>>665749
Of course this isn't the case, though, it’s a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, and 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.

THE MEDIC

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.

THE OTHER WATCHER
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."

>>665758
>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.
Shit just got ridiculous

>>665786
i didnt make them
creepypasta
mmmmmmm

THE CORNER
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.

BABY DOLL
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 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.

THE VOICE
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.

>>665823

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 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, it’s a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, and 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

do you like this or should i stop?

>>665835
Please stop.

THE X-RAY SPECS
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 occurred 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.

GJOBERDIK
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 time span. 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.

THE BAD DREAM
"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.

>>665835

Please continue.

I enjoy these.

>Gjoberdik
>dik

I loled.

REFLECTION
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.

>>665823
>>665826
someone b& this retard

ANGEL
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 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 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 angel statue outside the bedroom window with a blanket or cloth, at the very least close the blinds, 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 angel statue."

The police found all three of the house occupants dead within three minutes of the call. No angel statue was ever found.

>>665882
lol-
Instead of clock i accidentally read "cock"
it makes more sense now.

anyone have any creeypasta that we haven't all read OVER 9000 times?

THE HITCHHIKERS


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…

>>665910
No, thats why its creepypasta.

>>665910
you are free to add anything that you want to this colection

>>665909
HAHAHHAHAHAHA

REMEMBER TO TURN THE LIGHTS ON


I was six, maybe seven years old when this happened. My family had just gotten back from visiting my aunt’s house. My cousins were watching a scary movie in the basement, and even though my parents said I would get scared, I snuck downstairs and watched some of it. I don’t remember what part I saw, but there were little monsters with teeth that would eat people in their sleep.

When we left for home it was dark outside and my parents scolded me for watching that movie. I secretly hoped they would keep scolding me, because I was feeling sleepy and didn’t want those things to eat me. We got home fine and my parents even managed to calm me down enough to the point where when my bedtime came around I could go to sleep.

I fell asleep almost immediately and slept pretty well. I woke up sometime during the night. Knowing where everything is in my house I didn’t turn the lights on, but instead used the street light coming in the windows. I went to the bathroom and then got a glass of water. As I was putting the glass in the dishwasher, something pricked my hand. I pulled my hand back and switched on the lights, but there was nothing in the dishwasher.

I looked at my hand and it had four little indents on the top and bottom where something had broken through the skin. Since that day I’ve had little bumps on my skin where the marks were, and I always remember to turn the lights on.

MY GIRLFRIENDS EYES
It was her eyes that first attracted me to her. I didn’t believe in love, but the
first time I gazed into her beautiful green eyes I knew she was the one.

I loved seeing myself reflected in those eyes, looking deep into her soul and
knowing I was a part of it. It’s kinda stupid, but I even wrote poetry about them. I
don’t remember much, but I told her “There’s so much life within your eyes, and so
much love”.

Oh God, I loved the way the light danced within them. I just couldn’t imagine not
being able to stare dreamily into them.

Now if I could just find a box that was half as beautiful as her eyes, I could stop
carrying them round in my pocket

Post some original content /x/

HOTEL CALIFORNIA

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 paneling 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.

It’s said 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.

>>665931
if you never read it , its original to you

>>665931
NOT POSSIBLE

>>665928
I shat

THE HOUSEBOAT


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

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

Very few people have taken the owner up on offers of hospitality, but those who do recount a wholly unbelievable tale: When you step into the houseboat, it’s as if you’re sent backwards 50 years in time. Looking out windows depicts a cityscape of antiquity and the television receives live broadcasts of programs of the era (including news programs). If you look out the open door, you see the city as it stands today. When the door closes, you can see the 50 year old skyline through the port opening.

>>665928
I lol'd

>>665943
Some visitors who spend time with the owner notice something particularly disturbing: an almost uncanny resemblance to their host, despite obvious age differences. Though this is odd, the owner is friendly and trustworthy (ignoring the air of unease most feel), so it isn’t surprising if casual friendships build between a guest and the proprietor.

All this would, of course, be very strange and worthy of note, but dismissed as some form of elaborate hoax or illusion, if it weren’t for one additional detail. Whenever someone elects to spend the night in this houseboat after an evening of conversation and a few drinks, they are never heard from again.

When the guest awakens in the morning, the owner is nowhere to be found and suddenly, the city skyline never changes back to its contemporary appearance when exiting the boat. Under the bed there is a briefcase full of $100 bills with a letter stapled to a list.

The letter simply reads, “You have 50 years to follow these instructions if you wish to free yourself from this hell. The clock is ticking. Get to work.”

THE MAIL BOX


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

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

But the box is special. Write a letter about your most pressing problems to the persons in charge of dealing with it: write to your significant other, your boss, the IRS, and get it all off your chest. Ride yourself into deep shit with that letter. You’ll see that the problem will dissolve soon, in some way you hadn’t thought likely.

The snag of course is that you can’t really be sure whether you have found the right mail box until you try it. And if you haven’t things are going to get much worse once your letter gets delivered…

KUCHISAKE-ONNA

Kuchisake-Onna is the legend of a Japanese woman, mutilated by her jealous samurai husband who murdered her for infidelity scarring her horribly and leaving her repulsive.

Her jealous Ghost still haunts places in Japan, usually on foggy nights, wearing a surgical mask when she will approach people and ask shyly: “Watashi kirei?” (Am i beautiful?) The person usually responds, yes.

She then pulls down her mask to reveal an ear to ear grin, cut by her jealous husband to mar her for her life. “Even like this?” she will persist. If you answer no. She will take a pair of scissors, and cut the same gruesome smile into your own face. If you answer yes, she will disappear, and the second you go home will reappear at your door and finish the job.

The only way of confusing Kuchisake-Onna is to say: You are average, which will confuse this mysterious Onryo. Or to present her with hard amber candy, or say ‘Pomade’ six times will shall make her flee.

She has been seen from the 1970’s til the early 2000’s, often seen lurking near children whose innocent answer of yes when asked if she is ugly, will lead to their deaths.

THE RED WRISTBAND


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?”

TURN OFF THE LIGHTS WHEN YOU LEAVE


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

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

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

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

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

>>665972

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

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

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

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

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

THE GURGLING 1/?
I live in a small apartment by myself, on the fifth floor. One night, a while back, I heard strange noises coming from down the hall. They weren’t shouts and they weren’t banging noises and they weren’t people fucking. They were weird. They sounded like gurgling. Loud gurgling.

Normally I don’t give a damn about what goes on in the rooms around me; my stance changes when whatever is going on pisses me off. These gurgling noises were doing just that. So, I left my apartment and headed towards the door at the end of the hallway, which seemed to be the source of the sound. I banged on the door and shouted at whoever happened to be in there to shut the hell up.

I stayed in front of the door for a little while to see if the noises would stop. They didn’t. I banged again and shouted again.

I heard a door open behind me, but I didn’t turn around. I knew it was some other stupid tenant who was pissed at me for shouting. Well, I was pissed at the gurgling noises.

>>665980
2/?
I kept banging and banging on the door. I had given up shouting because if I hadn’t, I would be hoarse for a week.

Ten minutes, at least, after I had left my room, the noises were still coming from the room. By now, a few other doors had been opened. I could feel the people around me. I don’t know if they wanted the noises to stop as well or if they wanted the noises I was making to stop.

Nothing was working, and my hand was starting to get numb. I rested for a minute to let my hand get some blood flow. During that time, someone behind me started talking. “Sir,” the person said (I wasn’t paying attention to the voice, so I don’t know if it was a man or a woman), “I think-”

“I don’t care what you think!” I shouted at the person.

The commentator sent me over the edge. I stepped back a bit, nerved myself, and kicked the door as hard as I could.

The door burst open, and I walked inside.

>>665982
3/?
There was nothing. It was a bare room, completely devoid of furniture, curtains, pictures. Everything.

I ran all over the apartment, looking in all the rooms for something, ANYTHING, that could be causing the gurgling noises. All the rooms were the same, with nothing at all inside. I checked the sinks in the bathroom and kitchen, figuring some water problem could be making the noises, but I found nothing. Both sinks ran fine, and the noises didn’t seem to be louder around either sink. In fact, the noises weren’t louder anywhere in the apartment. The noises were the same volume all over the apartment.

I ran out of the room, planning to get on the elevator and check the apartments above and below the one I had just checked, figuring something could be in the ceiling or floor.

>>665985
4/?
I was stopped by the owner of the building as I ran out of the apartment. Two guys grabbed ahold of me and held me, keeping me from moving.

“What’s going, [name removed]?” the owner asked, a very worried look on his face.

I explained the noises to him, as well as how the entire apartment was empty.

The owner shook his head and turned around. I asked him what was wrong. One of the people who had gathered in the hallway while I was beating against the door said, “What noises are you talking about? There are no noises.”

>>665986
5/5
My mother and father came to get me a couple of hours later. I was tied to a chair when they came. The other tenants had tied me up so I wouldn’t hurt myself anymore trying to find the “noises.” It turned out that my hand was badly broken from banging against the door so much. I apparently hadn’t registered the pain.

I got started on electro-shock again shortly afterwards. It seemed to be working. I didn’t think of the noises for the longest time.

Recently, however, I am hearing them again. I know that they aren’t real. I remember the incident at the apartment (which I have just told you), and I remember a similar incident which had occurred years before that one. My brain is simply wired wrong. There are no noises.

I can’t get them out of my head though. They are driving me mad. I have to figure out where they’re coming from. I have to stop them. The goddamned things are driving me nuts.

>>665785
bri/x/ were shat
I had heard other versions with out the second looking in the keyhole

....JUST BE CAREFUL OUT THERE


Many classic horror icons, such as Geger’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?

… Just be careful out there.

THE GROWTHS
I’d had them ever since I was a kid.
I can remember being incredibly self-conscious about them, hiding them in my
pockets under books and bags. The kids at school never said anything to my
face, but I knew they were laughing behind my back.
I remember asking my parents to take me to the doctor, to get them checked
out. The growths on my hands seemed to be the elephant in the room back
then, since they’d just say I was fine and change the subject. But I knew
better.
I had tried to remove them as a child, but without avail. Scissors, knives,

>>666015

potatoe peelers; trying to cut or scrape them off was always a lost cause
because I couldn’t continue once the pain kicked in.
But today was different. It’s amazing how numb you can get with a couple of
tourniquettes and a bottle of Jack Daniels. I was originally planning to use
a sharp knife, but figured that trying to slice through the tough flesh of
the growths would be too arduous in my drunken state. I opted for the
slightly more technological plan B.
I had to hurry though. I was already pretty light-headed and was starting to
feel dizzy. My hands and forearms, nearly blue from the lack of circulation,
couldn’t wait much longer either. The whirring of the blender helped to put
me in a sort of trance–ready to do what I had wanted to do since I first
looked down at my strange deformities.
I shoved my left hand in first. The immediate sensation of sharp blades
slicing through flesh was jarring, but I was surprised at how well the
alcohol was working–I expected it to hurt more. I could hear the sharp
metal churning and cutting, working perfectly as planned. I pressed my hand
down harder. All those bad memories, all of the embarrasment–all of those
horrible things were now nothing more than a thick red pulp.
Breaking from the feelings of ectsasy, I pulled out before the blades hit
knuckle. I smiled, taking a good look at my new hand. As for the
growths–well, five down, and five to go.

THE DEEPEST FEAR


You’ve been dating your girlfriend almost two years now. You often stay late over the summer and on weekends and arrive home long after the rest of your family go to sleep.

Every night you drive the deserted rural roads back home from a pleasant evening at her house you become overwhelmed by fears that you will arrive home to find your family dead in their beds. Each night you peek into your sister’s room and see she’s fine and hear the reassuring rumble of your father’s snore as you pass your parents door.

You chuckle at your silly worries and drift off to sleep. Finally one morning you decide to tell your mother about your late night fears amidst some jovial conversation for a nice laugh. As you tell her a concerned look comes over her face. She sweeps the hair away from her face as she says, “Oh honey, you know we were all shot almost two years ago.”

You scream as you see the gaping bullet hole in her forehead.

>>666004

I think it would be more than one thing.

