I have a story for you /x/. I don't think I'm crazy but a lot of people do. Here's what happened to me today.

I work at a library at a university. It's not too busy but not dead quiet either. There were people talking and goofing around and working on class assignments - nothing unusual.

But at exactly 5:55 PM, I suddenly heard everything stop. Everyone was completely quiet and moving very slowly. Not like eerily slow like time warp, but like they purposely didn't want to attract attention. I looked around and the only people who seemed normal were myself and a coworker named Laura, who is a "library specialist" who is trained to handle a lot of the services we offer and all. She seemed to be going on as normal at her side of the desk even though our other coworkers, Pat and Paul, were quiet and still.

I turned to look around - everything was so creepy and still and quiet - but then I heard the library doors open.

In walked a frail looking old man with an unremarkable black tuxedo and a plain, dull average face. But two things noticeably stood out from this gentleman:

1 - His eyes were completely gone.
2 - He was carrying a brown, professional looking briefcase which has bees flying around it in a holding pattern of sorts.

He walked slowly up to the counter, fixated on Laura and seemingly uninterested in me. I got a chill down my spine. This guy creeped me the fuck out. He set the briefcase down on the counter and opened it.

>>796095
A huge fucking bee was inside.

This thing was easily the size of the briefcase if not larger. It looked like any other bee except big and hairy - almost like a bee teddy bear toy of some sort. But it was ALIVE and it buzzed loudly and vibrated at the most sickening and ungodly rate, like a vibrator or something.

He took the bee out of the briefcase and held it out, and Laura looked up slowly. She suddenly said "Oh darling, are these roses for me? They're BEAUTIFUL!" and took the bee from his arms and cradled it like some vibrating furry baby of doom.

The buzzing from the big bee kept getting louder. I vaguely remember seeing Laura leave with this man as he took her by the hand and walked her out the door. Even through my fear I wanted to follow them - to help her or figure out what was happening. It was the maddening buzzing sound that drove me to shut my eyes and cover my ears and grit my teeth and wish it all away.

Suddenly it all stopped. The library was back to its normal hustling and bustling. I looked around - Laura was really gone. But I had to know for sure what happened. I asked Pat and Paul where Laura was. The reaction I got was one of puzzlement.

"Who is Laura? What are you talking about?" They acted as if she never existed in the first place. It's like none of it happened at all!

I am so confused, still now. But you can see tell tale signs if you know where to look that this really happened. Laura isn;t on our schedule at work anymore - vanished completely. But now Saturdays and Sundays - when she used to work - the staff is reduced to only a lab staff member and a reference librarian - no library specialist. I didn;t know Laura that well but I'm gonna try to track down her friends and family and see if they remember her.

And please PLEASE if any of you hear a story like this somewhere else or if you see Laura or this BEE KEEPING OLD MAN please tell me - tell /x/ - tell the world!

There's a bus stop somewhere in Grand Rapids, Michigan where you can witness the future for a brief while.

If you find this bus stop and dial 000-0000 from a cell phone, the display will turn into the number 776-1100 which is the local bus service's telephone number. You will then be asked which route you want to get information about by a computerized system. Dial 00. You will hear a time roughly 20-30 minutes later than the current time.

The weather will start to grow colder and foggier, and at the time given, a bus bearing the route number 0 will arrive. The grim faced old man driving the bus will not turn to greet your or acknowledge your presence - you must simply pay your fare (BY COIN ONLY - fare cards will not work at all) and then take a seat.

As the bus leaves, colors will start flashing through the windows wildly. Don't close your eyes or you will wake up on a normal bus from route 49 headed northbound to the mall. Keep your eyes open until you hear the tone signaling a nearby stop followed by a woman screaming instead of the pleasant description of the next stop. The bus will soon stop and you must get off.

After getting off, you will be at an unfamiliar place in town. You can make out familiar buildings in the distance but the area you're confined to by a seeming invisible force is new and looks futuristic.

>>796097
What the buildings and features look like is dependent on the visitor - friends who have done this report different structures and places - some horrible and ghastly, others beautiful and serene. One thing all of the places share in this dreamlike world is a new flag waving. It's not the US flag - it's a red one bearing a striking semblance certain flags of Asian countries - but still different.

Feel free to explore, but not too long. The bus will arrive again in 2 hours. Until then this area is free to explore. If you try using your cell phone to call any number, all you will hear is the woman screaming again. No other electronic devices seem to work in the area - as if devoid of batteries.

