here's a favorite of mine to start with:


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

>>490202
thats some good creepypasta

>>490202
Best creepypasta.

goddamnit, you people aren't doing anything. I'll proceed to post some creepy, maybe that starts this thread going.

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 after you sign it.

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.

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.

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.

>>490254
>>490232
>>490225
/x/, every post in this thread besides these three were done by mt, the OP. what the fuck is wrong with you today?

it is said in a small town south of Madison, Wisconsin called Stoughton, there is a bridge.

This bridge is just south of a bridge crossing a river on main street, and appears to be a foot bridge made of cement. Crossing this bridge leaves one with an unsettling feeling that slowly escalates to dread. These feelings are easily ignored by those who don't believe. However...

Every year this small town holds a parade, the Syttende Mai Parade, and has been holding this for over 100 years. Long before what it is today, it was dedicated to the evil of that bridge. In 1865 it was a wooden footbridge, where on May 20th, two hundred men were hung by their necks though already well dead, by their wives. They were made to suffer first, slowly bleeding into the river until it ran deep red. Their screams were heard for miles around, as they were ritually sliced open to spill their living bowls into the current of the river below.

Their crime? Nobody knows, all the people involved fled north, and started new homes, new families..new cities..but its said every 150 years..it will happen again.

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.

;_;

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

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

>>490265

I think we should find this lighthouse, and send in a robot to put the book in the right place. Who's with me?

They say that somewhere in western America, some say in Utah, others say on the California coast, there's a small motel on the side of the road. When you go inside, it's decorated in very common hotel attire, with the panelling and old fashioned key-lock doors. The thing is, there's a room in there for everybody. Everybody has a reservation for exactly when they show up, and the number of rooms available is always one more than the number of people there. One person to a room, that is the rule. Some say that the song "Hotel California" is based off this motel, though you *can* leave this particular motel.

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

>>490265
Build a robot to put the book inside. Easy.

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

>>490276
>>490273

Different people, same brain?

>>490276
As if robots cant suffer. Im with PETR and I don't approve of this idea

oh look, I founda funny one

An employee at a frisbee plant had a vision of Christ and was told that he was to be gifted with the power of performing miracles and be the first prophet of Christ since biblical times. When he came out of the vision he felt an immense wave of energy flow through he body. Unfortunately he promptly fell into a vat of hot plastic and was killed instantly. No one was around to witness this event so his body was left to dissolve in the plastic. Now there are exactly 553 frisbees which contain parts of this man. If you collect all of them and methodically eat them until you have absorbed all of the man you will summon the arch-angel Michael who will then do your bidding for 40 days.

>>490272

Hah, that's awesome. I'm gonna try that this weekend, especially since there doesn't appear to be a possible outcome that involves my long, drawn-out death.

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.

The Manhattan Project was started in 1942 to develop the first nuclear explosive for use against the enemies of the U.S. In July 1943, Dr. James Albrecht, one of the project scientists, was accused of spying for the Germans. Albrecht's coworkers noted in interviews that the man "stopped talking to anyone" and "seemed especially aloof, even for a scientist." Just days before his trial, Albrecht disappeared, leaving a wife and two children.

On November 17, 1998, Albrecht suddenly showed up at his younger son's home in Springfield, New Mexico. Upon realizing that the man was his father, Ethan Albrecht, at the time 81 years old, invited him in and tried to figure out what happened. However, within hours of Dr. Albrecht's reappearance, FBI agents arrived and took him away, to his son's protest.

In an interview with a local newpaper, Ethan noted that "[Dr. James Albrecht] hasn't aged a day. He looks as young as my son." The scientist also seemed to suffer from amnesia, constantly asking where his wife was and when his trial is. To this day, the government denies that Albrecht ever existed.

Dr. James Albrecht was 68 years old when he was invited to join the Manhattan Project.

>>490356

This guy just phased through the wall behind you.

>>490200
I wish I was in that picture.

THE PHILADELHPIA EXPERIMENT
According to some accounts, the experiment was conducted by a Dr. Franklin Reno (or Rinehart) as a military application of a Unified Field Theory, a term coined by Einstein. The Unified Field Theory postulates the interrelated nature of the forces that comprise electromagnetic radiation and gravity, although to date no single theory has emerged with a viable mathematical expression. Through a special application of some version of the theory, it was thought possible, with specialized equipment and sufficient energy, to bend light around an object in such a way as to render it essentially invisible to observers. The Navy, which was engaged in World War II at the time, considered this application of the theory to be of obvious military value and approved and sponsored the experiment. A destroyer escort, the USS Eldridge, was allegedly fitted with the required equipment at the naval yards in Philadelphia.

Equipment was further alleged not to have properly been re-calibrated to this end, but in spite of this, the experiment was performed again on October 28. This time, Eldridge is alleged to have not only become almost entirely invisible to the naked eye, but actually vanished from the area in a flash of blue light. However, the U.S. naval base at Norfolk, Virginia, just over 215 miles (346 km) away, is alleged to have reported sighting the Eldridge offshore, whereupon the Eldridge vanished from their sight and reappeared in Philadelphia at the site it had originally occupied, in an apparent case of accidental teleportation.