Sharp teeth are fucking scary. And they hurt.

Ancient stories tell of ghosts which are often described as being pale and other predators are often pale, white skin and fur.

The others could just be common attributes of many different predators. And they are just scary.

But Nazi's are still worse.

>>666015
Growths = Fingers?

>>666033

Growths = PENIS

>>666039
he has 10 penis?

>>666032
Gay Nazis apparently, which are some of /y/´s favourites

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IN THE WORLD
There is a certain website online that seems to serve no purpose. The website is completely black, with nothing to click on, no links, nothing. It is said that if you logged on at exactly 2:59 AM, an image labeled themostbeautifulthingintheworld.jpg will be uploaded and having seen it, you will vanish, never to be seen again. Some say that the picture contains the portrait of a person, whereas others say that the picture is in fact something terrifying. Whatever the case, at exactly 3:00 AM an image will be uploaded that makes you wake up instantly in your bed as if awoken from a dream.

MOONLIGHT FILMS
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.”

>>666081

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.

Item#: SCP-002

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-002 is to remain exposed to a power supply at all times, to keep it in what appears to be a recharging mode. In case of power outage, the emergency barrier between it and the facility is to be closed, and the immediate area evacuated until power is restored. At that point, alternating bursts of X-ray and ultraviolet light will strobe the area until SCP-002 is re-affixed to a power supply and returns to recharging mode. The SCP-002 containment area is to be kept at negative air pressure at all times.

At no time must any individual attendant be left alone inside or in the vicinity of SCP-002. If need be, attendants are encouraged to hold hands at all times to confirm there is another person present. Attendants are to ignore any thoughts of being in the room alone with SCP-002.

Description: We have reason to believe that SCP-002 is but a component of a larger device. See the Mulhausen Report [cross-ref:document00.023.603] for location and circumstances of discovery. In appearance, SCP-002 seems to be a tumorous, fleshy growth roughly with volume of 60 m³ (2000 cubic feet). An iron valve hatch on one side leads into its interior, which appears to be a standard low-rent apartment, complete with window looking out into the room, despite no such opening visible from the exterior. The room contains furniture which, on close inspection, is made of sculpted bone, woven hair or other biological substances that all share the same DNA sequence.

Additional: As to date, SCP-002 has been deemed responsible for the deaths of seven attendants. It has also in its time at the facility further furnished itself with two lamps, a throw rug, a television, a radio, a beanbag chair, three books in an unknown language, four children's toys, and what appears to be half a potted plant. Each time SCP-002 kills, new furniture appears. Testing on releasing animals into SCP-002's room has revealed nothing. Whatever process SCP-002 uses to convert live subjects into furnishings, it doesn't seem to target unintelligent life.

>>666050
WHAT A TWIST!

Item #: SCP-173

Object class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-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 maintain direct eye contact with SCP-173 until all personnel have vacated and relocked the container.

Description: Moved to Site19 1993. Origin is as of yet unknown. It is constructed from concrete and rebar with traces of Krylon brand spray paint. SCP-173 is animate and extremely hostile. The object cannot move while within a direct line of sight. Line of sight must not be broken at any time with SCP-173. Personnel assigned to enter container are instructed to alert one another before blinking. Object is reported to attack by snapping the neck at the base of the skull, or by strangulation. In the event of an attack, personnel are to observe Class 4 hazardous object containment procedures.

Personnel report sounds of scraping stone originating from within the container when no one is present inside. This is considered normal, and any change in this behaviour should be reported to the acting HMCL supervisor on duty.

The reddish brown substance on the floor is a combination of feces and blood. Origin of these materials is unknown. The enclosure must be cleaned on a bi-weekly basis.

>>666100
Go back to bed, Shyamalan.

THE BAD IDEA


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. Hurriedly, 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.”

>>666107
it's old, but it's really still the best.

IM YOUR PROBLEM NOW


On any night with a crescent moon, open Winamp or any other music program you might have on your computer that has a shuffle program. Empty your mind and keep clicking the forward button. If you’re rather unlucky a song named “I’m your problem now.mp3? will start playing. For the first minute it will be completely silent.

Close your eyes when the screams start and DO NOT OPEN THEM FOR ANY REASON. Horrible imagery will fill your mind, of corpses and unimaginable evil. This will happen as a full seven minutes of this song’s horrible symphony of screams and sounds continues.

IF you make it through those torturous seven minutes, you will wake up on a bench in a deserted greyhound station. A faceless man at the other end of the station will offer you a cigarette. If you don’t accept it, your eyes will open and the song will be gone and no time will have past. If you choose to accept it, however, this man will divulge to you the secrets of life.

After you’re done smoking, take the ticket out of his pocket and board the bus coming into the station. You will awake back in your house, and exactly twelve minutes will have passed since you started listening. The problem is that anyone who’s survived the song goes insane from the information they’ve just learned.

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

>>666116
Old?
This particular creepypasta has only come about in the past few months.

ONE MORE FOR THE ORPHAN
In a small orphanage in a small village in Russia, there is a young boy. His hair is jet black, and messy, and he tattered jeans and an old dingy grey shirt.
Nothing is known of him. For 10 years, he sat in the bed in his room, never moving, never blinking, never eating or sleeping. In the 10 years, he has not seemed to age at all, continuing to look like a 7 year old boy. The only thing that proved he was alive is the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, and the refusal to take his eyes off anyone who enters the room alone.
A lone psychiatrist came over in an attempt to find out why the boy had done nothing in 10 years. He entered the room, and shut the door behind him.
30 minutes later, the orphanage’s nurse came to check on the 2 of them. Opening the door, she saw the child, still sitting, still not moving, eyes fixed on her. However, something seemed different. He appeared a slight amount larger, not by much, but enough to make him look like a late 8 or early 9 year old. The psychiatrist was no longer in the room. The door was the only exit, as the room had no windows, vents, or anything, and it was, in fact, in the exact 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 know quite noticeably bigger, about the size of a 15 year old. His skin was darker than usual, and he looked angrier than ever. But one thing remained the same: His cold, unforgiving eyes that stared at whoever entered.
Eventually, the law organized a large group of 10 officers to speak to the boy. They entered the room, and left the door open, until one of the younger orphans ran up and shut it, apparently in a daze.
The head quickly ran to re-open the door, and upon doing so froze him in horror. A low rumbling noise came from the room….

“…..One….more….”

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

“…..One…..more….”

This is not a random post. This is not a coincidence. I put this here because I know that right now you will be reading it. No one can see this post except for you.

There is a monster in your home. It is there right now and it is waiting to kill you. It will kill you tonight. I can save you.

Go to a mirror. That in there, that’s me. Turn off all the lights except for the dimmest one; too much light screws it up. Take your arms, put them straight out, and put them up against mine, through the glass. Do your best to relax, and when you are ready, close your eyes. Count to three and then I will pull you through to safety. We can work out what to do next once you’re in.

Again, this is not a random post. It is for YOU. You need to do this before the next hour turns or you will die.

I’m waiting.

THIS IS JUST A TEST
You’d fallen asleep to late-night television, but curiously woke up to the sounds of the static playing on the T.V. As you sit up, rubbing your eyes, you read the scrawling words of the Emergency Broadcast System “This is just a test - This is just a test - This is just a test…” You glance at the clock. 3:33. Yawning, the television catches your eye, and as you watch, the EBS say something different, “This is just a test - This is just a test - You are being watched - This is just a test…”

>>666131
okay, i'll get right on that lol

THE TATTOO
You wake after a wild night of partying to find that while you were wasted, for some reason
you had a crude smiley face tattooed on your foot. You write it off as a lesson to never drink that much again. The next time you wake, however, you discover the face is now on your ankle, and it’s not as crudely drawn. The day after that, it’s on your lower leg, and it’s starting to look more like a drawing of a real face. As it continues to move up and become more realistic looking, you wonder what happens when it reaches your own face.

>>666122

You mean the Mindless Self Indulgence song?

Yeah, it's not great.

But 7 minutes of screaming... not quite.

WATCH OUT FOR THE...WAIT, WHAT?


Driving home at night, you notice that all the lights in your house/apartment are on. As you park the car, they all turn off at the same time. The house is empty and the doors are locked from the inside.

You check your watch. The big hand is on the 4, the little hand is on the 1. You’ll be late for work.

At work, you find an email in your inbox. The sender is yourself. Puzzled, you open the e-mail you apparently sent to yourself. Inside is the message “the out for watch watch.”

You look at your watch. The little hand is on the 4, the big hand is on the 1. You look back at the screen. The fourth and first words have swapped places. “watch out for the watch.” You look at your watch again.

Your watch is digital.

>>666131
Just as I read this my 3lbs ferret jumped out and bit my toe.
Pic is him a while ago...much bigger and scarier now.

THE ALTERNATES DEATH


You know when you’re falling asleep, and you suddenly get the feeling that you’ve tripped? You’re body lurches forward in an instant, ready to protect you instinctively from injury. You can almost SEE the ground rising to meet you. This occurs when the boundaries between you and the “you” in an alternate universe are weakest.

This is the feeling that happens when another “you” dies.

NEGATIVE GATE
Look behind you. What do you see?
Invariably, there will be a wall somewhere in your view. Now stare deeply into the space on the wall that lines up best with your eyes. Nothing will happen, but makes sure you are clear on where this particular spot is.
That spot contains all the negativity in your mind. Whenever you are on your computer, reading scary stories or whatever you do, sometimes you will get spooked.
What do you do when this happens? You check behind you, that’s what you do. As you read this now, a feeling of dread will come over you.

Check the spot.

Nothing again, huh?

That’s because right now, all the evil is locked safely in your mind. Some people, upon learning of this “negative spot” resolve to remove the spot in an attempt to remove the negative energy. This is a grave mistake.
You must never let harm come to this spot. If you do, you will have released the energy. Now when you sit at your computer at night, you will feel chills even in the summer time. The feeling of dread that only presented itself when you were genuinely scared will now hang in the air constantly. Within a week you and your loved ones will have a string of bad luck.

Within a month your computer will begin to act erratic and eventually break down. On the anniversary of the spots destruction, you will dream of your most horrible fears.
The dream will seem to go on forever, and when you wake up you will notice your vision has darkened. Every year on the same day, the dream will repeat itself, and your vision will grow darker and darker.

After you go completely blind, don’t ever turn your back on that spot again. That is, if you can still tell where it is.

>>666107

Where do these stories come from?

They are exciting.

THE SMILING MAN 1/5
When I was younger, I lived with my father and his mother. I was the only child, a girl at that, and my father was very protective of me. My grandmother, on the other hand, hated me. At first, she would just yell at me and shove me around when dad was at work. It escalated, quickly after he started working longer house to make ends meet. I rarely saw my father at that point. For 4 years, she did things I can’t even bring myself to really think about, not enough to write it. For those 4 years, I prayed and prayed for release. I prayed and wished for her to die. To God, to whoever would listen. My dad probably would have believed me if I’d had a chance to talk to him, but she’d made me feel as though I were an abomination over the years that, I couldn’t bear it anymore. After she killed my kitten and made me bury it, at the age of 13, I attempted suicide by hanging myself inside my closet.

2/5
Apparently, I didn’t know what the fuck I was doing and the bar in the closet that I tied myself to fell on my head and knocked me the fuck out. I pulled myself up and headed to sneak into the bathroom without the monster cunt to catch me and give me another beating. As I left my bedroom, I caught a whiff of something very fucking rancid, like vomit, burning flesh, and blood, mixed together, warm. I knew all of these smells fairly well, considering what my grandmother did to me, and I thought for a moment it might have been my imagination, or her making something disgusting for me to eat to torture me more. While I recognized the seperate smells in a way, I’d never smelled something like this.

>>666185
SCP series.
It isn't all that great.

3/5
As I got closer and closer to the stairs overlooking the living room, which was right across from the bathroom, I started to hear something. Faintly, I remember hearing it a few feet back, but suddenly it seemed so much louder. My head was pounding, my heart was pounding, and all I could hear was gurgle, smack smack, squish squish, RIIIIIIIIIP. The mere idea of peeking over the stairs and into the living room was suddenly so profoundly frightening that I almost just went back into my bedroom, but strangely enough, it was amazingly easy to just do it anyway.