When the bus arrives, get on it. I know for sure it will bring you back safely, but none of us have dared stay longer than the 2 hours between buses so we don't know what will happen. When you come back you will be at the station you left, unless you close your eyes at which point you will open them and find yourself on northbound route 49 again. We can;t seem to figure that connection out.

We haven't tried doing this in pairs or groups yet, but we assume it would work just fine. But you never know - I mean if we all see a different place than each other, the results of mixing 2 could be disastrous.

One other interesting note - a male friend of mine - lets call him Scott - found a newspaper machine in the alternate time. He couldn't get the machine to yield a newspaper - coins or no coins - but the date of the paper read March 34th, 109 A.F.C.E. By my best reckoning AFCE means "after first common era" or "after former common era". Eerie considering that if much of the city is the same in this "future", it may not be far off...

Recently I started biking to work once in a while - for exercise and for saving gas money. I hate biking back home after evening shifts though. My bike light is small and there is a stretch of road with virtually no lights and little to no traffic at night since its only a couple farms and a few factories at the end with trucks delivering there once in a while.

On one particular Monday evening it was muggy out and I was making my way back home down this road. About halfway between the traffic light near work and the factories at the end of the road with lights nearby, it got so muggy and humid and warm that I had to stop and get off my bike for a second.

At that second I turned and looked around and staring RIGHT at me were two glowing green eyes from the side of the road.

I pedalled my ass out of there as fast as I could until I was within the safety of glorious light.

>>796099
The next shift I had on Wednesday I drive that way to get to work instead of biking. On the way there I noticed something as I approached the area where the eyes were seen.

I started getting sweaty and it felt humid again - even with the air conditioning on. I looked to the left (which was my right when biking the other way) and saw it - a big scarecrow with dark green eyes.

I felt uneasy so I sped up a little - in the back roads there's not real speed limit so I didn't care.

I got a bit of sweat dripping down my face. As I moved to wipe some of it from my eyes, for a split second I saw the scarecrow's face right in my rear view mirror! I blinked and it was gone...

From now on I try not to go that way if possible. Luckily the bus system has a free bus route for employees and students from my school. Route 49 - and it DOES NOT go down that creepy dark road. I think I will start taking that instead of biking.

In Saginaw, Michigan there was formerly a Taco Bell that had an inexplicable sauce problem.

A one time loyal employee who was known to dabble in the occult was fired by new management under false pretense.

Ever after, every sauce packet given out contained human blood. Even new shipments of sauce packets contained only blood. When traced to the factory that produced the packets, no abnormalities were found. Other franchises in the area experienced no ill effects.

One of the last managers of the store tried bringing normal sauce packets from an untainted restaurant into the tainted location - only to find that they too then contained blood.

Packets moved from this location to another did not change back into sauce.

The location closed in the early 1980's and was sold and converted into another restaurant which experienced no problems whatsoever. None of the remaining sauce packets can be found today for DNA testing to determine the origin of the blood.

Very nice. Keep 'em coming.

>>796095
>>796096
5/10 It was pretty cool until the end. I'd say making it longer and completly redoing the ending.

>>796097
>>796098
6/10
Although I don't like the whole at this place you can experience this stories. I thought this was pretty good. You tell one person's account of this, maybe what he/she experiences. Also needs to be longer.

>>796099
>>796101
7.5/10
This could be pretty creepy if you expanded it a bit more.

>>796117
2/10
This is just stupid. Nothing creepy about it. It sounds like a bad Goosebumps book.

>>796129
I didn't write any of these, so your complaints are falling on deaf ears. I don't believe in writing creepypasta out of principle; as soon as anyone knows you're making this shit up it pretty much ceases to be creepy by default.

Once on a trip to southern Ohio in the late evening with two friends, we passed under an old rail bridge. After passing through the bridge, we kept seeing familiar looking monuments and landmarks and scenery. Eventually we came to a town - the same one we had passed hours ago on the way to the bridge. Somehow we ended up going into and out of the same side of the bridge despite not turning around.

According to locals it happens a lot to outsiders and the road beyond the bridge is haunted. We took an alternate route and found a nice hotel for the night.

That night everything felt kind of weird. We all felt somehow backwards from going through the tunnel and coming out the wrong side. After ot being able to sleep all night, we decided to go back and try driving through again.

Upon again exiting the wrong side, we finally felt right again for a few brief seconds, until in the rear view mirror I saw a cloaked figure with pale gray skin and big black eyes standing on the bridge.

