open the bag and you will find an unlabeled video tape. Take it and place exactly $10.99 in the bag then leave.

You can watch the tape if you like, but you don't have to. I warn you, it's not pleasant. You will see a room or chamber papered in dessicated skin, the furniture will be crafted from flesh and bone. But all of it will be alive. The tape will last approximately 32 minutes and will depict the murder of a person and the subsequent crafting of their body into another animated furnishing.

You have rented the tape for one week. You must return it to the apartment by sliding it through the mail slot when the time is up. After that, never return to the apartment, never return to the store you recieved the contact number from, and DEFINITELY don't call the number ever again.

I'd also suggest you not keep the tape more than a week. The owners will not be satisfied with a mere late fee, and a good home can never have enough accessories.

>>486434
>>486436
MOAR

http://thekingofwolves.webs.com

One day at a shopping mall in the afternoon, a woman was coming out of the mall from a shopping spree. She was in a happy mood. She had gotten to her car and loaded her stuff that she had bought into her trunk. When she was done loading, she shut the door of her trunk and she saw an old lady standing by the passenger side of her car.

The old woman said "Would you be a darling and give me a lift home? I don't have a car and I was walking all day." The woman said "I'd be happy to." So she unlocked the door for the old woman.

As she started to make her way around the car to the driver's side, she started to feel uncomfortable. So when she got in the car, she looked in her purse and said "Darn, I can't find my credit card. I'm going inside to see if anybody found it." The old woman said "I'll wait for you here."

The woman left to go look for help. Then she found a security guard and told him the situation. They went back to the woman's car and the passenger door was wide open. On the seat of the car was a shopping bag that the old woman had been carrying. Inside of the bag was the old woman's dress and a gray haired wig, along with a huge butcher's knife and a roll of duct tape.

A boy and his girlfriend went out in a remote area of the town to "have some personal time." Later on, the girlfriend said that she was tired and wanted to go home. He said "okay" and went to get out of the car. Then she turned on the radio and heard that this madman was on the loose after breaking free from the local insane asylum.

He said "don't get out of the car and lock the doors. I'll be right back." So she waited for him. And waited and waited. She tried to take a nap but couldn't because she was worrying where he could be. She heard this "tap tap tap" on the window next to her.

She looked, hoping to see her boyfriend's face to let him in. Instead it was this man's face that was dirty and scarred from cuts. His eyes were bloodshot and rolling in his head, laughing. She screamed when she saw her boyfriend's severed head in his hand and a knife in the other. She turned away and heard it was quiet. Thinking he had gone away she looked again. Only this time....He held the car keys in the other hand instead of the head.

My great-great grandmother, who had been ill for some time now, finally passed away. My great-great grandfather was devastated beyond belief. She was his one true love and they had been married for over 50 years.

They had been married so long it was if they knew each others thoughts. Even after the doctor announced her dead, my great-great grandfather still insisted that she was not. He had to literally be pried away from his wife's body so they could prepare her for a burial.

Back in those days they had simple backyard burial plots, without the body doing through any preservation. The body was simply committed to the coffin and buried. Throughout this process, my great-great grandfather protested so much that he had to be sedated and put to bed. His wife was buried, and that was that.

That night, he woke to a horrific vision of his wide hysterically trying to scratch her way out of the coffin. He phoned the doctor immediately and begged to have his wife's body taken out. The doctor refused. He continued to have this nightmare every night that week, and each day after begged the doctor to remove his wife from the grave.

Finally, the doctor gave in, and with the local authorities had the coffin removed from the ground and pried open. To everyone's horror and amazement, my great great grandmothers nails were bent back, and there were obvious scratches on the inside of the coffin.

Anyone else have any more?
I'm fresh out. (I posted the majority of these)

>>486095

I think about this one almost every time I look in a mirror. no shit.

>>486564
You too?

<3 creepy copypasta

>>486564
Same.
That and the shower one scare the crap out of me still.

>>486569
Jesus christ, agreed. That's gotta be one I'm most afraid of. Just the idea of being naked and essentially blind and having some... <i>thing</i> lurking about outside the curtain. Gives me the fucking willies.

>>486573

Not just the willies. The FUCKING willies.

>>486186
Prolapsed rectum

>>486210
I can see if that is true when I'm older.

Yay Seattlefags.

>>486241
Weeping Angels, lol.

>>486248
>You'll feel as if you've pierced your own heart
Holy fuck.
Right when I read that sentence, I jumped because I figured out what object number three is.

In a small orphanage in a small village in Russia, there is a young boy. His hair is jet black, messy, and his eyes are grey, and hollow, icy with their glare.
Nothing is known of him, of his past or heritage, how he even got there.
For 10 years, he sat in the bed in his room, never moving, never blinking, never eating or sleeping. In those 10 years, he has not seemed to age at all, continuing to look like a 7 year old boy. The only thing that proved he was even alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and the refusal to take his eyes off anyone who enters the room alone.
A lone psychiatrist came over in an attempt to find out why the boy had done nothing in 10 years. He entered the room, and shut the door behind him.
30 minutes later, the orphanage's nurse came to check on the 2 of them. Opening the door, she saw the child, still sitting, still not moving, eyes fixed on her. However, something seemed different. He appeared a slight amount larger, not by much, but enough to make him look like a late 8 or early 9 year old. The psychiatrist was no longer in the room. The door was the only exit, as the room had no windows, vents, or anything, and it was, in fact, in the exact center of the orphanage.