What I saw in the living room will never leave me for as long as I live, in more than one sense.

My grandmother was lying on the ground. There was someone wearing black kneeling over her. They were both covered in blood. The person’s head was moving rhythmically over its hands, which held what I the relized was some organ in her body. The person didn’t look up, and I was scared silent.

4/5
There was so much blood. So, so much blood.

The sound of gnawing, the smacking mouth, the snapping of her organs at they were ripped from my grandmother’s body (what was left of it), the brutally grotesque sight of her chest cavity having been torn open, of her body being consumed little by little filled me with terror I had never known before. I didn’t know what to do. It ate her body, slowly, seeming to enjoy every bite it took, its body swaying and moving so unnaturally that I couldn’t even think it was human.

I couldn’t stop watching, I couldn’t run away, the sheer terror of it choked the scream I would have let out. It stopped, I stopped. It looked up at me after what seemed an eternity, releasing the contents of its mouth. Gorey pieces and blood, some brown at that point, covered most of its face. What I could see of the face, it seemed to be male, very pale in patches. Where eyes were supposed to be were black pits, pits that seemed to dilate, expand and retract. He had no lips, but his mouth twitched, like some kind of hologram going in and out, slowly smiling, the smile expanding beyond normal human ability. I vomited and fainted.

5/5
I woke up, my father was home and worrying over me. My grandmother’s body was gone along with all of the blood. “Where’s grandma? Where is she?” I kept asking him, until I had to stop, from the look in his eyes. He told me her heart was bad, and she was “in heaven now”. I couldn’t believe it. That was impossible, right? Did I imagine that whole thing?

At her funeral, on the way to her burial site, I saw the man again. He looked more human, but I knew it was him. I remembered that smile. That day, I smiled back.

I still have dreams about that man, sometimes I think I see him in public. Even when I don’t see him, I can feel him there. He’s always there, watching me.

>>666185
YOU WANT MORE
I GIVE YOU MORE
and ya
it is so so

Item#: SCP-004

Object Class: Euclid

Clearance: Level 1 (For clearance into affected area), Level 4 (For use of SCP-004-2)

Special Containment Procedures: Proper procedure for handling of SCP-004-2 is vital. The keys must never be off-site unless accompanied by level 4 personnel. Also SCP-004-2 must never be taken through SCP-004-1. The effects of taking SCP-004-2 through SCP-004-1 are not currently known, and we can't afford to experiment in order to find out. Assuming any one of the SCP objects contained within ever managed to escape confinement or our facility is breached, along with the immolation and destruction of the whole facility the keys are also to be brought inside and the doors closed behind the guard with the keys. Guards who accidentally take the keys home are subject to immediate termination.

Description: SCP-004 is a set of 12 rusted keys and an old wooden barred door.

07/16/1949: After careful consideration of the facts, the juvenile suspects in police custody were terminated.

08/02/1949: Area is removed from all maps and made off limits to civilians. Tests begin to determine safety of exposure to environment behind SCP-004-2.

12/01/1950: SCP-004-1 and SCP-004-2 are put on standby until further notice after time-space anomalies are confirmed as a result of exposure.

03/21/1999: With the massive proliferation of nuclear weapons and World War III only 13 years away, SCP decides to begin building a site inside SCP-004-2. A place to back up data and survive the war should it occur.

09/25/2000: Site 62 operational. Labs and containment units are constructed within to contain the most dangerous specimens and back up data in event of full scale nuclear war.
[edit]
Effects of Exposure

This facility seems to propagate time-space anomalies. Personnel leaving the facility report losing time. They swore that they had only been in the facility for a few days, but would report the time gone actually being a few weeks.

As of 01/25/2001, all personnel working at site 62 are required to reside on site permanently. Families of personnel are to be sent a letter claiming their loved one perished in an industrial accident. Fake funeral will be provided by SCP and will be closed casket.
[edit]
Further Notes

From our studies on the door and the set of keys so far it has been revealed that 10 of the keys open a door to a dimension(s) where beings of our composition meet physics their bodies weren't conditioned to survive. The test subjects were torn apart, with body parts deposited in various locations with only two verified points on our planet, the location of the other 8 are currently unknown. Tests continue to find ways of surviving the entry of the room, as well as the discovery that there are other doors that the keys open [See Appendix B: SCP-004-3 - SCP-004-5].

Appendix A

Mental Health Effects of Key 11: All Class D personnel sent through portal 11 using the 11th key come back in a catatonic state unable to speak if at all. Some may have enough energy left to try to claw out their eyes. Of the 16 subjects, only 4 came back. Only one was able to speak again eventually after massive psychotherapy. He was able to tell the psychiatrist that he saw a massive, green creature so large that he couldn't see most of its body. In its presence he said he felt a innate fear and sudden recognition as if of something buried deep in his primal fears. In that instant the subject claims his mind was raped and horrible memories of a past he couldn't even comprehend were ejaculated into his fragile human mind. The subject shows an inability to remember anything except the images burned into his mind by the creature in portal 11.
[edit]
Appendix B

Item#: SCP-004-3

Date of Discovery: 09/02/1950

Origin of Object: Object was discovered elsewhere in Factory area, in the previously undiscovered Manager's Office.

Description: Object appears as a small, unvarnished 6' X 4' tall box, unlockable by the determined "Safe" key, as well as five of the previously-determined "Unsafe" keys. [See Document SCP-004-1]

Upon unlocking object SCP-004-3 with the "Safe" key, the box opens automatically on hinges, revealing a space inside determined to be five times precisely the outer dimensions. Items placed inside while the lid remains open do not affect the weight, temperature, or features of the box. When the lid is closed and locked, then re-opened, all items inside are no longer present. Items "disappeared" in this way are irretrievably lost. Personnel locked inside the box are also irretrievably lost, though for an unexplained reason this profoundly affects the dreams experienced by SCP-640 subjects.

THE WELL


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” and 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 new notch in it’s handle. To date, there are 48 notches in the handle.

THE FREAK SHOW


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 and 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.

>>666199

MOAR MOAR MOAR!

this better be here for me tomorrow

Item#: SCP-640

Object Class: Euclid

Special containment procedures: At least one volunteer is to remain in proximity of the event SCP-640 at all times. At least one psychologist is to remain on site at all times. Security level 1-RED is to be maintained at all times in Sector 14. No unauthorized personnel is allowed in proximity of SCP-640 under any circumstances. No unauthorized personnel is allowed to sleep in proximity of event SCP-640 under any circumstances. All personnel on site should observe standard level 1-BLUE security protocol, unless commanded otherwise by their superior.

>>666211
moar also

Description: SCP-640 is a continuous event of immense strategic importance, centered on the location of what is now known as Sector 14. It has been established that it is not generated by any object. Any endeavor to move the event by transporting objects on site or even layers of earth did not cause its area of effect to shift, yet caused changes in experiences generated by SCP-640. The effects of SCP-640 can be described in layman's terms as prophetic dreams concerning series of events leading to a XK class end of the world scenario.

Any volunteers entering the REM phase of sleep in the area of effect of SCP-640 report having the same dream documenting the appearance of figure described as "Satan" (see XK-442a), "the Antichrist" (see XK-443), or any number of other world-destroying entities, and a voice, source unseen, explaining the dream as "recorded for purposes of causality violation" (see Rec 1273/SCP-640). It has been established that events in the dream change in subtle ways. It is theorized that even by knowledge of the dream alone, its outcome can be changed (see Appendix F - Events tied to SCP-640).

Volunteers should be rotated when any signs of distress appear, as the effects of SCP-640 are quite traumatizing. Each dream should be recorded immediately after waking, with as many details as can be remembered. Psychologist should be available to speak with volunteers, as prolonged exposure to SCP-640 has been observed to be harmful to mental health.

>In that instant the subject claims his mind was raped and horrible memories of a past he couldn't even comprehend were ejaculated into his fragile human mind.

I lol'd heartily.

AN APPLE A DAY KEEPS THE DOCTOR AWAY


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.

>>666079

> an image labeled themostbeautifulthingintheworld.jpg will be uploaded.

You mean this picture?

Item #: SCP-097

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-097 is located in the director's office. Any personnel with clearance are welcome to deposit a coin.

Description: SCP-097 is an antique, iron-cast mechanical bank in the shape of an African-American stereotype (black face, big smiling red lips, large white teeth) that was popular with children around the turn of the 20th century. A right arm sticks out with an open palm, where any denomination of coin is placed and the arm pushed down, released, flipping the coin into the bank's "mouth".

If an American coin minted between 1865 to present is used with this device, anyone present can faintly hear the hum and music of old Negro spirituals for around thirty seconds. Any coin minted before 1865 will elicit screams interspersed with the cracking of whips and cursing, along with the sounds of a fire raging. Very rarely, these vintage coins will result in what sounds like voodoo chanting and singing.

Addendum [SCP-097b]: Attempts to find the source of the sounds have proven inconclusive. The donor of SCP-097 ??????? ????? gave no information on the item in question, stating only on his wanting to be rid of it. The donor ??????? ????? died shortly after SCP-097 left his possession, his body found infested with flies of an unknown species. It is unknown the relation the flies have to to SCP-097 but on testing the item it seems nonthreatening to anyone, making the donor's death unsolved.

>>666235
wait... the ending? EXPLAIN?

>>666198
LOL ALUCARD

The Unremarkable Service Station


In Central Australia, there is an unremarkable service station along a straight and barren stretch of road. If you walk straight in and ask for the key, you will be given an unremarkable key attached to an unremarkable piece of wood. The key will unlock a door at the service station, leading to an impossibly long stepped corridor, dimly lit from an unseen source. If you follow these stairs, you will begin to hear hungry cries of birds of prey that grow louder as you descend. After an amount of time, the light will vanish, leaving you in the dark, and a rasping voice will ask for your desires. For each desire, you will experience all the sensations, unforgettable, branded into your memory, of bodily mutilation, of being torn asunder by impossible strength, of having an arm slowly flayed, each nerve individually pulled from your flesh. You may speak as many desires as your sanity can take. Then you must turn and return up the steps and never look back. Return the key and go about your life. Your desires will be granted, but you will always have to live with the memories given to you in that dark place.

IMMAGINATION


There it goes again. Something definitely moved this time. It was very brief, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw something. But wait. All the doors are locked, no pets, and your parents won’t get home until 10. So there’s no way something moved. It’s just your imagination getting the best of you. Sitting alone in your room, the only light emitting from the monitor of your computer, you stare into the darkness for several minutes. Just to be sure. Now you feel silly. What were you thinking? Of course there’s nothing there. What, are you 6? Go back to what you were doing.

15 minutes later, as you prepare to go to bed, you’re in the bathroom. The shower curtains shift. Wait… no. Stop spooking yourself. It’s just an overactive imagination, filling your head with what isn’t really there. You gaze into the mirror at yourself. You say it to yourself, slowly and clearly, “Imagination.” With a sigh, you turn the lights off and head towards your room.

Laying in bed, you stare at your ceiling, dark and foreboding, only the motion of a small fan disturbing the calmness of the night. A shadow from the light in the hall shifts. No. No, no, no. Stop it. It’s your imagination. Just that. Go to sleep, you fool.

But then, just when you’re about to drift off to sleep, at the phase no one remembers when they wake, you sense something in the darkness. It’s your imagination, leering down at you. With a jagged, macabre smile.

http://paranormal.about.com/od/demonsandexorcism/a/aa031405.htm

RUSSIAN EXORCISM PART 1

A sixteen-year-old girl sits in a chair in a Russian Orthodox Church. She is being held down by her mother. Light filters in from high windows and the air is thick with tension and the smell of holy incense. A priest stands over her reading the rite of exorcism. The girl squirms in her mother’s arms, groaning and growling as if the priest’s words were a torment to her mind and soul. The girl struggles violently, her groans becoming inhuman howls and deep, guttural moans of psychological pain. Then she lashes out at the priest, and in a voice that seems not to be her own, spits words of defiance.
This is not a scene from a Hollywood production. This is a partial description of an actual exorcism that took place in a Russian parish on May 1, 2004.
Eugene did not know the girl in this case personally, but as an assistant to an exorcist in the diocese he attends many of the “deliverance services” that take place in various parishes across Russia. This is how he came to record this exorcism, which was conducted by Father Basil.