We drove away as fast as we could and vowed not to return.

>>796212
A few weeks later after we'd settled back down back home, I logged onto my bank's website to check my account and pay my bills.

There had been a warning on my account about a possible fraud charge. I took a look at the charge, and couldn't believe my eyes. The motel we stayed at was listed on the bill, but the name of it was spelled completely backwards! My stomach churned as I read it again - I rubbed my eyes at least twice just to be sure.

To make things worse, the check image the bank had uploaded was not a scan of a check at all.

It was a photo.

A photo of a cloaked gray being with big black eyes.

Two days later my bank inexplicably removed all traces of the deemed fraudulent charges. All attempts to investigate further into the situation result in bank representatives denying any existence of the charges at any point in time and hanging up on me.

If traveling through the tip of the thumb of Michigan on a night with a full moon, stop at McGraw County Park. The gate will be closed but you can park in front of it. Bring a set of black clothes and change in the change rooms.

When you come out, there will be an old man with olive colored skin and curly dark brown hair and a mustache selling hot dogs in a cart. If you order one, the man will thank you for your patronage and apologize for your loss saying "I'm sure the wake will be nice." One of your relatives - not necessarily someone close but still someone you know - will have been murdered that night.

Be sure to change back into your other set of clothes, because if you drive away while still dressed in the black clothes you'll be pulled over by state police and arrested for the murder of your family member and the clothes will be covered in their blood.

There is a vending machine at an old, seldom maintained rest area along a stretch of interstate highway near Holland, Michigan. The vending machine hasn't been stocked in years due to the loss of its keys, it being completely stuck shut, and being bolted to the ground. Somehow it remains on after many years and contains a single old candy bar with an unrecognizable faded wrapper. Most people pass it by as I did on my visit.

But as I found out later, anyone visiting the rest stop who as born on February 29th on a leap year becomes maddeningly hungry and makes every attempt at claiming the candybar - many taking their own lives in crazed attempts at breaking the machien open.

At least 18 known victims have tried - and yet the site remains open as it is the only working rest area for miles and the state is too underfunded to build a new one.

I've only been there once because I overshot on the way to visit a friend in Holland. True story when I tried calling him on my cell phone all I heard for the first few minutes was a crow cawwing. I hung up and tried again and it was fine.

It is said that in Glen Rose, Texas, an old bank vault underneath the city contains a slot machine from the 1800s that contains a key given to Abraham Lincoln by an unidentified being bearing resemblance to a gray alien.

Even if you found the machine, you would have to get all three 7s to line up to retrieve the key.

And to do that, you would need the arm of the slot machine, which has been hidden seperately from the machine itself. It's whereabouts are unknown but rumored to be in either Dallas, Texas, New Orleans, Louisiana, or Walla Walla, Washington.

Although the obvious choice would be the furthest away, those in the know believe that it's in New Orleans, Louisiana and that Hurricane Katrina was orchestrated to provide a cover for a search and recovery of the arm.

There's a diner in Independence, KY that has used the same menus for nearly 70 years. The menus have been updated to include a few new dishes and accommodate new prices, but on the last page remains a remnant of the original menu - the chicken stew.

Every attempt at removing the item or changing it's price (30 cents a bowl) has failed.

No one at the diner knows how to prepare the dish - which isn't necessary anyway. Anyone who attempts to order the dish inexplicably starts to faint midway through the sentence.

When awoken hours later, the victim feels no ill side effects - except he/she squawks like a chicken and coughs up a single white feather before resuming normal speech.

The feathers are unremarkable and the diner now keeps them if visitors don't want them - there's a wall literally covered in them and is truly a sight to behold.

Various people lost in Chicago on cold, snowy February nights have yielded reports of strange activity. People report being lost and suddenly happening upon a 1920's era male Italian mafioso in a black pinstripe suit and hat smoking a cigar and flipping a coin in the air for a bit. The mafioso asks different favors of each, each with a different result.

A female witness was asked for a match to relight his cigar with. Upon responding favorably and lighting the cigar, the mafioso reportedly melted "like snow" and the witness ran off to find help.

The next morning she was called to business in Texas and then into other southern states and other countries. Since then she has been incapable of seeing snow in person - she is either called away from snowy regions or the snow melts or does not fall upon her arrival.

>>796220
A homosexual male witness was asked to engage in a sexual act with the mafioso, and willingly complied. After doing so and parting ways, the witness now exhibits the ability to naturally repel sexually transmitted diseases and attract romantic attention from others at will.