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

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

If you return to that orphanage, you will see it still continues to run. The orphans live in good care, health, and are well educated. However, there is one room, now boarded up, and far from enterable. If you ask what is behind it, you will be removed forcefully from the orphanage.
However, when no one's looking, if you place your ear to the door, you will hear a low ominous growling sound, and if you listen, soon enough you will hear;

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

> We do not have an clown statue.
> have an clown statue.
> have an clown
> an clown

>>486626
clowns confirmed for brawl

>>486269
Heh. At first this scared the hell out of me, but as I thought about it, I realized it was kinda sweet. After all, they haven't done anything to hurt the person, yet. And if they miss you, I can't imagine they're evil.

:3 That's sweet.

You just moved into your new apartment, in a very big city. After a year of this life, you have almost given up hope of making any friends; be it at work or any other means. You feel very lonely. After looking for a peaceful place to spend your time, you find a quiet diner on the outskirts of town. The waitress is very attractive. Also, she seems to be the only employee there, ever. You never see anyone else eat there either, ever. The place is perfect for you.

Making love to her becomes a routine. You go there every night for dinner, and then to see her.

You eventually make other friends, and eat at the diner less and less. After some time you stop going completely.
At a bar with your best friend, you tell him about the fun you had with the waitress at the diner. He says he absolutely must see her. You take him there one night, but the building is in a state of ruin. The front door barely opens. The grimy insides of the diner are disgusting, and, behind the counter, is moldy corpse, reeking of pus and rot.

When the police come to the scene, they interview both you and your friend. You are shocked to hear that the body is of a runaway girl from another province. The police tell you this is a homicide, and that she was also raped dozens of times, after she was killed. The police say they can get a match for DNA and eliminate you as a suspect. You are suddenly very worried.

You wake up to a strange scratching at your window. You sit up, and look blankly at your wall, which is in perfect order. You lean slightly to one side and tilt your head to hear the sound better. You realise it's just the tree's leaves scratching your window; after all it's a windy night.

You lay back down, and after about five minutes a tapping noise awakens you once more. You repeat what you just did, you lean over and tilt your head; it's definitely a tapping. For a minute you become paranoid, but you realise that after all it is winter, so a majority of the foliage has died and fallen off; it's just a bare branch hitting your window.

You're just about to lay back down, when you hear a hissing. Of course, it's just the wind blowing through the dead leaves, and the "hissing" is just the leaves rustling among one another.

You laugh to yourself, and lay back down.

But then, you jump straight out of bed in a cold sweat.

You don't have a tree outside your window.

There was a girl named Jenna who was having a slumber party. She invited three friends but only one came. That night, after they did all the fun activities they went to bed. Jenna's friend Mary said "goodnight" and they went to bed. Ten minutes later Jenna heard Mary counting "12345" she didn't pay much attention though she thought that Mary was counting to get to sleep. At about 3am Jenna woke up to go to the bathroom and heard "564, 565, 566, 567" she reach over and turned on the light and turned around to see a man holding Mary's decapitated head pulling out her hair one piece at a time.

>>486596
So, number 3 is his heart?

fresh copy past from me to you:

I was driving down to my grandparents' for the
weekend when i happened to see this kid on the side of the road.

It was around 10 pm, not really the time for a boy of about 6 or seven to be walking around the streets..
But being the non-caring bastard that i am I drove on.

As the light turned red at the next intersection i see a young girl of around the same age waiting under the stoplight.
She began to cross the street as i was stopped.

When she reached the front of my car she stopped and turned to look right at me..
Her eyes were orbs of pure black, they seemed to suck me into their depths.
She just stared at me through the windshield...

The light turned green.

She just stood there. i mentioned for her to move aside but she wouldn't..
Then i noticed her nodding at someone to the rear of the car...

I looked into the rear-view mirror..

there, behind the car stood the young boy i passed earlier.

His eyes were the same as the girl in front of me, their features seemed to have been copied directly from each other...

Then i heard him say: "Why did'nt you stop back there?"
And then the girl said: "They almost always stop for him.."

>>486675
kinda lame

>>486670
No.

*shifty eyes*

moar
this thread is epic

In any city, in any country, go to any hospital and ask to visit the "Holder of Hate." The attendant will give you a firm handshake, look you straight in the eyes, and say "It took you long enough." They will hand you a key to room 532 and tell you to go down the left hall.

As you walk down the hall you will hear insane cackling. Should it stop, yell "I do not fear you!" If it does not begin again, run as fast as your legs will carry you. Should it continue, keep walking. Stop when you reach room 532. The door will be covered in scratches, gashes and all manner of burns.