>>666258

RUSSIAN EXORCISM PART 2

The deliverance ministry in Russia, Eugene explains, is relatively new, but growing. It is similar to such ministries in the Anglican Church in England, which has a long tradition. In Russia, these ministries are becoming more organized, working with open-minded psychiatrists and other medical professionals for people who come to them (or are brought to them) with significant problems.
How the girl came to be possessed is not known. Eugene did not have an opportunity to speak with the girl or her mother, but as he understood it, she had some involvement with the occult, either in practice or she consulted with an occult practitioner.
The people who go to such practitioners go for personal advice, much as people go to storefront “psychic readers” in the U.S. They claim to be able to rid their customers of curses and such. “The problem is,” Eugene says, “things go wrong and can make a problem much worse” for someone who might have a psychological problem. It may be an entry point for the diabolic.

After this exposure to the occult, the girl’s mother noticed a radical change in her daughter’s behavior and brought her to the deliverance service. (It is not known what kind of medical or psychiatric treatment, if any, was sought first.)

THE MUMMIFIED HEAD
In a cave, somewhere, is a severed mummified head.
If you remove your own head and replace it with the severed mummified one, you will be imbued with immeasurable arcane power.

>>666260

RUSSIAN EXORCISM PART 3

Besides individual exorcisms, Russian parishes offer open deliverance services to which any number of people can come. A less formal rite is conducted at these services.
There are similar ministries in the U.S., such as Bob Larson Ministries among others, whose exorcising services are even televised. During the ceremony, audience members who supposedly have demons in them spontaneously jump up, begin shouting, babble in incoherent language or go into spasms until the minister casts the demons out (and then asks for donations, of course).
In Russia, Eugene has witnessed unusual things at these open deliverance services. He says he has seen demons speaking [through people] to one another in the church. "The demons use the people's voices and speak to one another in the church and also discuss things that the people in which they live could not possibly know," Eugene says.
In the case of the sixteen-year-old girl, she was in a one-on-one session with Father Basil. Watching from just several feet away, Eugene could see that the girl possessed extraordinary strength as her mother struggled to keep her seated. As can be heard on the recording, her voice changed radically. Her face contorted and displayed “total hate” for the priest as she cursed at him.

>>666262

RUSSIAN EXORCISM PART 4

Toward the end of the recording, the girl, with an unearthly voice, shouts something in Russian at the priest. The translation, Eugene says, is, “I am not leaving her! I am not!”
The demonic voice sounds like something right off the soundtrack of The Exorcist. Was the girl imitating the Linda Blair character in the movie? Eugene, who has been assisting in these exorcisms for several years, does not think so. Those movies are not well known in Russia, he says.
Although the exorcism lasted about a half hour, Eugene says that it was not a success, and he didn’t know if the girl and her mother would seek further treatment.

This is not a random post. This is not a coincidence. I put this here because I know that right now you will be reading it. No one can see this post except for you.

There is a monster in your home. It is there right now and it is waiting to kill you. It will kill you tonight. I can save you.

Go to a mirror. Any mirror. That in there, that's me. Turn off all the lights except for the dimmest one; too much light screws it up. Take your arms, put them straight out, and put them up against mine, through the glass. Do your best to rlax, and when you are ready, close your eyes. Count to three and then I will pull you through to safety. We can work out what to do next once you're in.

Again, this is not a random post. It is for YOU. You need to do this before the next hour turns or you will die.

I'm waiting.

THE SOFT PLACE
There is a special word in each holy book of all the great religions; The Koran, The New Testament, The Torah, The Bhagavad Gita; and nine other forgotten books spoke of in the Dead Sea Scrolls. If all these words can be collected and spoken backwards in their native tongue, then you will vanish to Elysia, the most beautiful of the heavens. You can stay forever, or return to Earth. If you stay too long, you will forget your life, but if you leave, you will have to kill a child at each full moon to survive. However, while you live you will have untold power over the secrets of the Earth. You will also know the location of “The Soft Places”, the lands between dreams and waking.

MEREANA MORDEGARD GLESGORV

There is a video on YouTube named Mereana Mordegard Glesgorv. If you search this, you will find nothing. The few times you find something, all you will see is a 20 second video of a man staring intently at you, expressionless, then grinning for the last 2 seconds. The background is undefined. This is only part of the actual video.

The full video lasts 2 minutes, and was removed by YouTube after 153 people who viewed the video gouged out their eyes and mailed them to YouTube’s main office in San Bruno. Said people had also committed suicide in various ways. It is not yet known how they managed to mail their eyes after gouging them out. And the cryptic inscription they carve on their forearms has not yet been deciphered.

YouTube will periodically put up the first 20 seconds of the video to quell suspicions, so that people will not go look for the real thing and upload it. The video itself was only viewed by one YouTube staff member, who started screaming after 45 seconds. This man is under constant sedatives and is apparently unable to recall what he saw. The other people who were in the same room as him while he viewed it and turned off the video for him say that all they could hear was a high pitched drilling sound. None of them dared look at the screen.

The person who uploaded the video was never found, the IP address being non-existant. And the man on the video has never been identified.

“Normal” People

There are people that have no paranormal abilities what-so-ever. They can't run faster than a blink of an eye or lift unfathomable amounts. The only thing that throws them off from the norm is that they don't pre-meditate at all. Very little thought goes into their lives. They are normal people that snapped and want to survive at any cost. Mislabeled as sociopaths with extreme emotional control; they simply react. But they don't feel anything but the need to survive. You can get them to show themselves by giving them a completely open topic and not reacting to anything they say or do. They'll go from laughing, crying, screaming to completely blank. They might run, or they might attack you for finding them out. They can be anyone, anywhere doing anything to blend in with all the thinking people of the world.

Remember, there is a blind spot right under your chin and it only takes 4 pounds of force to sever you breathing passages. Just smile and nod the next time someone walks past you.

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

>>666107
Is it just me, or does the thumbnail look like a dog sticking its left legs and head out, as if to say "A master is out."?

>>666282
i am searching that right now

>>666283
>>666264
im glad SOMEONE ELSE is picking this up
i was getting tiard

>>666293
I always thought it looked like that until like a month ago.

THE BARON
An odd occurrence 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.

HIS TRUE NAME


Although the Jewish omnipotent entity we refer to by tradition as God was first called Yahweh (I am) by the Israelites, legend has it that the high priest of Israel passed from one to another his true name, made up of 72 Hebrew letters that, when spoken, would summon his presence before the speaker. This was required for their annual ritual of asking for forgiveness of the nation’s sins - by asking face to face.

So what would happen if you found this combination? And what could you petition? Well, Jesus did provide a warning, “Fear not those who can destroy the body and then do no more…fear him who, after killing the body, can destroy the soul.” (Luke 12:4-5)

DEEPER DARKNESS


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…

THE MIRROR


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.

>>666306
FEAR THE EMPEROR

THE VOID


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.

SARAH


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.”

THE OTHER EARTH


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.

THE LIGHT HOUSE


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.

>>666330

I actually tried that one.

THE EMPTY VIAL


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.

Once, there was a boy who loved to read. He read everything he could get his hands on, and loved going to his favorite book store. One day, the boy realized he had read everything the store had to offer. He confronted the owner, and asked him if he had anything the boy had never checked out. The owner said why, yes, I do, and pulled out a book called “Death”. He gladly sold it to the boy at a discounted price of 50$.

However, he warned the boy, never to read the front page. Well, the boy returned to his house and read the book, and he was content. However, he always wondered, what could be on that front page, it was always in the back of his mind. One day, the temptation was too much for the boy, and he flipped to the very front of the book, and dropped the book in HORROR.

There, in bold print, was MSRP 7.99$
lol

Reply Internet Explorer 3 When using Internet Explorer 3 for Windows (google around for a version that works on Windows XP), enter this in the address bar (do not copy-paste, you must input it with the keyboard):
for-you://gratitude-and-remembrance

Wait ~ 40 seconds. You will feel strange. Don’t fight the feeling, or you will be jerked out of it, and you have only one chance to do this.

A weblog will appear. It will contain events that will happen for the seven next years of your life.

Add /admin/ to the address bar. Try to guess the password your future self would have chosen. There is always a way - discovering it is never out of your reach even if it’s a meaningless string of letters.

Once you have access to the admin, you can delete any post you want, and that event will never happen to you.

However, UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES you are to edit a post. JUST DON’T.

You have only one hour to do it: after that the connection will be lost.

THE ARGUMENT


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…

Item # SCP-091

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-091 is stored in a modified subterranean arboretum.

Containment zone is to remain lighted at all times. Four hydrargyrum medium-arc iodide lamps are to be active from 00:00 GMT until 16:00, at which point they are to be deactivated in sequence as the corresponding eight sodium vapor lamps are activated until 00:00 GMT. Lights must be replaced at the approximate time of bulb half-life, and only during the artificial nocturnal cycle.

Soil levels are to be kept at approximately one meter depth and Ph levels are to be monitored daily for any irregularities. Provided compost is to be placed in the containment zone at the beginning of each lunar month. Compost is to be inspected before and after delivery by two senior ranking science officers to ensure safety procedures have been followed and to prevent any further containment issues caused by tampering. Provided compost is to be placed no closer than three meters from Item SCP-091. Under no circumstances should Item SCP-091 be touched. In such event, emergency defoliant protocols are to be followed and attending staff and all personal effects are to be immolated.

Containment area is lined with 15mm of lead. There is to be around the clock external monitoring for any breach of containment. In event of breach, emergency defoliant protocols are to be followed.

All male staff are to undergo weekly medical inspections. In the event of compromise, level four quarantine procedures are to be initiated. Compromised staff and all personal effects must be destroyed by complete immolation. Male staff are forbidden from entering the containment zone and are to be rotated on a quarterly basis, remaining in quarantine two weeks before and after assignment.

Description: SCP-091 is, for all intents and purposes, a deciduous tree, approximately 4 meters in height with a variable of approximately +/-50 centimeters in synchronization with the lunar cycle.

Despite classification as flora, SCP-091 displays prominent feminine characteristics. Object is not known to move or grow on currently formulated compost diet unless in the presence of a male staff member. SCP-091 has displayed no reproductive qualities in the form of fruit, flowering or seeds as yet. Atmospheric and controlled physical analysis also confirms a lack of soil- or air-borne spores.

SCP-091 has displayed infectious qualities in the past and should be treated as a Class 8 Biological Vector.

Officers with Level 4 clearance should refer to Document SCP-091b for further data.

You know what's fucking sad? You can find all the fucking Holder stories by searching "if you".

Holder stories are GAY. Because "I WON'T"

>>666407
request granted
The following notes were found next to the body of a blind man, his body chewed on by numerous cats that found their way into his apartment. There was also a series of large gashes next to the man's body as though something had cut the hardwood floors, nearly two inches deep and as long as an arm. The man's body was undamaged by whatever caused the gashes. Medical examiners who examined the body were unable to find any cause of death, and aside from the cats that ate parts of his corpse the man showed no signs of death, not even rigor mortis. It's been said that the body was sent to the lead government of whatever country the man was found (reports differ, some say the United Kingdom, others the Former Soviet Republic, Australia, China, and of course the United States.) but was lost, or disappeared, in transit. The notes, however, remain, though none can speak for their authenticity.