A successful fashion designer who witnessed such an event was asked, by a mafioso who appeared in the nude, for his clothing so as to not freeze to death. The witness refused and left. The designer as since failed at creating any successful new designs as has been forced to switch careers.

The last of the known witnesses at this time, a hunter, was asked to fix the mafioso's gun. Although the hunter had never experienced such a weapon, the problem was a simple and common mistake with an easy fix. Since the event, the hunter reports never having trouble with his weaponry again. He also believes his success rate when hunting has gone up, but it may be unrelated to the event.

There is this weird guy on /x/ who posts once a year at November 1st. He writes: "Come, sing a song. Tell me what's wrong"
His message lasts exactly for 5 minutes until being deleted. However, if someone manages to reply to his post, one personal wish will come true within a month, but person whose wish is granted will die in a horrible accident the next year.

Somewhere out in the middle of Kansas where there's little else but a stretch of lonesome road, there's a cell phone tower about 24 feet from the road. You can get great reception from this tower if you're near it. 5 bars of signal and all that. Call anyone you like - you'll hear them loud and clear (assuming they have good reception too).

Call anyone but 911. They won't be able to triangulate where you are based on the tower signals. Why?

Because the cell phone tower doesn't officially exist. It's not in any computer system or on any maps. There are no records of it connecting with any current phone systems. No phone company, person, or agency admits to placing it there, and it isn't connected to any visible cables for data transmission or satellite dish access or electricity. It's just a tower that sits there relaying your calls.

>>796223
Why did you ruin that awesome picture/concept by a shitty comment? Seriously, all this DO THIS THAT HAPPENS OR YOU DIE bullshit is not creepy. Not at all. It's not even entertaining. Way to go faggot.

>>796225
Obviously hasn't been on /x/ very long.

>>796229
Or, on second thought, hasn't looked at the dates of the posts in the picture.

>>796223

Interests me

In northern Colorado there's a Chinese restaurant that serves only Chinese food. Cause you know - a lot of Chinese buffets have American food for little kids and crap. But I digress. This place serves only Chinese food.

One day some college kids were there and when asked what they wanted to eat, one of the guys jokingly said he wanted a pizza. Everyone laughed except the impatient waitress, but he ordered something off the regular menu and the friends waited for their food.

When she came back with the first two plates of food, the guy joked around again and said "Hey, where's my pizza?" The woman looked irritated and walked off.

When the second two plates of food were delivered, the guy was about to start his meal but again decided to ask "When is my pizza gonna be ready?" The waitress stormed off and returned 2 minutes later with a large pepperoni pizza covered in thick gooey cheese and rich tomato sauce.

>>796233
The guy stared in disbelief and then thanked the waitress. As his friends giggled at him he reached cautiously for the pizza. He ended up eating the pizza - his friends not having any because they thought maybe the woman spit in it or something.

The waitress and staff of the restaurant didn't talk at all to the group for the rest of the night. When the bill came, he wasn't charged for the pizza. When the friends left and headed home their separate ways, there was a car accident involving this guy crashing into a highway median and flipping the car.

The injuries due to the accident would not have been severe, but he was found dead nonetheless. The official cause of death was ruled to be starvation - even though his friends had witnessed him not 30 minutes prior eat an orange chicken platter, 4 helpings of friend rice, and... a pizza.

>>796223
That is a fucking excellent picture.

It deserves a better story.

>>796235
The point of the picture is that it's based on the accompanying creepypasta, which is practically an /x/ meme.

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.

>>796093
you know I like the idea of these things being narrated. but frankly I think you are trying to hard to sound creepy and dramatic with your voice. I suggest toning it down a little and going for a more natural tone, as it is, it sounds like Solid Snake is narrating.

Anywhose, I'm off to bed. If by some miracle this thread is still around by the time I'm awake I'll continue posting more; still have about a third of my small creepypasta collection left.

Give my videos a gander if you haven't already. If it's any consolation to those of you who like the creepypasta I've been posting, I'd like to turn most of these into videos of their own in the long run.

ur doin it wrong.


crappypasta does it better.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-8gJ8VIA4s

>>796243
Hmmm, that's what I was going for when I made the first one, I wanted it to sound kinda plain like just some random guy was telling a story about some stuff that happened to him but then people were suggesting I try for a more creepy tone.

Maybe I'll have to shoot for more of a happy medium the next time then...