There will be a small, strangely unscarred glass panel in the door. Peer inside. If there is a figure standing with his back to you, retreat as quietly as you can. If the room is empty, unlock the door and enter. A red light will be shining out of the sole window in the room. Should you gaze out of this window your eyes will soon burst from your sockets and your screams will be your only utterance for all eternity. The room is small, the walls covered in blood, and a small cloaked figure sits in the middle. It will respond to only one question: "Why do they hate?" The figure's cloak will fly into the air revealing a grotesquely disfigured being. It will answer your question in horrific detail. Upon finishing the story it will collapse, as if a tremendous burden has passed from its shoulders, and crawl into the corner. You will begin to hear strange, unearthly shrieks from beyond the door. They will be getting nearer by the second. Your only hope is to wrap yourself in the cloak and hurl yourself out the red window. If you were not followed you will wake up on the lawn of the hospital the next day, wrapped snugly in the cloak.

The cloak is object 23 of 538. It will hide you from their hate.

goddamnit, /x/, I have to pee but I have to pass a mirror to get to the bathroom.

I hate you guys.

>>486753
If you truly hate the world and wish to end your existence, but do not wish to die, there is another way. You must have a mirror that you have gazed upon since you were a child, and you must want above all else to leave this existence.Firm your resolve and go to the mirror an hour before the time you were born. If you do not know it, then this path is lost to you. Gaze into the eyes of your reflection for that hour, and when it passes you will feel a chill ripple through you.

Splay your fingers out on the mirror. Quietly, but with full sincerity, whisper "I release."
You will shiver again, and the reflection this time will not shiver with you. Under each finger you will feel not cold glass, but the warmth of flesh. Close your eyes. Count to five.

When you open them again you will be surrounded by heavy gray fog, gazing through the back of the mirror. The you on the other side will look around at the surroundings that were once yours, smile, and then vanish. The mirror to your existence will fade to nothing.

If you walk through that rolling fog long enough, you will come to a town where everyone is almost someone you knew. They will not recognize you, and you will not know the language they speak.You will live here in happiness for the rest of your days as long as you never again seek out the fog from whence you came.

If you start out into that expanse of gray you will never again see a soul, and you will know only the sound of screaming.

>>486766

ha-HA! I got you there, I don't have any mirrors that have been around since childhood~

/r/ing the one where the mirror makes the guy stab himself in the eye

>>486753
Just don't turn your fucking back on it man. For me, such a thing is impossible to do; there are three damn mirrors in the bathroom. Fifteen mirrors in the house.

There is no escape.

>>486663
What a wonderfully hilarious mistake.

Turn out the lights. All of them. Shut your now useless eyes and focus on silence. Once you have blurred the noise around you, look inside. look deep into your heart for something that is not you. When you find it, ask its name. If it does not respond say to it "This is MY body and I am king in it. You will speak." then ask again. Listen closely with ears you don't have to the voice you will hear faintly. Then pull it from its resting spot and fight it.

The next time you're alone in your room, turn down the lights. Think of something on your body that varies in length, such as hair. It must be clearly viewable from your perspective. Grab a ruler and, looking in the mirror, quickly grab a hair at random; you must confuse it. Hold it in position as best you can and note the length. Look down. Yours will be different.

Don't look back up.

Don't turn your back to that mirror ever again.
----------------------------------------------
I've seen this like 6 times in this one post...wth does it mean?

>>486805
Seconded.

>>486665
OH SHI-

During the 1918 Spanish Flu pandemic a man had a vision in which he saw himself beside the gravestones of his two young children with a gun to his mouth. He was so convinced by the vision he decided it would be best if he saved his children the agonizing pain caused by the virus. That night he shot both of his children while they slept. Both of the autopsies showed that they were never infected.
Before the man could stand trial he walked to the tombstones of his children and there held a gun to his mouth.

>>486909

The length is different because it's not really you, it's the evil mirror doppleganger that doesn't want you to know it exists. Traditional mirror type creepypasta. And people wonder why mirrors terrify me....

Your alarm beeps at you, drawing you out of a deep sleep. Blinking, you try to focus your eyes, but you can hardly open them. Wiping away the crust that holds your eyelids shut, you notice an acrid smell. Just a hint of burning rubber and something else, something you can't quite figure out. You sit up in bed, continuing to focus on the hazy streams of daylight coming through your window. As you keep blinking, your mind slowly starts to panic. You cannot focus or see anything but a few whirls and loops, as if someone had cut tiny pieces out of your sight.

Eventually, you find your phone, and call for help. At the doctor, the test results come back. Something had burned into your eyes, something that strangely enough, are fingerprints. Your own.

Sephiron are creatures with a killing lust, sometimes also mistaken for "white shadow people".

They almost always only hunt in packs of 3 or 4, are distinguishable by cat like eyes, and a very smooth stride which can almost give the appearance of floating.