"Hidden around the world are a group of Objects, seemingly chosen by some higher power in an arbitrary fashion. Some say that when the Objects are brought together, the world as we know it will end, and some say the world will truly begin. Whatever the purpose, a random sampling of the population has been driven to find these things, either to Protect them, Destroy them, or Reunite them. These people are gifted from birth by a preternatural desire, an obsession some might say, to go forward with this goal. Many would die to accomplish their goal. Many more would kill. These are the Seekers, their gift is their curse, their only lot in life is to find the Objects. Anyone who comes into contact with an Object with knowledge of what it is runs the risk of becoming one of the Seekers. The lucky ones are satiated by a single, simple, Object. Others spend their life searching. The Objects themselves can be anything. From something as simple as a thumbtack to something as complex as a living creature. Though some are used by Seekers whose wicked souls taint the Objects (though some say the opposite is true), all of them can be used for the greater good or personal gain. There are rules though: A Seeker can never give an Object away, it can only be taken by force, earned fairly, or the owner must have died a natural death. An Object can never be tossed away. If it is, it will find its way to the owner through a series of coincidences. The legend of the black pearl is a tale of one such Object. A Seeker must take care when handling an Object, or run the risk of becoming insane. They then become a Holder. A Holder is an immortal shell of a Seeker, forever protecting their precious Object. A Holder will ask a question, series of questions, or present a riddle or puzzle of logic to the Seekers that encounter it. Anyone who completes the trials is deemed worthy of the Object, and those who are not free the Holder and become the new Holder.

A sampling of known Objects follows:

* The Coin: When placed under the tongue it gives the gift of languages. The markings on it are of an unknown civilization, and the face it bears is of an elven creature. Despite its unnatural markings, it appears like any other coin minted in the common age. The Coin is said to also grant the gift of understanding the language of animals as well as humans. The Coin is even able to translate written languages, including ciphers. The language of the Objects themselves is immune to the Coin.
* The Pin and Tumbler Key: The Pin and Tumbler Key fits into any pin and tumbler lock and creates a portal to any other pin and tumbler locked door. No secret is safe from the Holder of the Pin and Tumbler Key, any door or briefcase that uses a similar lock is open to them. The key is almost indistinguishable from any other similar key, save for the presence of lettering along the top of it. The letters appear to come from the same language as the coin.
* The Knife: Able to cut anything cleanly. The knife is powerful enough that if dropped onto a slab of titanium it will bury itself into the metal to the handle. Even with the most powerful microscope no tool marks can be found. The knife is a simple kitchen knife, free even of the letterings of other Objects.
* The Chain: When both ends are touched to an object the two objects cannot be pulled apart from each other. The only way to undo The Chain is for the Holder to remove them, or for the chains to be won in one of the above methods. The chain is a simple iron chain, a yard in length with twenty-three links.
* The Mirror: Creates a doppleganger of a chosen individual, including the Holder. The doppleganger is identical in every way to the original. The Mirror itself is plain and frameless, polished to a perfect shine, a rectangle little larger than a hand.

# The Cup: Once filled by a liquid, it can never be dry. Any liquid can fill The Cup, and once another liquid is poured into The Cup, it replaces the original completely, and can never be dry. The Cup is a simple glass, no different from any other except for a single chip on the ridge, that leads down into a crack in the glass.
# The Notebook: Anything written in The Notebook will be remembered by the Holder, and when won will be remembered by the new Holder. The Notebook can call forth any knowledge written in it by any of its Holders, but to anyone other than the Holder The Notebook will call forth insults and curses. On the outside The Notebook has is the same as any other, but on its blue cover is the same language as the Coin and the Pin and Tumbler Key. Parts of the language have been tentatively translated as “200 pages” though this is of course a guess by one of the Holders. The ruling of the pages within the Notebook is different from any current ruling, and the inside front cover is covered in the Language. Another guess claims they are the full rules of the Objects.

# The Deck of Cards: Each Card has a separate property, it is also unknown if there exists a complete deck or just a few individual cards. Bringing the Cards together is rumored to give the Deck a single property, though no one has managed to do this. The Cards that have been confirmed to exist are:

* Ace Diamond: Creates an invisible and impenetrable barrier. Known to some as the Anti-Knife
* Ace Spade: able to cut like a blade, despite not being as effective as The Knife in this task, it is the only thing able to cut the Diamond Aces shield, the Anti-Ace Diamond
* Ace Heart: anyone the Holder touches with the Ace Heart is overcome with infatuation
* Ace Club: Renders anyone the Holder touches with the Ace Club unconscious
Queen Heart: Detaches the head of anyone touched while keeping them alive
* Jack Heart: Causes apoxia, and is not limited to touch
* Jack Diamond: Gives the Holder unnatural, though not perfect, Luck
* Jack Club: Creates a large guardian from the Holder's shadow
All of the cards are only rough estimations of their actual suits and faces, as any writing on them is in the Language.

# The Wolf: A living Object with the power to sense anyone with malicious intent aimed at the Holder, the wolf is loyal to a fault. It's not actually a wolf, only a green-furred, wolflike creature with a mouth that opens in three places instead of the usual two.
# The Photograph: An undeveloped photograph of the Polaroid variety that acts as an eye. The Photograph's Holder can use the Photograph as a window that extends their field of vision near infinitely in any direction. The Photograph's window of vision is limited though, in that it cannot pass through matter, and it cannot reach into space, despite its ability to extend vision across the surface of the planet.

None of these Objects can be destroyed, though some say each Object has one other that can destroy it. If this is true, they are capable of returning. No Object rumored destroyed has stayed that way for long. These are only a sampling of the Objects that are known, I have run out of time. They have caught up with me. Soon I will be killed but I will leave this testimony of the Objects behind, The Thumbtack that should still be holding these pages to the floor is an Object, it hides whatever it's been stuck through from view of anyone you wish not to see it. It will hide these pages from those who are after me, and if you can stand a little pinprick it will hide you as well. I freely give it to you upon the event of my death. It is your doorway into the world of the Objects. If you have read and understood this, but don't want to delve into this world, I pray that you haven't stuck the Thumbtack into anything else. If you believe that you can bear this responsibility, I laugh at you, but the Thumbtack is yours, along with this information.

>>666423

lol house of leaves

Along with the Seekers, those who seek out the Objects, and the Holders, those driven insane that guard an Object, there is another group. They have no name, and thus I will call them The Lost Ones, for they have become Lost in whatever goal the Objects represent to them. They are the ones after me, but you have no reason to fear, I have left out the information they are hellbent on killing over. I only issue this warning: DO NOT SEEK THE DIARY, THE LETTER, OR THE [The rest of this line was covered in blood.]

[ ]bjects are now on y[ ]u. Beware of the Min[ ]aur"

The man who found the notes slowly became more distant. Drawing charcoal sketches of a humanoid silhouette with two large horns and claws on each hand. Many of the drawings gave it an axe. The man's co-workers noticed, along with his change from extrovert to introvert, a series of small puncture wounds on his arms. Eventually he disappeared. Some say he's now homeless, wandering the streets. Others, who believe, say that he's been driven insane and is now the Holder of the thumbtack, waiting for someone else to bear the burden of becoming dim and free him from eternity. Who knows though, the case is cold, but still open.

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house 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, and 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 horrifying detail. Many go mad in that very cell, some disappear soon after the meeting, and 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 that if you do, your death will be one of cruelty and unrelenting horror.

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

That 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.

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls herself "The Holder of the Beginning". A small smile will work its way over the persons mouth, almost seeming to say, "You fool.”

You will be taken down a hallway, seemingly leading out into a place it shouldn't. This place will seem to exist nowhere in the institution, but it will. The hall will be silent, even if you try to make noise. Screams will die before leaving your mouth, footsteps will be muffled. Your guide will simply point to the door.

If you enter, you will find a cozy room, full of a pleasant, though unidentifiable, perfume. There will be a pretty lady sitting, holding nothing. No sounds will be made in this room, no matter how hard you try, except for one question. "Why were they separated?" The lady will then explain, in detail, the reason. It will be every horrific event in history, every beating, every war, and every rape. Everything. Then, all will fall silent. It is up to you to do what you will with this information.

That lady is Object 2 of 538. It is up to you if they should be joined or not.

A very good thread.

does anyone else have anymore?

THE GROVE
In the heart of the Rockies, lies a grove of trees growing in a perfect circle. A grove that, aside from this geometric oddity, appears perfectly innocuous from the outside. If one should step foot into this grove however, the inside with be as dark as any moonless night in those mountain woods, even on the brightest summer’s day. Those who have mistakenly wandered into the grove are rarely in any condition to say what happens inside, many simply never come out. However, if you are very brave, or very foolish, you can attempt to camp within the grove. Go in with your eyes shut tight, lie down in your sleeping bag, and no matter what you hear, no matter what you feel, do not open them again. If you somehow manage to find your way to sleep before the grove takes your sanity or your life, you will awaken in the middle of the day to the light of the sun on your face in a the middle of a grove; a grove that, aside from growing in a perfect circle, and containing your heart’s one greatest desire, is perfectly innocuous. If one should step foot outside this grove however, they will find the outside to be dark as any moonless night in those mountain woods.

does anyone have the story about the french cafe and the paintings in the upstairs room

Item# SCP-014

Object Class: Safe
SCP-014
Enlarge
SCP-014

Special Containment Procedures: 014’s holding cell is to remain locked at all times. Personnel of sufficient clearance (as determined by facility administrator) may be admitted to view 014 after submitting a formal request in advance. Anyone handling SCP-014 needn’t take any special precautions, though common sense dictates that one should wash their hands afterwards.

the original : WHO WAS PHONE


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 i 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?

also:

So ur with ur honey and yur making out wen the phone rigns. U anser it n the vioce is “wut r u doing wit my daughter?” U tell ur girl n she say “my dad is ded”. THEN WHO WAS PHONE?

Appearance: SCP-014 takes the form of an antique dinner fork, well worn, and as near as can be estimated, not cleaned since the 1890’s. The object is fashioned from the electroplated nickel-silver typical of the suspected period of its manufacture and the rightmost tine is bent slightly outward. Brown stains and mold adorn the prongs and the pits of the decorative parts of the handle. Analysis of this material seems to indicate that SCP-014 was last used on some form of beef.

SCP-014 was moved to this facility in the early Seventies and seems, for all intents and purposes, to be an entirely mundane dinner fork. If it is possessed of any extra-ordinary qualities, these are known only to those in the very highest echelon of this project’s coordinators, whose representatives assure us that 014 is, quote “Very Important”. Officers who have spent time alone with SCP-014 are unanimous in their appreciation that the object is of great significance (hence its continued presence at this site), though none can quite say why [see >>Testimony of Major ?????? ??????????, February, 1972]. No tests on SCP-014 are authorized. Any personnel observed attempting to compromise 014 in any way are to be terminated on sight.

THE CONVINCE STORE
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. This, however, can only be done once. There are some exceptions to the ability, as well…

Item #: SCP-016

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-016 is to be kept at all times in 8x8 feet cubicle. No direct contact is to be made with SCP-016. SPC-016 may have the following objects inside its cubicle, 1 box of Kleenex brand tissue, 1 wide screen monitor, 1 HP computer model number b1730r, 1 gallon of Absolut. The box of Kleenex and the bottle of Absolut are to be replenished daily. No personnel may access the computer or look directly at the monitor.

Failure to comply with these measures may cause a violent reaction in SCP-016. Personnel who have failed to provide SCP-016 with the above mentioned items or personnel who have accessed the computer or looked directly at the monitor have experienced long bouts of depression, anxiety, paranoia, excessive masturbation, have taken to calling staff members of African decent "niggers", and in severe cases have been known to rape female personnel.

Description: SCP-016 appears to be many things to many different staff members often resembling a slightly overweight white male but may also appear to be female, of African decent, Hispanic, Asian, or European.

Item#: SCP-497

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: Subject is considered annoying but mostly harmless. Allowed to wander freely throughout the base as long as he makes no attempts to leave.

Description:Appears for all intents and purposes to be a Caucasian British man wearing semi-futuristic clothing with a large H tattooed on his forehead. Subject is believed to be a photon-based life-form and thus in his natural state completely intangible. Energy weapon 47-A is required to hinder him in any way but so far it has proven unnecessary as his crippling need to be the center of attention has been all that was required to keep him on base. If personnel can deal with his need for attention, cowardice, misogyny, and severely inflated ego coupled with deep self-loathing they will find an incredible store of information.

Special Notes: We have no idea what "Smeghead" means but apparently it's an insult of high caliber.

>>666498
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lV17GxTh3Mo

B^U

Item#: SCP-627

Object Class: Euclid

Special Containment Procedures: Item SCP-627 is to be kept in a soundproof locked container at all times. Personnel interacting with SCP-627 must be equipped with headgear that blocks all outside noise. At no time should the headgear be removed in the presence of SCP-627. Failure to comply will result in immediate termination. Personnel are advised to approach SCP-627 in groups no smaller than three persons.