>>796245
I like his mirror one better.

He apparently enjoys the crap I've slapped together so far though too. As far as I know we're the only people doing anything like this so far.

Okay, really off to bed now...

Hello, /x/. I just wanted to post one more note that I'd posted my latest narrated creepypasta a few days ago. It's based on the classic red eyes creepypasta.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wfPRckQRTm8

Also, if you haven't seen it yet, check out my first entry at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mCrdG7NLsqk

I've received a decent number of thumbs up so far from both inside and outside /x/, but there's been some criticism as well. Any pointers or ideas on how to improve or change future projects would be welcome.

Also, in an attempt to keep this topic a little more alive than my previous ones, it's creepypasta spam time

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…

>>797095
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…

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.

>>797099
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.

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.

>>797137
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.

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.

>>797355
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…

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

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

The bombardment moved to other ends of the line, most men dropped off to sleep in the still dark hours of the morning - New Year’s Day, 1945.

>>797996
The men awoke at first light with screams. They discovered that their bandages were not typical bandages at all, but hunks and strips of human flesh. Several men had been given fresh blood transfusions, with no blood supplies available. Each treated man was almost completely covered, head-to-toe, with the maroon stain of blood.

The medic was found, sitting on an ammunition tin, staring off into space. When one man approached him, tapped him on the shoulder, his tunic fell off to reveal all skin, muscle, and sinew had been stripped from his torso and his body almost completely dried of blood. In one hand was a scalpel, and in the other, a blood transfusion vial.

>>796224
can't triangulate because there's only one tower

>>798047
Do you even know what triangulate means?

I don't think you do.

The last 5 stories are from ED's creepypastas.

>>796214
good lord why would you want to DO that one? nothing good happens.

really really interesting though. i like all of these, they're a unique change from all the others that have been read a dozen times.

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.

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.

>>798964
Wait, so you peaked into your sisters room to find out that shes fine. Then later figuring out your family has been a figment of your imagination after their grizzly bullet murder... but... WHO WAS ISISTER?!

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.”

>>799323
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.

Zzzzzzzzzzzzz.........

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.

>>800165
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….”

>>800166

Its rural russia, why the hell does the kid speak english?

>>799323
>>799325
this one sounds really fucking awesome. i am seriously almost tempted to try it. of course i do value my life so i might just try and convince someone else to try it for me.

fucker you better wake up soon. btw.

i want more of this shit.

>>796223

Shopped. C'mon, I'm a newfag, and even I can tell.

bump for moar

this stuff is good

bumped

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.”

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.”

>>800313
It's easy to just explain it away like that now, but I personally saw the thread on /x/ the night I copied down pretty much every creepypasta in this thread from a long running creepypasta thread at the time. It's not as crazy now that over a month has gone by but at the time it was pretty trippy.

This is an awesome thread, thank you OP

POST MORE GOD DAMN IT

I’m hoping at least /x/ will enjoy this because it’s probablt fucked me up
for life. It’s seeming a lot more absurd as time passes (12 days since I
moved my shit into my friends place), so I want to get this out there and
have people call bullshit and pass judgement, because I think it’ll make me
feel better.

I’ve moved out all my stuff, I’ve already called the cops, and informed my
absentee landlord. I’ve done all the proper things, so there’s nothing left
to do but share my little fucked up city living story.

About six months ago, my girlfriend and I moved into an apartment in the
Benton Park neighborhood of St. Louis. About two weeks after we move in, her
grandfather, who raised her, has a fucking stroke, and she ends up going
home to Twin Oaks to take care of him. She was living with him full time
until we can find out how to afford a nurse or hospice.

Anyway, I’d been living in our one bedroom all alone for the last half a
year. It’s beautiful, newly remodeled, double paned windows, great
insulation. The best a couple of hicks turned yuppies could want. It’s got a
couple of weird things about it, as you’ll see. There’s only four units in
the building, on the second and third floors. We’re on the top floor.

>>801038
The first weird thing about the place we noticed right when we moved in. The
walls and floors are paper thin. I could hear every word of my downstairs
neighbors conversation at all times. I know when they take a shower, I know
when they fuck. And I’m sure they know the same about us. It’s weird, the
more info we had on eachother, the less we wanted to actually know each
other.

They moved out six weeks ago. Then the other two units went vacant a week
later. It was kinda weird, but also kind of awesome. I could fnally stomp
around, watch porn and play rock band at full volume.