Their existence is due to an exposure to a plant, which releases spores as a natural defense. It causes any nearby herbivores to obtain a light skin rash, followed by swelling of the cerebrum, which in turn is shortly followed by death.

Humans, however, are affected more severely. The swelling ceases at a certain point, causing the infected to slowly lose sanity. At 2 days after exposure, they will obtain an urge to kill, but it is controllable at this point. They will sub-consciously begin to scout local neighborhoods, planning murders. Within 3-5 days after exposure, their eyes will change and give off a cat-like appearance, as well as the change in stride. After 8 days, the disease can become contagious. Any contact with the rash will spread the condition. After 11-15 days, they will become aware that they cannot control themselves from killing and seclude themselves.

In this period of seclusion, they will begin to admit a strange pheromone. While humans cannot smell it, dogs, and other infected are able to sense it, and will be drawn to it. The infected will wait until all those with the condition are drawn to it. When gathered, frequent homicides will occur. At this point, the condition is no longer contagious. The rash is gone, and they will simply continue to kill until they are disposed of.

>>486675

Not bad, IMO

You sit in your chair staring at the monitor, your room lit by nothing but the dull glow of it. Sure /x/ creeps you out, but you find it so addicting and are unable to stop reading it. By the time you stop you are scared beyond belief, paranoid of anything and everything.

You look at your door just waiting for something to enter and bring you to your end or you stare at under the bed waiting for whatever entity you've imagined to crawl out staring you straight in the eye as its joints pop in and out of place as it moves. The thing that scares you the most is your window, staring out into the black night. Covered by nothing but a thin curtain you turn to look at it every few minutes. Then finally you turn to look at it once more and the curtain floats up for a moment revealing a man staring into your room, straight at you.

>>486952

I am legend?

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pron surfed, weak and weary, over many a strange and spurious site of 'hot xxx galore'. While I clicked my fav'rite bookmark, suddenly there came a warning, and my heart was filled with mourning, mourning for my dear amour, " 'Tis not possible!", I muttered, " give me back my free hardcore!"..... quoth the server, 404.

>>487182
crud. /b/'s here.

>>487195
Considering he imitated the rhyme and matched the meter pretty much perfectly, this was actually quite clever and well-written. I lol'd.

>>486106
i am supposed to risk my ass for $12? that doesn't even cover the fucking whip. fail.

>>486697

Then what?

>>487182
I shat brix.

I am Thomas's reflection.

Every morning, he rises from sleep and walks into the bathroom.

...and he makes faces.

I am so tired of the faces. He makes them for at least half an hour. Mocking, ridiculous faces. I have no choice but to mimic his every action, although inside I am seething with anger.

He does this every day... well, USED to.

One morning he awoke as usual, and entered the bathroom.

On this particular morning, against his will, he picked up a pair of scissors.

On this particular morning, against his will, he gripped those scissors tightly in his fist.

...on this particular morning, entirely against his will, he plunged those scissors directly into his right eye.

Thomas screamed, and screamed. I screamed and screamed too - with one difference.

I can't mimic his pain.

Just
his
face.

The eyes of a cat are windows to your soul. They can see other dimensions, they can see your aura, and what's wrong with you.
A cat knows when you are happy, when you are in bad health, when you are troubled, or when you are hungry. He knows when you are feeling magnanimous, and he knows when you are about to die.
It's fortunate that cats can't talk, because you have a lot of secrets. The cat knows.

Your new apartment is perfect, except for the bathroom. Black mildew stains the corners, cracks, and crevices of the tile. You break out the cleaner and brush, and go to work. No matter how much you scrub, however, you just can't seem to make a difference. For a second after you rinse off the suds, you think that there even seems to be more mildew than when you started. Frustrated, you decide to give up for the time being, at least until you can get some more potent cleaner. You turn to the sink to wash your hands -- and that's when you first notice the black mildew stains around your fingernails...

Your cell phone rings, and it’s a number you don't recognize. You shrug, and answer anyway.

You-Hello?
Caller-May I have five minutes of your life?
You-Sure…

The caller hangs up.
Suddenly you feel a little bit older.
Then, the phone rings again. It's from the same number.

GET HELP.

You start noticing those words when you're going about your day-to-day business - just flipping through the classifieds, or posted on telephones near bridges. Normal places. Just words that seem to be catching your eye.

Then they start appearing more randomly: the first seven tiles you pick in Scrabble, the first spoonful of alphabet soup, even those stupid spams sent by strangers. You even check a few of them, but they all end up being for the same old pills and promises.

Now it's getting so everything you read has those words crop up - close-captioned TV shows, book titles, CDs, bus schedules, menus, everywhere. It's distracting, very very distracting, it's so very hard to concentrate when words squiggle out of the corner of your eye, when the keyboard's no longer qwerty but gethelpgethelpgethelp.

The delusion's taking its toll. Who needs help? Who's sending you this message? Why you? How can you help someone who you don't even know?