Description:Recovered from Site 3-A in late 2007. Item SCP-627 is believed to be part of a "training course" for employees of Site 3-A. It is a metallic cube-like object approximately 1.5 cubic meters in volume.

Subjects approaching SCP-627 report that it appears to be sentient and capable of speech. Many find it nearly impossible to separate themselves from it and must be forcibly removed from the area. Some subjects are able to recover from this; many are drawn into a sort of depression, as though they have lost a beloved companion.

It is interesting to note that physical examinations of the object reveal no obvious method of auditory output, and that sound-dampening equipment has proven effective against the hallucinations brought on by exposure to SCP-627.

>>666527

Item#:SCP-360

Object Class: Keter

Clearance: Any

Description: A hard plastic white monolith with a circle separated into quadrants. SCP-360 was found in a burnt out apartment building and from our tests was the cause of the fire. Pressing the circle on the monolith causes the quadrants to light up green under ideal conditions.

Special Containment Protocol:The containment room must be kept at a constant 10 degrees Celsius with 6 box fans on high directed towards SCP-360. If at any time during research the bottom left most 3 quadrants start to blink red, the agents currently in the room must turn 360 degrees and then walk backwards slowly. Just walking away would cause a logic error on the scale of dividing by zero. Once out of the room have another agent wearing level 4 HAZMAT armor come in to package it up in a "coffin" box and send it off to [EXPUNGED] and then await a replacement in 1-2 weeks

Item#: SCP-146

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: Item 146 is currently being displayed in the reception area of Facility 12. Personnel assigned to front office duty are advised to keep watch on SCP-146 when visitors enter, especially if the visitors are unscheduled. No attempts should be made to stop visitors from interacting with SCP-146, though superiors with at least level 3 clearance are to be notified.

Description:Item 146 is a blade approximately 95cm long. The item is embedded in a rough block of granite such that only 3.5cm of the blade is visible below the handguard. Blade surface appears untarnished and polished, despite estimates of the item's age. Attempts to remove Item 146 from the embedding material have so far proven impossible.

A cease on testing of SCP-146 and its movement from site EL023 were ordered following Executive Order Z-901.

sauce on scp plz!!!!!!!!!!

Item#: SCP-743

Object Class: Safe

Special Containment Procedures: SCP-170 is to be kept in a password-locked cabinet at all times. Only those with Level 3 Security Clearance or higher are allowed access to the item, and must be accompanied by at least two additional personnel.

Any personnel found to have eaten the contents of SCP-170 shall be immediately detained and sent to rehabilitation. If subject does not comply, non-lethal force is authorized if necessary to subdue subject.

Description:

SCP-170 is a 1.8 oz/51g bag of Jack Link's teriyaki-flavored beef jerky. The serial number on the bag is 17082-30743.

The bag has the ability to resupply itself with jerky, even after the jerky is completely depleted. The normal time for an empty bag to refill is about 30 minutes.

The jerky found in the bag appears to be highly addictive, despite test showing no physical or chemicals differences from normal jerky. Subjects who have eaten the jerky have described it as the best-tasting jerky they have ever eaten, and all subjects show signs of heavy psychological dependency. MRI scans of subjects who have eaten the jerky have shown extremely high levels of dopamine in the nucleus accumbens and the substantia nigra, areas of the brain associated with addiction. Subjects will become violent if attempts are made to take the jerky away. Subjects experience extreme depression while waiting for the jerky to regenerate.

>>666550
http://www.editthis.info/scp_wiki/SCP-432

>>666538

i lol'd

>665785

Shit gave me chills

shit gave me fail

im making this up as i go along

Last Sleep
Sarah was a good student she had A's in the class she had lots of friends. She was young and she was growing up fast with the first year in high school right over the horizon.

Studied up and ready for the new year she was ahead of her friends as usual who at this point were scrambling to get their's done. Her parents were out for the day on shopping and what not. Opening the shade in her room to read a good book.

The book was an intriuging story about a farm girl who was going into the big city after thier farm was sold. When she heard it. A voice was coming from down stairs. Putting the book down she ran down to find no one at the door, looking out side to make sure there was no one she headed back upstairs when she heard the voice again. this time coming from above in the ceiling as her body froze grabbing a kitchen knife. Making her way up the stairs cautiously clutching the knife behind her in case so she could get a proper swing with it if needed. She heard the voice again. "I must be going crazy" she thought to herself checking all the tv's and radios one by one, with a deep breath every time she entered a room. Going back to her room she heard it again this time ready for it she knew were it was coming from. Inside the wall, pacing back and forth she thought about what to do, why was there a person in the walls? How did they get there? Was she going crazy she knew a kid named Gill who taken away for seeing people that wernt there and how sane he seemed. No she would not tell anyone she would look and see if there was anyone there but how? As a cold shiver ran threw her spine hearing the subtle voice once again. Going down stairs she paced back and forth thinking how were they to get stuck in the wall. Then she remembered that when they bought the house there were parts of the attic that were never finished.

continued- Rummaging threw kitchen she found a light in her mothers purse her mother always losing things needed a flashlight like a diabetic needs insulin. Thinking of how her mother was always so forgetful blaming her friend once of stealing a bracelet until she found it under a seat cushion later that month. Feeling so embarrassed and needing to apologize. The sweat stroll down memory lane was cut short with the muffled voice calling again making her soil quiver.

Heading up stairs to the attic which was a dimly lit place that was a last haven for old nicknacks her parents had accumulated. Trudging threw the piles of junk making sure not to step on any of them she went to the places were boards were missing leaving deep trenches were she shined the flashlight into the houses innards. The cry for help was sent out again this time she was only but inches away from the gap. Knowing were it was she crouched down trying to see something. Flashing the Light this way and that then she heard it "A loh" with a rustling from below. Looking around frantic this time "Is someone down there" sweat sliding down her face in the stuffy attic. Her eyes wild as she flashed it this way and that calling out again. "Kah boo koo doh" with the same rustling came up from the dark abyss. With beams crossing this way and that she needed a better perspective as the vioce called out again "doo Mah". Placing her foot on a beam inside the gap she made her way down to were the plea was coming from. On the third platform she did not hear a voice but rather the crack of wood underneath her feet as she was sent down into the core of the building hearing another crack but not that of wood but of her leg broken on a rivet. Still falling being viciously cut but nails that were jutting out. Into a spiral of pain as she came crashing down to the bottom eyes red as she weeped in agony lying on her side as her body was just wide enough to fit between the wall. Bleeding from her arms legs and stomach with deep gashes from the protruding metal. Thick dust of wood and plaster filled her lungs as her throat became inflamed. "Wah!" the voice was not more then a foot away from her as she strained her neck to see what was behind her. With the light meeting the same fate as her it cascaded off of the sides of the wall, peering into the grey she saw it.

continued part 4 sry for split in story

A furby opening and closing its eyes as she turned back having a laugh thinking about how stupid she was coughing badly half way threw coughing up blood in the process. She started to feel faint and dizzy laughing and coughing even harder about the whole situation. Thinking this will be a story that we will talk about for years. Drifting off into her final sleep.

When her parent arrived they found the house almost seemed ransacked with the draws all opened someone also gone threw her purse. With her daughter missing it was first reported as a kidnapping. Then later changed to a run away case when finding the contents of the book she had been reading and lack of suspects fingerprints figuring she ran off. Not until 2 weeks later was her body found when her father was going threw a old photo album in the attic being startled by a voice coming from a gap in the floor.

>>666335
Hahaha me too...

Oh god I hate myself.

I can't remember exactly what the story was about, but does anyone have the copypasta about a man who befriends a snake or some creature and has to guard some lever that if used destroys the universe? Or at least it was something like that...

>>666756
inb4 "Better Nate than Lever"

keep this thread alive

TLDR

>>666666

>>666920
Thanks for the name of the story!

i will start looking for more to add to this colection
who will help?

If you listen to every song Placebo ever sang in the right order backwards (up to their most recent album), you will receive secret instructions on how to summon and control the shadow people.

The order has to be exact, or else the shadow people will come and kill you, turning you into one as well. So far, nobody has ever gotten it right…

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.

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.

THE HOLDER OF THE PAST
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution 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 Past". At the last syllable of your sentence, his eyes should open wide and stare at you as if he was attempting to see past your skin into your soul. Don't ask any questions, because he won't speak to you, and in the case that he does, you will wish he hadn't. He will take you down a long hallway and you will walk with him for what will seem like hours. Stare STRAIGHT AHEAD the entire time, for if you look at the floor, walls, or ceiling of the hallway, you will run into a dead end and the worker will pursue you with a hellish bloodlust until you are completely disemboweled.

After exactly 350 paces the worker will stop, turn around, and pull a watch out of his pocket. He will turn the dial backward one hour and at that point, you will have one hour to complete your task. If you don't, then there are no words to describe your fate at that point. The lights will go out for exactly 3 seconds, and when they turn back on, you will be in a room with no doors and a red-tinted skylight shaped like a pentagram. This will cast a blood-red star in the middle of the room where a splintered cherry table with two seats will be. Sitting at the seat closest to you, look up. Look down again, and a man with long, dirty black hair will be face-down on the table. He will answer to one question: "Where did He once stand?"

The man will speak of a place that has no place on any map, but will describe the room in painfully grotesque detail. Pay very close attention, he will enumerate exactly how many of what horrible object hang from spears protruding from the walls. You have the rest of the hour to find the room and sit in His throne. If you fail, I suggest you become armed; heavily.

His Throne is object 15 of 538. If brought together, he may once again return.

COPY
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.

THE MURDERER
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.

In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. Storm up to the front desk with a look of rage on your face, and demand to see a person who calls himself "The Holder of Peace" immediately. The attendant will recoil, and ask you to speak softly. Do not comply with his request- if anything; speak louder- for the anger in your voice is all that keeps the chains locked on the door behind the desk. Should you lower your voice, the attendant will duck, and what comes out of that door will dismember you in an instant but leave the pain behind for all eternity.

Keep the anger in your voice- the attendant will duck under his desk and point with a quivering finger down a hall to the right that was not there before. Immediately turn and stomp off down the hall. Do not look over your shoulder, for should the attendant catch you- and he will- he will casually lean back and flip the lock off the door behind him.

Walk until you find a door with a beautiful mother-of-pearl inlay design. Throw it open, but take the rage off your face IMMEDIATELY- the ones inside do not appreciate such anger.

With a peaceful look across your face, enter. You are in a beautiful, open-aired temple, with ivy curling up the marble pillars and beautiful mosaics embroidering the walls. The door will lock behind you. Do not try to open it, for it never will, and the monks in brown robes you see wandering about will do anything to get you to stay- even if it means your death.

Wander around. No matter what language you speak, the monks speak it too. They're friendly, and all of them would love to chat, but politely decline. Tell them you must speak with the Head of the Order.

Eventually you will be directed to a man sitting at a chessboard - the temple's abbot. The figure across from him is hooded and wearing armor. Do not attempt to speak to the hooded figure, or your death will be far worse than any vision of hell that man could conjure up. Instead, turn to the man in the now-familiar brown robes. The game is one move away from checkmate.

Bow, and ask nicely "Why do they gather, Father?"

He will open his mouth as if to speak. But the figure across from him will let out a demonic howl of rage and draw a sword. It is beautifully crafted, but seems somehow stained with an unthinkable evil. With a yell, the figure will kick you down and begin systematically slaughtering the other monks. They will try to fight back, but they have only staves, and the sword the madman wields is so sharp that it slices through the pillars like a knife through butter.

As you are watching this, the abbot will make the final move in the game. The man in armor will swing around, and then run at you with the sword upraised.

If you were rude or did something wrong, you will be rent at the atomic level by the blade of the sword, and the pain will never cease. However, if you were polite, the abbot will step in front of you and jam the black king into the right eye of the warrior.

Pay no heed or sympathy as he falls to the ground, screaming, or the abbot will whirl around and do the same to you with the white king. Instead, focus on the abbot, who has now turned around to face you.