About four weeks ago, it got weird. It was about 1 am, and I was going to
bed, and I started to hear this noise from the empty apartment downstairs.
Really quiet at first, but sustained. It sounded halfway between a hushed
conversation, with only one person talking, and small motor running. Just a
babbling, not quite regular drone. Freaked me out at first, but I
rationalized that it was some plumbing or the refridgerator downstairs.
Something I’d never heard over my downstairs neighbors farting and snoring.
I learned to live with it, as it rose and fell every evening. Pretty soon a
steady tapping sound started in with mumbling. I know it sounds fucked up,
but when you hear it every night for a while, you just make excuses for it.

Then I kept hearing boards creeking. It’s spring, my first in this building,
so I assumed it was just the old boards under the new drywall settling. Then
one night, as I was brushing my teeth, there was a mighty dry thump, right
behind me. I just about stabbed myself with my toothbrush. I stayed really
still till I was sure there wasn’t anyone in the house and then turned on
all the lights in the house. This is when I noticed the peculiarity in the
remodeling.

>>801040
On the other side of the bathroom, where I heard the thump, is the hall
closet. I open it up, and switch on the light, expecting a box to have
fallen of the shelves, but it’s all gravy inside. I tap on the wall between
the closet and the bathroom, and it sounds oddly hollow. And I start to
realize that the closet isn’t as wide as I think it should be based on the
bathroom. I pace it out with my feet, and then a tape measure just to
confirm. Sure enough, there’s about 30? of space inbetween the two walls
that I thought were adjacent.

Again, rationaliztion time: Surely theres extra insulation there to keep the
bathroom warm, or maybe walls are thicker than I imagined, becuase fuck,
I’ve never built a house. So in this one thick wall, some huge fucking rat
must have taken a tumble and freaked me out. No big deal. I felt a lot
better at the time; even better when it was the first night in a while
without that wierd noise below me.

So, everything is fine until last friday night. It’s about two in the
morning and I’m home late from the bar, not as drunk as I want and
remembering that left all my clean laundry in the dryer before I went out.
One thing sticks out as I climb the stairs: The door to the apartment below
me is closed. It’s been open since the neighbors vacated. I got kind of used
to seeing an empty mirror image of my place every day when I walked past.
Maybe the landlord was showing it to people today. Rationalize, rationalize,
rationalize.

>>801043
I bag up a small load of laundry and climb down the back porch steps to the
laundry room, which is really just part of the garage, but the staircase in
on the outside of the building and it gives each floor a little shared
porch. I get down there, and into the little room, and I start bagging up
all my clothes into this big black duffel bag.

Two things you should know about me at this point. I turn off every light
when I leave a room. No matter what. My dad used to beat the shit out of me
when the energy bill was a penny over the norm. And I also lock the door
every time I go through it. Hell I even locked the back door when I went
down to get my laundry.

I start back up the stairs and on the first flight I look up, straight to my
bedroom window. The light is on. And there’s a silhouette against the closed
blinds.

I pissed myself a little and every hair on my neck snapped to fucking
attention.

And then the light goes out. It happened in less than a second. Ten seconds
later I’m still frozen in place, and trying to figure out if I just saw what
I think I saw. Rationalization lost out, thank fucking god, and I snuck down
the stairs and out through the garage. I called a cab and stood across the
street from the building lookin at my living room window. About five minutes
before the cab showed up, the venetian blinds parted slightly for a few
seconds, like someone was looking down on me. Then nothing.

>>801045
I stayed at a hotel that weekend, then a couple of buddies of mine came back
with me on sunday to see how much stuff had been stolen.

It was all there. My laptop was still charging, my brand new plasma TV. The
doors were locked. I moved it all out that afternoon. While my friends were
with me, and I had the daylight on my side, I checked out the apartment
below me.
The downstairs closet had the same abnormally thick wall.

Only someone had hammered through this wall, a big round jagged whole,
exposing the tiny crawl space between.

And in this space flat against the wall, was a cheap hardware store ladder;
leading up throught the darkness, to the space behind the walls, in my
apartment.

>>801046
I don’t know how he got into my apartment from there, maybe throught the
heating vents in my ceiling. I really don’t give a shit. All I care about is
never seeing that building again. I mailed my keys to the landlord, told the
whole thing to a terminally disinterested cop. Done my part, moving on. Quit
my shitty job, which might be the one good thing about this.