You're trying to type an email to a friend. It's very hard to do. The letters keep swimming and you add an apology in the email, just in case your writing's garbled. You finally hit send.

Later, you wake up.

You're in the hospital. Your friend is sitting beside you. I was so worried, he says. When you sent that email. GET HELP GET HELP GET HELP, over and over. I came over and found you on the floor. They had to do surgery. Do you know what they found? A second brain. Tiny but fully formed, growing in your head. It was blocking an artery. You're lucky to be alive.

But you aren't really listening to your friend any more. You're staring at a fire escape diagram near your bed. It doesn't say anything about fire safety at all.

FINALLY, it says. IT WAS GETTING CROWDED IN THERE.

Whenever you enter an empty elevator you notice that the "call" button is twisted slightly. This continues to irk you until finally you give it a good twist to put it back in place.

The button falls to the floor. There is an eye behind it, red and staring straight at you. Almost through you.

Now you take the stairs.

You are alone in the dark. The power has been knocked out by a heavy storm. All you can hear is the rain on the window. You're stumbling around trying to find candles and a lighter, when someone puts a matchbox into your hand.

If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique, everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. Actually, there is never, ever, total quiet anywhere on Earth. This sound actually covers something very important. For a persistent individual, one can discern what is under this pitch. The next time you are in such a situation, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then become completely silent all at once. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might catch a snatch of soft murmuring. A special few might clearly make out what they hear on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds later. Such an ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no? You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch there is for this.

There will come a night when /x/ is a screamer.

Not an image on /x/, and not the images in a thread. /x/ itself.

The server can, at random, insert a single innocuous line of scripts to any browser accessing the page. This can only happen between the hours of eleven PM and four AM your time.

The scripting will cause the page to suddenly distort, and the image of a horrible, almost-human creature will jump at you with a pre-loaded screaming sound. The image hasn't popped up on any of 4chan's boards as of late.

The odds are really low, but it'll happen to someone eventually.

Just something to keep in mind while browsing late at night.

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...

>>487314

You keep finding things on your shelves when you wake up. Normally, it's just something small and cheesy, but whoever's putting them there seems to know your sense of humor. Though there's been a few times it's been something nice - there was a wallet without any ID that time you were low on rent, and a Rolex when you forgot your dad's birthday. Today, though? There's simply a note. "Okay, your turn."

The seniors of St.Charles high school's football team went out to party after winning the state championship. As is common with high school jocks, all of them had plenty of experience with alochol and marijuana. Deciding to make this night really memorable, they all tried acid for the first time. The four of them drove around town for several hours, before pulling up to a dark shady house, with a funny looking lawn gnome on the front lawn. They decided to steal the gnome, but as soon as they got it in the car it started talking to them. All four boys were terrified of this gnome, and decided to throw it in the trunk of the car. When they got home, the gnome was still babbling incoherently. They left it in the trunk and crashed for the night. When they woke up, they found the body of a 4 year old black kid in their trunk.

It's been a long day at work, so you decided to end it with a relaxing shower.

You step out of the shower and catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. As usual, your piercing blue eyes stand out more than anything.

But wait...something isn't right.

You turn away from the mirror and leave the bathroom to grab your wallet, and check your driver's license.

You don't have blue eyes.

Archive this

Thanks for your request.
It has been added to our database and the thread will be archived as soon as enough request for that thread have been made.
This thread has been requested 2 times now.

>>486102

>>486154

I´ve always wondered if these two are related.

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.

I hate autosage. So much

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.

someone sticky. This is epic.
Never seen so much creepypasta. Most of the archived ones are mainly people bitching.

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.

Prominently displayed in the children's section of the Houston Downtown Public Library, among several others of the same title, My First Cookbook appears as a run-of-the-mill children's cookbook, complete with large print, simple instructions, colorful, friendly illustrations and a somewhat disproportionate desert section. In fact, the only major deviation from this theme is an article near the end of the book entitled "A Recipe for Success". This is a complex, macabre ritual involving human sacrifice, self mutilation and sacrilege, as well as more curious and innocuous practices such as walking down a stair case with a prime number of stairs taking them two at a time and then up it taking them three at a time. It's written in the same cheerfully simple prose as the rest of the book and accompanied by the same helpful, pastel drawings.

There is a certain road near the Everglades in Florida, which, if you drive down it alone in the rain, day or night, you will suddenly have a very real feeling of being completely lost. Your radio will turn to static, your CDs will skip, and your tapes will play slower than normal. If you try to find a map in your car, it will have mysteriously vanished.

If you continue forward down the road for more than a minute, you will find that you can't turn around, and everything behind you is pitch dark. There are no other roads and no other cars.

Continuing down the road, you will come upon a fork with no signposts. In the middle of the fork, there will be a man, covered head to foot in various pieces of clothing. The only skin visible will be around his eyes, which will be bright green.

You must get out of your car, but do not turn it off or close the door after you. You must approach the man, but stop at least three feet away. You must stand there silently, waiting for him to speak first. If you break the silence first, you will find yourself back on a main road, but you will die within 24 hours.