>>490549

The alleged physiological effects of the experiment on the crew were profound: almost all of the crew were violently ill. Some were alleged to have suffered from mental illness as a result of their experience; behavior consistent with schizophrenia is described in other accounts. Still other members, like Jacob D. Murray, were physically unaccounted for — supposedly “vanished” — and five of the crew were allegedly fused to the metal bulkhead or deck of the ship. Still others were said to fade in and out of sight. Sometimes they would disappear, and burst into flames. Horrified by these results, Navy officials immediately canceled the experiment. All of the surviving crew involved were discharged; in some accounts, brainwashing techniques were employed in an attempt to make the remaining crew members lose their memories concerning the details of their experience.

>>490265

Hypothetically since you're stuck there for all eternity until you remove the book, that implies that you stop aging from the point you put the book on to the bookshelf.

This therotically means that you could use this to travel to the far future!

1. Open a compound interest bank account with a dollar in it.
2. Find said book and said island, go throught the steps listed
3. ????
4. Profit!

>>490232
agreed

bump.

Original pastas accepted? Here's mine:

You are looking around a certain image board online when you saw this cool, creepy image. You dare click it to add it on your folder of morbid and fearful images when the image suddenly turned into a morbid being with plain white eyes and a dreadful scream on its face.

You were so frightened and surprised that you fell to the floor. Then you realize it was a gif image. You laugh at yourself and grabbed the mouse to close the image.

You can't.

You realize that it was actually a dead black blank image.

And what you saw was a reflection.

Adding some of mah own OriginalPasta...

How can you explain a feeling of falling while sitting still?
The sense that your seat is falling away into a void beneath you while all of your readable senses tell you that you are still quite stationary? It's a singular feeling, extremely hard to explain and almost impossible to duplicate: Imagine the little twitch in your stomach when changing direction on a roller-coaster. The kind of pressure on your guts when you are airborne. Now imagine that sensation, coupled with such incongruous sensory input that it forces your mind to swim and bolt awake, snapping you from your sinking state. It's that horrible shock, when you know something is that shouldn't be that destroys your mindframe. It forces you to focus, destroying the 'illusion'.
But you know, in the back of your mind, that you can't be sure it was an illusion. For safety's sake, we compell ourselves to believe that it was just a moment's disorientation, but that itch remains. An itch that begs to be scratched by the darker, perverse parts of our consciousness; The dark, perverse parts that go against all self-preservatory impulses and beg to be shown glimpses of the unknowable...
One could argue that it is those parts that have led Humanity to it's position at the top. It's that thought, upon seeing fire for the first time, of "I wonder...?" instead of "Holy Fucking Shit Fuck!".
It's that Anti-Preservation Impulse that leads us to Itch.
There isn't any proof to support that it was a mild hallucination or disorientation. There isn't any proof that it wasn't, yet we still agree with the latter. And for a simple reason. How could we cope with it if it weren't a disorientation?

>>490550
Source material in my Critical Thinking exam was more brick-shitting than this. Alleged breaking of space-time, and people dying of sheer fright.

>>491567

Ugh, I get that sensation a lot. It creeps me out. I had to get checked out a long time ago because it's a symptom of some sort of tumor or something.

>>491515
never open .gif's in /x/

>>490550
>>490549
saying "allegedly" so much ruins that one

>>491567
i get that stomach feeling when falling great heights in an FPS game

There is an old story about a haunted house, one of the oldest. It regards a man sleeping in an empty room without lights in an empty house, who is suddenly startled from a deep sleep. He craves the comfort of light. There is a candle on the bedside table. The story runs, in it's entirety: "He awakened frightened, and longed for the comfort of candlelight. He reached for a match, and a match was put into his hand."

There have been many, many variations of this story, including: "The last man on Earth is alone in his room. Suddenly, a knock on the door."

>>490273
>>490276
We have to find the damn book first!

>>491970

So, wait, what makes this one book so special? If these books contain all the evil in the world, what is THIS volume about?

>>491973

Spam

>>491973

It's the volume on Religion.

>>491973

is about where the cock goes

>>491973
Last in a set, I guess? Like volume infinity of the Encylopedia Necronomica?

>>491981

So, what does this volume cover? Necromancy? Elder Gods? Artificial cheese?

>>491986
Probably the last. Or just what is currently happening and what is to come. I'd expect it to look leatherbound, but only with human skin, or something.

>>491989

And you'd have to say "Klaatu Barada Nikto" before picking it up?

>>491986

Niggers

>>491995
No, you'd just have to pick the damn thing up. If there is a God, it ain't Lovecraft. It ain't going to make you say soem retarded stuff just to pick up a book. And yes, I said ain't. And I meant it.

>>492001
Some. I know, I was in a hurry. I facepalmed myself when I saw that.

>>491995
Nope, but maybe something more like "Klaatu Verata Nictu". Lol. Not nerd enough.

>>492022

I demand proof of your contradiction! I could of sworn it was spelled the other way.

>>492027
Fuckit, ok, I KNOW the "Klaatu, Verata" part is correct, because.. yeah.. I kind of own an AoD shirt.. but it doesn't say what the "N"word is, and the interwebs has got several opinions.

TL;DR: Has someone got the manuscript for Army of Darkness?

>>492036
No, but I have a boomstick if you like.