I’m typing this at a friends house on his wi-fi. I was going to take this
convienent time to get the fuck out of dodge, and move in with my girlfriend
and her grandpa, but he died two nights ago. Still think I’d like to head
back into the country, but I guess this is like a clean slate for us.

I haven’t told her yet, and I’m not sure if I will. Told her our landlord
went apeshit and kicked me out. She’s already got issues with security and I
don’t want to add to them.. But I don’t ever want to live in an apartment,
or hear people moving beneath my feet, or on the other side of a wall. Never
again.

I was 12, and it was 9 o' clock at night. i was about to go to bed, but I decided to make a PB+J before I went to bed. The house is quiet, my mom having already gone to bed. I'm in the kitchen making my sandwich when I hear a surprised gasp coming from the dining room. I look up, and there's a woman in the kitchen. Even today, I can still remember so many details about her, she seemed so solid, so real. She was about 5 feet tall and slightly overweight. She had blonde hair and brown eyes. She's also holding a big steak knife. I am frozen, my eyes wide, but too shocked too move. She too, is staring at me with a terrified expression. Suddenly she screams and drops the knife, vanishing right before my eyes. Until she disappeared I would have bet my life on her being real. The really odd thing was, she had acted like she had just seen a ghost.
true story btw

>>801433
... I fit that description perfectly. One night I was in the kitchen cutting fruit with a knife so I could have some snacks, and I could have sworn I saw someone. My hand started shaking, and I had to put the knife on the counter because I got the odd feeling that I was about to hurt someone. Doesn't match up -too- close, but... close enough.

>>796093


Completly awesome anon!

I cant sleep now!

:D

Mr. Jack Worldly, a hard working and skeptical man, stood outside his vandalized bungalow with a look of shock and awe on his face. The front door had been left open for all in the quiet neighborhood to see; not that he had much of value to begin with. He took to a search for anything that the vandal had taken, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, and certainly nothing important missing from his home.

Tired and confused about the whole ordeal, he finally found the energy to fall asleep late that night while scanning the web for any related news stories on his brand new computer. He was awoken by the dull sounds of his alarm clock in the other room, his tired mind quick to come to the conclusion that it'd just been a random act.

It was not the last he'd seen, however, as the same thing happened day after day when he came home from work. Every time he'd leave the house his door would be open, even if he'd only left for an hour to head downtown. Full of questions and lacking any answers, the middle aged man got an idea to capture the vandal that'd been breaking in. He hooked up several surveillance cameras all over his home, pointing first to the door and all through the hallways. He placed most of them inside his guest room where he had his computer, as it was obviously the most expensive things in his house.

>>802326
Proud of his job after making sure everything was in order, he swiftly slept the night away and was anxious to come home from work the next day. Finding nothing out of the ordinary when he came home and saw the door wide open, he sat at his computer to review the footage he'd taken.

The footage of his front door finally revealed the 'vandal', if it could be called such. The picture was fuzzy, but from such a short distance it was easy to make out just how dark the creature's skin was. It were as though its body were made of black veins and smoke; two sunken red eyes inside a deformed head. It walked into the home, and as he watched, he thought that surely the camera couldn't be seeing such things.

"Such a horrible sight could not exist..."

The figure walked all around the home. It touched the carpet with its dark hands; it seemed to reach inside every mirror like it were a puddle of water. Jack kept watching and furrowing his brow, seeing the monstrosity blink several times before creeping into the guest room. Jack kept watching, sweat running down his brow, as he watched the creature open the closet. Jack could feel his heartbeat slow down, as he heard the closet behind him slide open.

Unfortunately, that's the last of my (admittedly small) creepypasta collection.

nooooooooo

this shit was fucking great. creepy but not outright scary. just enough to give me the heebie jeebies. and it was all well written. i fucking need more!

One of my favorites:

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

"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.

>>802478

ITP: Newfag or troll

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

>>802488

Is that one that we're not allowed to like? Fuck you and your standards, I thought it was good.

>>802491

Yeah, troll

It's early morning. The sun won't be up for another couple of hours. You're fast asleep in bed, lost in a dream, when the phone rings. Rather than waking up, you roll over and cover your head with a pillow.
Hours pass. The sun rises.
The phone is ringing.
When you wake up, your alarm clock is blaring and the phone is ringing. By the time you will yourself to turn the alarm off, the phone has stopped ringing. You realize that it's been ringing all morning.
You slide out of bed and press the blinking red button on your phone as you stumble into the bathroom. The phone beeps, followed by the friendly, electronic voice.
Hello. You have six hundred and sixty-six new messages. Message one. The phone beeps again, and you're not prepared for what comes next.
Screaming.
You spin around, thinking that she's standing right behind you. There's pure terror in her screams, accompanied by other disturbing noises. You stand there, horrified, for about ten seconds. Screaming gives way to hysterical, garbled crying before dying out with the sounds of spilling meat and tearing flesh.
The phone beeps again. You're shaking.
Message two.