If he speaks first, he will ask you what you require. Tell him that you need to know which road will take you to your destination. He will then ask you what you will offer him in exchange for his assistance. If you offer him a ride, he and your car will disappear, and you will become the new guardian of the crossroad. If you offer him an umbrella, he will take it and stab you through the chest. If you offer him your love, he will take your heart still beating from your chest and eat it, condemning you to walk the earth without a heart, insane from the pain and loss.

You must offer him your loyalty and kneel before him. If you do this, he will close his eyes and bow in return, extending a hand to whichever path will lead you back to safety.

If you try to run from him, you will be dead before you reach your car, and your body will be found back in your car in some random location.

Just one more req for archive and it's ready

It is said that there is at least one mirror present at every birth. A window; the blade of a scalpel, anything. If you can find yours, stare into your reflection's eyes for exactly an hour. You fall unconcious, and be in the delivery room, witnessing the final moments before you entered this world. The doctor will greet you, and his eyes will look into yours, and they shall be your own. At this moment, the doctor knows everything about you, and will ask you a question about yourself. The question will not be easy, and you must be incredibly metacognitive to answer it correctly. If you do, you shall be born, and wake up with knowledge beyond mortal comprehension. If you answer incorrectly, you will come out stillborn, your skin cracked and burnt, and you will never wake up.

Coffins used to be built with holes in them, attached to six feet of copper tubing and a bell. The tubing would allow air for victims buried under the mistaken impression they were dead. Harold, the Oakdale gravedigger, upon hearing a bell, went to go see if it was children pretending to be spirits. Sometimes it was also the wind. This time it wasn’t either. A voice from below begged, pleaded to be unburied. “You Sarah O’Bannon?” Yes! the voice assured. “You were born on September 17, 1827?” "Yes!" “The gravestone here says you died on February 19?” "No I'm alive, it was a mistake! Dig me up, set me free!"

“Sorry about this, ma’am,” Harold said, stepping on the bell to silence it and plugging up the copper tube with dirt. “But this is August. Whatever you is down there, you ain’t alive no more, and you ain’t comin’ up.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Before her death my grandmother told that she knows what's behind these incidents. After the 2nd world war there was a shortage of apartements and one war veteran who had lost his left arm was given a rudimentary room in the basement for no cost if he would help people to do laundry and help the janitor. He did, but eventually someone insulted him way or another. The veteran killed that youngster and himself. Ever since his spirit has been there, harshly punishing those who fail to follow the rules of his home. After telling this she told me that I should never ever return to the appartement as I knew too much. As I left the appartement for the last time I could see the figure of an old, old man missing his left arm staring at me, reflected on the large glass panel on the door to the stairway...

Somewhere in the middle of the Desert in Nevada, there's a place where, if you look to the west at sunset you'll be able to make out a tiny, house-shaped structure in the far distance, Wait for the sun to set completely and then you must WALK straight towards that structure without deviating. As the night wears on, you will hear groans and cries of pain in the distance. Ignore them. You must continue to move towards where you saw the building. The night will seem much longer than any normal night, but if you continue walking until the sun comes up again behind you, you'll find youself suddenly in front of a battered, dusty shack. Inside, you will find no windows or doors (including the one you just came though) and in the center of the room will be a body. Reports of the decay vary from recently dead to a skeleton with clothes. You might recognize the clothes or possibly the face. This body is yours. You can inspect it for as long as you dare. Check it for wounds or clues to your death... check its pockets for clues about your future if you wish. But you must figure out how to leave the room and do it before your corpse awakens. If you make it out of the room, you'll find yourself back at the edge of the desert where you started. But if your corpse stirs before you can find the way out, you'll be trapped in that room for eternity while your corpse is allowed to roam free. What does a corpse do with a second chance at life, you ask? Well, remember those groans and cries you heard crossing the desert? A reanimated corpse has to eat, too...

When you are admitted to a hospital, they place on your wrist a white wristband with your name on it. But there are other different colored wristbands which symbolizes other things. The red wristbands are placed on dead people.

There was one surgeon who worked on night shift in a school hospital. He had just finished an operation and was on his way down to the basement. He entered the elevator and there was just one other person there. He casually chatted with the woman while the elevator descended. When the elevator door opened another woman was about to enter when the doctor slammed the close button and punched the button to the highest floor. Surprised the woman reprimanded the doctor for being rude and asked why he did not let the other woman in.

The doctor said "that was the woman i just operated on. She died while I was doing the operation. Didn't you see the red wristband she was wearing?"

The woman smiled and raised her arm "something like this?"

moar. dont let this die.
also archive

If you take the highway from Nevada to Baker on a moonless night, and you are not one of the lucky ones, you will arrive in half the time it takes to get there in the day.

There is, however, a price for this. Sometimes it is already paid by a carful of dumb teenagers who stray off the I-15. Sometimes it it paid by an older couple who become confused and take the wrong exit. That can happen easily on this lonely stretch of road.