He will tell you why they gather. It is a long tale, so fraught with bloodshed and horror that it may well snap your mind. But if you survive its telling, he will reach under the table with the chessboard and pass you a scabbard richly jeweled and inlaid with gold. Though you have never seen it before, you instinctively know that it matches the sword the warrior was wielding a moment ago. Do not hesitate- take it, walk over, pick up the madman's sword, wipe it, and sheath it. Buckle it on as well- you will have need of it.

Move to leave, but before you do, the good Father will halt you and gesture towards the now-unhooded face of the warrior. He was handsome, but pay no heed to that. The one thing you should be focusing on is the fact that the black king is gone. Look up at the abbot, who will nod and say one word; "Regicide".

A flash of light will blind you, and when your sight returns you will be standing on the curb two blocks down from the asylum. Step back onto the sidewalk- you don't want to have an accident.

The sword you now wield once belonged to the white king, and is object number 45 of 538. The black king is running from the scene of his murder, and the white king's sword longs for vengeance.

>>665870

I never get this one when it's posted. Can a kind anon help me?

>>669291
the number of times the bell toles is the number of people who have been taken and assumed to be killed

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

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

please no more scp of holders, they are not entertaining after you read it like 5 times since all of them are pretty much the same.

>>669359
then put something new in here
i am runing out

>>666258
>>666260
>>666262
>>666264

IN SOVIET RUSSIA, BRI/X/ SHIT YOU!

>>666527
I lol'd.

Pumb

A teenage girl was left alone for the weekend while her parents went away to celebrate their anniversary in private. On saturday night, a terrible storm swept into the area. A heavy rain pounded on the roof. The wind rattled every window, and a bolt of lightening knocked out the power in three counties.

All alone in a dark house lit only by candles, the girl was very frightened. But she had her dog with her, a big golden retriever. He wasn't exactly a killer, but at least he was comforting.

When she was ready to go to sleep, the girl took the dog into her room with her and had him lay down beside her bed. Every time thunder crashed over the house, she awoke and reached won her heand. "You still here, boo?" The dog would licker hand and the girl was reassured that she was not alone.

Eventually she fell into a deep sleep. At about six in the morning, something dripping in the bathroom woke her. She climbed out of bed and went down the hall. There was her dog, hanging by its neck from the shower head. Scrawled on the mirror in blood was the message, "I can lick hands too."

A teenage girl was left alone for the weekend while her parents went away to celebrate their anniversary in private. On saturday night, a terrible storm swept into the area. A heavy man pounded on the girl. The wind rattled every window, and a bolt of lightening knocked out the power in three counties.

All alone in a dark house lit only by candles, the girl was very frightened. But she had her dog with her, a big golden retriever. He wasn't exactly a killer, but at least he was comforting.

When she was ready to go to sleep, the girl took the dog into her room with her and had him lay beside her . Every time thunder crashed over the house, she awoke and reached over. "You still here, boo?" The dog would lick her hand and the girl was reassured that she was not alone.

Eventually she fell into a deep sleep. At about six in the morning, something dripping in the bathroom woke her. She climbed out of bed and went down the hall. There was her dog, hanging by its neck from the shower head. Scrawled on the mirror in blood was the message, "I can lick dogs too."

Don't title them, it takes away from the whole "creepy" and adds to the whole "pasta".

>>665767

i dont like the ending why does everyone have to die why cant the medic be a hero?

>>665785
and im sick of people contributing to the idea that floating around that this is a scary past. ITS NOT YOU STUPID DOUSCHEBAGS I dont give a shit if you say "but no it employs a literary device in which you dismiss a fact as harmless only to later find that it was sinister" I dont give a fuck, its not scary, and poorly written

>>666335

... did it work?

A teenage girl was left alone for the weekend while her parents went away to celebrate their anniversary in private. On saturday night, a terrible storm swept into the area. A heavy man pounded on the girl. The wind rattled every window, and a bolt of lightening knocked out the power in three counties.

All alone in a dark house lit only by candles, the girl was very frightened. But she had her dog with her, a big golden retriever. He wasn't exactly a killer, but at least he was comforting.

When she was ready to go to sleep, the girl took the dog into her room with her and had him lay beside her . Every time thunder crashed over the house, she awoke and reached over. "You still here, boo?" The dog would lick her hand and the girl was reassured that she was not alone.

Eventually she fell into a deep sleep. At about six in the morning, something dripping in the bathroom woke her. She climbed out of bed and went down the hall. There was her dick, hanging by its neck from the shower head. Scrawled on the mirror in blood was the message, "I can lick dicks too."

>>666488
I laughed so hard.

>>671504
LOL'D HARD.

>>666107
there can't be a good creepy pasta thread without this pic

>>669273

These are my favorite. Does anyone have anything other than 1, 2, 15, and 45?

>>666131
you son of a bitch I read that at 9:59

>>666131
Tell me, how the hell am I supposed to do my goddamn job when fuck wits like you go around warning everyone, TELL ME THAT, ASSHOLE.

I got kids too, you know! How will I feed my children?

>>666131

I was there, where were you?
Be back soon.
-Godot

Holder of Nothing
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution 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 Nothing". Should a look of sheer, primal disgust mar the workers expression, you will then be taken to a separate building, which appears to be an old, wooden outhouse. Inside will be a seemingly endless corridor far, far longer than the length of the outhouse.

There will be no sound in the corridor. Attempting to make any at the wrong time is a grievous, grievous mistake. You will notice the lights in the corridor get brighter and brighter as you make your way down towards the end, becoming nearly blinding. If at any point the lights go out, QUICKLY shout out "No! Stop! What you are doing is wrong!" while backing away. If the lights do not come back on, bolt for the door you came in through. It should still be open and hopefully you aren't far enough down the hallway for them to close it on you. If they manage to close it, hell itself would be preferable to what you will suffer.

If the lights come back on, return to walking forward down the corridor. Upon reaching the cell, the worker will open the door for you while glaring at you in disgust. Inside the cell will be a mad pastiche of colors, arranged in several harlequin-like formations. You must not be distracted by them; for at the center of a room is a naked young woman, slathered in blood and bound by strips of human sinew. If you take your eyes off her even for a moment, she will destroy you utterly. She will only respond to one question. "What were they when they were one?"

She will then stare into your eyes, and speak the answer in incredible detail. It will be unlike anything you have ever heard and you will be on the verge of both ecstasy and agony at her mere words. It is not uncommon for most to lose themselves in the euphoria. The worst thing you can do, however, is look upon the tattoo on her chest. It will pull at your mind to gaze upon it, but you mustn't. If you do, you will be hers.

She will flay you alive and add your mutilated flesh to her bindings, and you will remain trapped with her, fully conscious, for the rest of time.

That tattoo is object 4 of 538. They desire to be one again. But they mustn't.

>>671836
>>671832

Much appreciated. Do this come from a site or something? Sorry to be such a newfag.

Holder of Song
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house in you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit "The Holder of Song”. You will be guided to a single door leading to a long winding staircase. It will seem to take you up higher than the building should stand. There will be a door at the top of the stairway that opens into a dim hall.

Heat will wash over you. Proceed down the hall, and at one point, it will suddenly get much colder. When this happens, you must stand perfectly still and make no sound. If you hear a baby crying, turn around and run away. The baby's cry will follow you. If you hear it for the rest of your life, you're lucky, for when it stops, your first-born child has died.

If there is no cry and the heat returns, proceed to the door at the end of the hall. Open it.

The room will be awash in green light. In the center will be an old woman turning a music box that produces no sound. Her legs have both been severed at the knees. When you speak to her, you must look her in the eyes. She hides a spear fashioned from the bones of her legs, and if you break eye contact, she will impale you and leave you in agony to bleed to death. She will respond to only one question. Ask her, "What was the song they used to play?"

The old woman will begin singing. The song is in a different language, but the melody is beautiful; serenity will wash over you. You will be presented with the image of children playing and singing. Things will turn grimmer. The children will begin fighting, then killing, then disemboweling each other with sharp rocks. The image will continue of children spreading death and destruction more horrific than you could ever have dreamt. But still, you will remain calm and peaceful. You will see a naked boy drenched in blood, singing with delight as he runs through a hellish wasteland, pursued by unspeakable monsters. They find him, and mutilate him utterly. Still, the song will continue from his dead lips.

An intense pain will stab at your chest. Your heart will feel like it is about to explode. But still, you must not break eye-contact with the old woman; if you do, an exploding heart would become your happiest dream. If you don't shift your gaze, the pain will cease. The woman will stand up (you will know not how) and place the music box in your hands.

The music box is object 6 of 538. When its song plays again, they will all come together.

>>671846
Someone posted this website not too long ago. ^_^ It's pretty awesome. It even has BEK stories, Mel's Hole, and a bunch of creepypasta.

http://thekingofwolves.webs.com/index.htm

>>665758
that would make me want to listen more

>>671862

Thank you!

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?

In the most deserted part of Wyoming there is a restaurant. There are no roads leading to it, no signs advertising it. It's just there, in the open. Walk inside however, and you will learn two things. One, it's jam packed with people talking, eating and enjoying themselves. Two, the entire place looks like it's a scene from the 50's including the people, the food, the newspapers, the music, everything. Take a seat, observe the atmosphere, relax. When the waitress comes to get your order, make it a cheeseburger with mashed potatoes. Afterwards, a red-haired lady should ask you to date to a tune on the juke-box. Find the song on it that has the same number as your current age, pick it, then dance you heart out. When the song ends, a flash of light with engulf the whole scene, and you will be standing outside your home the following morning.You now should have the power of clairvoyance for the remaining year. If you did not, then woe is you. For you also missed out on the best fries and shake you'll ever eat

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

>>671950
i like that story

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

damn you

In the hills surrounding the town of Bodega Bay in California, there is a tree, sitting right in the crook of two hills. Scattered 10 paces around it are 7 different fresh-water springs. It is said that one of them cures any disease, another grants immortal life, 4 will kill you instantly and cause your body to dissolve into powder. But the last spring is special. If you bottle water from this one and take it to a small cave hidden in the hills north of the tree, you will find a single large stone at the back of the cave. If you then splash the water on the stone, it will dissolve, leaving you a baseball-sized red stone. As long as you have this stone in your possession, you will always be in the right place at the right time. If you pour water from any of the other 6 springs on the rock, the cave will seal up, and you will be lost forever under the earth.

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. 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. They only come to exist, though, once a person has gazed into them. To them, life is like a never-ending 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, is if you die. They are bound by a code, though. You are their master, and they must mirror your every movement and expression. To do otherwise would break an unbreakable law, unraveling existence. However, there is a loophole, and it can only be triggered by you. To force them into error is to free them from their contract; by letting them out of your view. Know this: when you watch them, they're watching you back. They're watching. And they're thinking. There was a time, though, when things weren't always like this...

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

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 room is perfect. Make sure its 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. 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 etheral.

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.

Holder of Wisdom
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution or halfway house you can get yourself to. When you reach the front desk, ask to visit someone who calls himself "The Holder of Wisdom." The worker will chuckle and you will be guided to an empty room. The worker will hand you a key and tell you to wait some time in the room until you hear a bell ring. Then you have to lock the door, wait until a second ring and unlock it.

It will open all by itself and reveal a long hallway, with all colors you may or may not know painted onto the walls, ceiling and floor. Follow the hallway until you hear a little girl singing. Stop, close your eyes and stay where you are until the girl finishes the song, even if you think that it will drive you mad. If you do move, run. Run back to the door where you came from, as fast as you can. Jump through the window of the room where you waited before and you might live. Should you be unable to reach the window in time, a horrible creature will drag you back into the hallway where you will die a death that is as horrible as the creature that caught you.

If you do not move and the song ceased, you are free to turn around and leave forever, or walk deeper into the hallway, until you reach a door in the shape of a human. Open this door with the same key that was given to you earlier, walk inside and close it behind you. In the middle of the room you will see a desk with a bright candle and behind the desk will sit a man, with his face hidden by the shine of the candle. Walk closer, but always keep the flame between you and the man's face, for you will surely feel the urge to empty your stomach should you witness how he looks like.