93471198

You wake up in the dark of night to a hissing sound that sounds like it's coming from your kitchen. You flip the light switch, but the electricity is dead. You curse and get out a flashlight from the closet. Closer investigation reveals that the source of the sound is under the sink. You place the flashlight on the floor so as to have both hands free to determine the cause of the problem. As you crawl in under the sink, the flashlight goes out and you can hear a voice. "Bad idea."

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.

During the summer of 1983, in a quiet town near Minneapolis, Minnesota, the charred body of a woman was found inside the kitchen stove of a small farmhouse. A video camera was also found in the kitchen, standing on a tripod and pointing at the oven. No tape was found inside the camera at the time.
Although the scene was originally labeled as a homicide by police, an unmarked VHS tape was later discovered at the bottom of the farm's well (which had apparently dried up earlier that year).
Despite its worn condition, and the fact that it contained no audio, police were still able to view the contents of the tape. It depicted a woman recording herself in front of a video camera (seemingly using the same camera the police found in the kitchen). After positioning the camera to include both her and her kitchen stove in the image, the tape then showed her turning on the oven, opening the door, crawling inside, and then closing the door behind her. Eight minutes into the video, the oven could be seen shaking violently, after which point thick black smoke could be seen emanating from it. The camera then continued to point at the oven for another 45 minutes until the batteries apparently died.
To avoid disturbing the local community, police never released any information about the tape, or even the fact that it was found. Police were also not able to determine who put the tape in the well.
...or why the physical stature of the woman on the tape did not in any way resemble the stature of the woman found in the oven.

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 occurred 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.

Truth: More frightening than fiction.

A recent study by the National Psychiatric Institute in Boston, MA, concluded that no activity can account for the phenomenon known as nightmares. Whereas many dreams come from unconscious desires, most nightmares seem to come from an outside source independent of the individual. In fact, when subjects are asked to recall nightmares they are almost always found in the same memory section as actual physical memories, not the section where normal dreams are replayed.

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

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

Then it is done. Are you sure of what you have seen? Unsettled, you don’t sleep for the rest of the evening.

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

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

“Please return the mirrors. We miss watching you sleep at night.”

Ever since I was a little kid, I would see shit in mirrors. Not just the occasional corner-of-the-eye shit, I mean, I would see people opening the door, walking in, and sitting down on the bed, brushing their hair, or whatever might go on, and when I blink or focus, it disappears.

The weird thing is, what I see gets worse as I get older. It used to just be the door opening, or someone opening the door and walking in. Then it got to where I could hold conversations with them. Now it's gotten to the point where the people talk to me, threaten me, and tell me what I shouldn't do.

I'm pretty sure they can't see the computer from here, otherwise, I would never be typing this. I just went to take a piss a few mintues ago, and I was just standing there, looking in the mirror, when a young woman walked in and reached out to the mirror. It seemed to me she had her entire arm through the mirror, reaching for me, searching for me. I swear I felt her hand around my neck. I strained my eyes and blinked a few times, and she disappeared. Moments later, a young male walked in, and he pressed his face against the glass and said, really low, "You can't hold us back forever. Eventually, this window will open, and we'll all come out."

Okay, those are most of my favorites. Somebody else take over.

>>802511

hate to seem stupid but I don't fucking get this one.

There are numerous mistranslations in the Bible, as it is known. Some are genuine misunderstandings, others may be euphemisms. Most of them were conveniences. A good load of intangible mess was removed. The Bible dropped in size considerably over the years, and with good reason.

A complete, original translation? Only one man has ever come close. His name was Abdul Alhazred, the Mad Arab.

Thanks for keeping this thread alive guys. There's been some really awesome additions, I especially like>>802489and>>802494

>>802485
>>802517
>>802519
>>802527
Are more classics.

crappypasta, who also makes videos on YouTube based on creepypastas, has an awesome video based on>>802527(which I'd previously referred to as "the mirror one") at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyopd8nedng

He's also working on a new one based on "mommy's skin">>802485

>>802550
H.P. Lovecraft allusion there.