If you find yourself alone on the road to baker, on a moonless night, even though you were quite sure not long ago you saw headlights behind you and taillights ahead, it is imperative that you do not stop. Veterans of this lonely night drive, the ones who take advantage of the leap in time, know enough to ignore their gas gauges, to ignore that the desert around them does not appear to be the same as the one traveled by light.

If you find yourself on the moonless night road to Baker, you will find it- with burned-out shells of houses that give way to a road that never had a Baker exit. The route you travel is through an old place, a sacred place.

Do not turn on the radio. Do not use your cell phone. That will only draw attention to yourself from this silent desert's inhabitants.

If you drive in the day from Nevada to baker, sometimes, in the distance, you will see the rusting husks of cars. There's a price to pay, for the shortened night drive to baker. If you dare it, be silent, and be sure you are not the one to pay it.

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

MOAR MOAR MOAR

This thread is fucking epic

Someone archive this shit.

Creepypasta dump FTW.

The sink's clogged again. Great. At first, the water just drains slowly and you ignore it. When it gets worse, you dump some Drain-O down the sink, hoping that will do the job.

No good. In fact, it just gets worse.

You brush your teeth that night, curse and swear about the drain, and go to bed. You'll call the plumber tomorrow.

And then it gurgles. You sit up and stare at your bathroom. Another gurgle. You've had enough, this is getting annoying. Fetching a butter knife from the kitchen, you go to your sink and pry off the drain cover, peering down into hole.

And find a set of blackened, rotted teeth smiling back at you.

Man that was a long night last night wasn't it? Groggy, you get up and stretch, feeling pretty ok. You have a decent breakfast and some coffee. Then you use the bathroom. Toilet seat feels a little colder than normal, but damn its December and isn't it supposed to be cold. You reach for your magazine and settle down.

That's when it strikes you where you are weakest.

You go to visit some relatives in the countryside, and set up in a bedroom facing their driveway. That night as you drift off to sleep you hear a clattering outside. Getting up sleepily, you glance out the window and see an old horse-drawn hearse pulling up. People are sitting all over the thing, glancing around confused.

The driver then looks up at you, smiles pleasantly.

"Room for one more!" He says.

You immediately wake up from this nightmare, feeling unnerved and shaken. Deciding to calm your nerves, you go out to a nearby shopping mall.

After some time spent browsing, you quickly forget your freakish nightmare and decide to take the elevator to the next floor down. You press the button and the door opens to reveal that the elevator is stuffed full of other shoppers. One leans out and says cheerfully; "Room for one more!"

You recognize his face. The driver.

You immediately scream and run. The door shuts behind you and the elevator descends. Suddenly there is a metallic snap and a deafening screech. The elevator snaps free of it's cable and plummets to the ground. Nobody inside survives.

You live in a lovely two story house. The construction is odd, with the bedrooms on the first floor and the kitchen taking up the second level. But it's a nice house and it easily accommodates you and your mother.

One night, just before you lean over to turn off the lamp next to your bed, you hear your mother moving around upstairs.

You think this is strange as she tends to turn in early and has no reason to be using the kitchen sink or clanking dishes.

You become curious and decide to get out of bed. You walk to your doorway and call up the stairs.

"Mom? What are you doing?"

And she answers, from her bedroom, "What?"

Your head whips around to stare at her bedroom doorway not 6 feet from you. You definitely heard her voice from her bedroom...so what's upstairs?

holy crap more.
we've got like. almost every creepypasta ever

The Third of December is coming On the 3rd of December in the evening when it's close to 11:34.. if you just happen to have a hand held mirror, something about the size of your face. Cover your face with the mirror, walk into the bathroom, turn the light on, and stand in front of the mirror. Do this preferably before 11:34, so when 11:34 hits raise the mirror upwards, somewhere about your head. What is in the mirror will not be staring back at you, nor will it be your reflection..

It is preferable you never lower that hand held mirror.. because then it will realize what you've done.....

You're the manager for a small store. You hired one of your friends, and you just found out that he's been stealing from the register, stealing stock, abandoning his post to visit with his girlfriend in the back room while he's the only one on duty, and the argument you had with him at the office just didn't settle it for you. You pound on his door. When he opens up, he goes pale, soils himself, and staggers back, gasping for breath.

It doesn't impress you, really; you figure he just thinks you're showing up with the cops, until you step through his door and glance to the side, where you get a good look at yourself in the mirror.

Or at least, the parts of you that are still recognizable after that shotgun blast that your friend gave you at the end of that argument...

The room is dark. It is always dark. There is one window, but it is never opened. The musty smell of old clothe and rotting insulation waft around in an almost visible cloud.
He thrashes violently about the beams, but it doesn't make the darkness go away. He pulls at the window until his fingers are bleeding. The floors creak beneath his feet as he paces aimlessly about the small space.
His back bent, eyes blank, endlessly watching the one door out. He leans down to scratch at it, but decides instead to topple over a black shrouded object in irritation.
He can no longer speak. His lungs are bloodied from the cloud of insulation hanging in the air around him. No walls, no sighs, no cries for help. The only sounds are the scuffing of his feet against beams and the scratching of his hands against the window.
There is a rumbling below him. He looks darkly at the door, but nothing happens. Again there is a sound. The door begins to move. He looks greedily at the light poring in. Although the room grows steadily lighter, his eyes reflect only darkness. They met the terror-filled eyes of the man holding up the door.