Stop when you are five steps away from the desk. The man will raise his hand and gesture you to come closer, but do not step any further than this. Close your eyes and ask him one question, nothing else. "Who will bring them back together?" You will hear the man rising from his chair and he will begin to pray. It will be a language you will not understand at first, but after two minutes, you will hear a name. Should you hear 'Anubis', then pray that your death will come quickly. If it is 'Thor' you hear, you may open your eyes. The man's head will be on the desk, cut off of the body, but still talking. After another three minutes, he will stop and begin to tell you how you will die. He will describe every tiny detail of your horrible death, and you will be unable to move. He will also describe who kill you and why he does it.

Finally, the man will stop talking. His head is object 9 of 538. It is up to you what you do with the knowledge of your death, for it now is inevitable

>>665882

BRI/X/ EVERYWHERE. FUCK. OH MY FUCK.

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

>>672182
HOLY FUCKING FUCK! I HAVE TO KNOW! WHO THE FUCK WAS PHONE?! OMG SO MANY BRI/X/

>>665749
A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

day 1, wake up.....the first thing i notice is that there is a constant crunching sound, coming from somewhere in the house. I cheack my fathers room, turn the light on and see blood everwhere covering the walls the ceiling, floor, everywhere, though i find no body. i should feel sad, depressed, numb, shock. but i feel nothing only the same as when i woke up, hype-alert, to everything, the snoring a house away, the dog barking a block away.I turn the light off and continue my trip through, which i believe is a dream, but so real, a lucid dream mabey, am i screaming in terror but unable to feel a thing in this dream like state, i dont think so. I come to my brothers room, the door is closed, but blood seeps from below the door, what will i find? my brothers body crumbled to oneside guts torn from his torso, i dont know but i have to see. I grab the door knob and turn it, and gentaly push the door open. What i find will haunt me for the rest of my life if this is a dream, im still not sure but that might be enlightened soon. I open the door and see a cadaver hanging from the ceiling from the face that is bearly there i recognize my father, his body is covered in blood a cut that lasted from his croch to his jaw, is open but i see nothing inside. My brother pind to the wall with bent rebars, not sure how they got there but there, there. He is missing half of his head and i can see whats left of his brain. as i step closer to his somehow already rotting body, i see thousends of magots rithing in his skin, then i hear a dark chukle from behind be, which is from the door i just walked in. I turn and for the first time in the last 3o minutes since i woke i feel terror. What looks at me is a thing half my size

countinuation (im about 6'2, 192) totaly black, an inklike substince. It has 2 large red orbs where his eyes should be, and has a mouthful, of shark teeth, it almost looks childish. It tells me that its name, is llib, it will give me one free chance to leave the house an try and warn other people about him, so after about a full minute of not being able to talk out of shear terror, i accept his offer and sprint out of the house like i was stabed in the ass, into the deep, dark shit hole that is this plane of exictence..... to be countinued

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

these are bad >.>

im really not getting creeped out LOL

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

>>673400
A girl died in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried her in the ground when she was still alive. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried her. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little girl. In the middle of the night she will be on your ceiling. She will suffocate you like she was suffocated. If you post this, she will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.

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

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

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

Just be careful out there.

>>673410
How exactly is that "kindness"? It reads more like a /x/ version of pissing annoying chain letters on facebook...
/In before strangled in his sleep.

John Stalvern waited. The lights above him blinked and sparked out of the air. There were demons in the base. He didn't see them, but had expected them now for years. His warnings to Cernel Joson were not listenend to and now it was too late. Far too late for now, anyway.
John was a space marine for fourteen years. When he was young he watched the spaceships and he said to dad "I want to be on the ships daddy."
Dad said "No! You will BE KILL BY DEMONS"
There was a time when he believed him. Then as he got oldered he stopped. But now in the space station base of the UAC he knew there were demons.
"This is Joson" the radio crackered. "You must fight the demons!"
So John gotted his palsma rifle and blew up the wall.
"HE GOING TO KILL US" said the demons
"I will shoot at him" said the cyberdemon and he fired the rocket missiles. John plasmaed at him and tried to blew him up. But then the ceiling fell and they were trapped and not able to kill.
"No! I must kill the demons" he shouted
The radio said "No, John. You are the demons"
And then John was a zombie.

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 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.

Go to any psychological asylum or bedlam and ask the woman (yes, it will be a woman) to show you to the "Holder of the End." She will say nothing to acknowlege that she knows what you're talking about, but if you look deeply into her eyes, you will notice an intense, primordeal fear take hold. She will shakily take you to the oldest part of the asylum.
As the air dampens around you, you will notice that the walls suddenly change, and all sounds of the asylum that you knew will vanish, replaced with a curious dripping sound and a voice, reciting incantations in a language you do not understand. Should the voice stop, immediately get on one knee, say "Terribly sorry to disturb you, just passing through.", turn around, and quickly head back home. Never look behind your shoulder again.
However, if the voice does not stop, continue to the oldest, most secluded place of the asylum. The lady will hand you an old, rusted key and promptly return to her desk. Open the door to the cell and walk in. It will shut behin you, and re-lock until your task is complete. Go to the man sitting in the corner, holding an object clutched tightly in his hands, so tightly his knuckles are white. Ask him if you may relieve him of his burden.
Some say that the identity of the object is what makes the person go mad once they see it. Others say it's just the nature of the thing.
This object is one of two-hundred fifty-eight. They must never reunite.

God, I hope this thread is still alive when I get home.

It's been alive for the last couple of days, so I can't imagine it dying in a couple of hours. Unless some retard brings together the two things which never may be brought together...

Holder of Rage
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution 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 Rage". The person will appear shy as they show you to a door, and then walk away. When you enter the door, you will be looking down a staircase that descends into darkness. As you descend the stairs, you will begin to hear screams. The screams will come from a throat of indeterminate origin.

If the screaming stops at any time, shout to the darkness "Resume your business! I do not wish to intrude!" If the screaming does not come back, there is nothing you can do, for you will be dead before you know what happens. If the screaming continues, you may move on.

Eventually, you will see light coming through the cracks in a door. Go through this door and you will be in what appears to be a medieval dungeon. Hollowed out skulls filled with candles serve as lanterns, and skeletons line the walls. There will be a wooden table in front of a fire inside a fireplace. On this table is the severed head of a 4 year old girl, staring ahead with glassy eyes.

Step up to the table and look the head in the eyes. In a clear, commanding voice ask "Who will stop them from coming together?" The head will look you in the eyes and tell you the tale of a man. She will tell you his entire story, from his violent birth to what he is doing that very moment. His deeds will be recounted in horrifying detail. He is a murderer of which the likes have never been seen, and he is just as mad.

If at the end of the story, the head tells you "He is listening to our conversation," you will be dragged out of the room and never be heard from again. You will experience all of the most horrifying things ever conceived, and you will kept alive until you have experienced them all.

If she tells you he is elsewhere, he is now looking for you. He will not stop until you are dead or the objects come together. She will tell you to pick her up. Pick the head up by the hair and look at the table where she was. Sitting there will be a needle, covered in dried blood, semen, pus, and countless unidentifiable substances.

That needle is object is 21 of 538. The hunt has begun and the clock is ticking.

Holder of Silence
You are the Holder of Silence.

The silence you hear is object 31 of 538. The silence mustn't be broken.

Holder of Absence
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution 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 Absence". Should the person at the front desk try to convince you that the person you wish to visit is no longer there. Ask to visit their cell nonetheless. At this point the receptionist shall show a look that can only be defined as emotionless. The receptionist will lead you down a long wall with many doors on either side until you reach an iron door with one barred window on it. They will open the door for you but lead you no further. Beyond the door is darkness, nothing more.

As you step into the darkness, the door will slam shut behind you. You are now trapped and the only way to go is forward. You cannot see the ground, or the roof, or the walls. Be aware, you may be walking for a very long time, possibly days. As you walk you will begin to feel cold and empty inside. You will feel as if your soul has left your body and left you as a shell. In time you may hear footsteps that echo loudly. STOP IMMEDIATELY, and wait. If the footsteps do not stop, you must sit down and wait until they do. If they begin to grow even louder, then you will surely perish by an unimaginable horror. If the footsteps do stop, you must press forward until you reach another iron door, illuminated by a light behind it. Open it and step inside.

Inside will be a pitch black room. Only a small circle of light of the floor can be seen, lit by a small candle. Behind the light will be a chair with a coat on it. Approach the chair but do not sit in it, no matter how long you have been walking. Wait until the candle burns out. When it does, reach out, and take the coat. The next time you blink you will find yourself in front of the desk in the mental institution or halfway house. Reach into the right inside breast pocket of the coat and pull out a singed sheet of paper with red ink. DO NOT READ THIS INK or the Holder of Absence will become present and destroy you with unthinkable pain and anguish.

This paper is object 39 of 538. Keep him absent. Keep them from coming all together.

Holder of Sacrifice
In any city, in any country, go to any mental institution 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 Sacrifice". A look of bliss should then come over the workers' face, and they will ignore you. Request twice more. You will then be taken by another staff member to the highest floor in the building, then one higher. It will be in an unused, pitch-black section of the building. You will hear an unending groaning reverberate off of the walls from the area furthest from you. It is of utmost importance that you listen where the sound echoes from. Should the source of the noise change, stand still for 5 seconds, and extend your right arm, displaying your palm towards the darkness. If you feel what seems to be thousands of the most wretched bugs in existence crawl across your arm, do not flinch, do not cry out. If you do either, there is nothing that will save you. If the feeling ceases, then proceed further. Upon reaching the end of the hall something will trigger the lights. The light shall reveal thousands of corpses formed together as the floor, as to show the sacrifices one must make to achieve ownership of the object. A door will be to your right. Open it.

Once you cross through the threshold of the door, you will arrive in an office. A man will be facing you, sitting in a chair on the opposite end of the room. He will speak on a cell phone dripping with blood, but his voice is nonexistent. However, once you ask him the question, he will pause. "Why have I been chosen?"

He will then hold out the bloodied phone to you. Take it, and listen. A raspy voice shall describe the purpose of the objects, and why you have been chosen, and you shall shake uncontrollably.

This phone is object 48 of 538. Those who can bear to listen, receive the truth.

Holder of Everything
In any city, in any country, go to any hardware store you can get yourself to. Once there, go to any employee, sigh in awe and say "Will you look at all that stuff." The employee will begin to systematically list everything that is for sale. Listen to what he say and do NOT interrupt, or every tool and instrument noted - every hammer, every wrench, every set of pliers - will play a part in your drawn-out death. At the end of his speech ask to see "The Holder of Everything" and receive a key that the employee gives to you. It is the bathroom key and the employee will ignore you, going back to whatever business was taking up his attention. Use the key to go into the bathroom. It will be very small and cramped, giving enough space for only the moldy-and-stank toilet and one person. Close the door behind you, lock it, and sit. You will see upon the door various graffiti and writings ranging from the lewd to the derogatory. Use a pen that you have brought along and write on the door "How will everything react to their coming?” For the sake of all that is pure, do not write anything else or do anything else, for slowly the putrid water of the toilet will begin to spill, slowly filling the room until you have drowned in the mixture of water and human waste. You will not be able to open the door at that point, you are doomed.

If you have done the simple task of writing the question, the answer will start writing itself on the door. The writings will detail the anguish of loss and the death of hope that would follow the eventuality of their coming. All you should hear is the scratching of an invisible pen writing its unholy message on the door. Should you hear anything else, you must immediately close your eyes and bang on the door, screaming. The sounds should eventually stop. Should you not do this, or should the sound continue, failure will entail an eternity of red carnage and gore.

When the writing stops, you will be free to leave. Open the door and walk out of the hardware store. The key is object 50 of 538. It will be frigid every time you touch it. They must never come together.

Christ, stop posting Holders!

www.theholders.org

knock yourself out =/

A dickdied in 1933 by a homicidal murderer. He buried ither in the ground when it was still hard. The murdered chanted, "Toma sota balcu" as he buried the dick. Now that you have read the chant, you will meet this little dick. In the middle of the night it will be on your ceiling. It will suffocate you like it was suffocated. If you post this, it will not bother you. Your kindness will be rewarded.