This morning I stepped out of the shower and this bathroom was fine: white walls, white tiles, sink and counter with toothpaste crusted all over. Three out of the four light bulbs over the mirror were still good -- 100 watt, clear bulb, blinding bright in the small white room. Like always I was late, so I skipped shaving. She liked it when I didn't shave, anyway. I was thinking about doing mutton chops. She'd get a kick out of that. I passed the mirror and noticed I was grinning. I didn't even know I was grinning.

I'm in the bathroom tonight before bed and there's something wrong with the lights. All three are on again but they glow kind of brown and don't really light up the rest of the room. I should get more bulbs from the kitchen. I should, but I'm busy. The date was shit and she shut her apartment door on me. You'd think that would wipe off the stupid grin from this morning. But I came back in the bathroom and, in the mirror, my face was still doing it. If I touch my face it doesn't feel like a grin, but there it is in the mirror.

In the brown light it's hard to make out but -- have you ever actually counted how many teeth show when you smile? I lean in close. One, two, three, four -- I didn't know my mouth was so wide. Nine, ten, eleven -- I can't do mutton chops after all. The corners of my lips are out to my ears. It still doesn't feel like a grin. But keep counting, for curiosity. Thirty-six. Thirty-seven. Thirty-eight.

On your way home from work, you find a discarded book. Pages torn and weathering have given it a woebegone look but the writing still appears legible. You pick it up and take it home thinking that it might be worth a read if only for shits and giggles. Once at home you promptly forget about reading it. Days go by without so much as a cursory glance at it. Then, about a month later, you notice the book again but its not the same. Its still the same book. Same looks, same torn pages, same weathered stained cover, but its different. No longer is it the same unassuming book that you picked up off the street. Its changed. Suddenly you feel that feeling of unease that you get when someone is watching you. You shake your head thinking that you just need to go to bed. As the days go by the feeling of "wrongness" that surrounds the book intensifies, and it starts to show. You start eating and sleeping less. Your coworkers notice and start to whisper. Your girlfriend breaks up with you because she thinks you're on smack. Eventually you take some time off from your job citing mental health reasons. As the days stretch into weeks the job hiatus becomes permanent. You stop bothering with bathing and personal hygiene because you rarely go out anymore and when you do its just to buy food. Eventually you stop sleeping all together because whenever you do, you wake up screaming. Day after day you sit in the empty corner watching. Watching it watch you. Soon you stop eating altogether. Eventually you stop blinking.

2 months later the police will knock down your door and find your bloated corpse sitting in the corner of the room with its unceasing gaze pointed to the book on the table. One of the officers will examine your corpse while the other looks at what you were staring at. He picks up the book and turns a few pages before realizing it’s completely blank. Shaking his head, he puts the book down where he found it.

You're slowly stirred awake by the distant ringing as the phone beside your bed pulls you out of your dreams. Your thoughts gather themselves and you groan, reaching over to answer.

As soon as you place the phone to your ear, you're greeted by the background noise consisting of twisted screams. People in agonizing pain begging for help or death, not that the interference allows you to hear any individual voice clearly enough.

<Get out of the house now!>

The call ends abruptly after what you could have sworn was a voice from closer to you than on the other end. You shift yourself to the side of the bed, sighing while rubbing your eyes. A call this startling and this early in the morning would keep you awake.

Your wife shuffles to the side, apparently also woken by the call. She wraps her arms around you and gives a light kiss on the neck.

"Don't worry about it," Her half asleep mumble calms you down somewhat.

Just as you're about to place the phone down, it rings again. You fumble slightly and drop it. Instead, you feel your wife’s arms tighten around you, preventing you from leaning forward.

It's then you notice a subtle difference between the arms around you and the familiarity of your wife’s.

"He's too late to save you anyway."

There was a young couple that had been married for a few years and had been raising a child. Neither spouse particularly liked the other after years of marriage. The fighting was near constant, often coming to blows. Another year of this went by, and during one night, the drunken husband struck and killed the wife with a lamp. However, he was able to hide the body and other evidence from his son and the police, who were unable to get an arrest warrant for him.

The father was coming up with a story to tell his son and to console him about his mother's "disappearance.” When he finally talked to the boy, he realized his son was not at all distraught. He inquired to his son as to why he was not upset; why he didn't miss his mother. His son looked up at him bewildered. "Why would I miss her? You're always carrying her around on your back."

holy win, batman!
more

>>487917
i shat brix

Anyone have moar?
I've run out of sources of creepypasta

>>487953

Time to invent new one?

>>487312

dude....

moar