File :-(, x, )
Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
/x/ in an attempt to make you not suck, I suggest we have a good ol' fashioned creepy thread. General creepypasta, mindfucks, pics and youtube links to make you shit bri/x/, real life paranormal encounters, etc., all in this one thread right fucking here.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
I'll start. My grandpa died recently. I didn't really know him very well so I wasn't sad or anything, but apparently he had left some money for me and I had to go to the funeral and blah blah blah... anyway, among his possessions was a polaroid camera and a single photograph. It showed a dark horizon line with a few lights from a nearby town, the side of my grandpa's house, and two red lights floating somewhere up above the roof. We had all just assumed the lights to be the flashing red lights on an electrical tower. My grandpa lived alone out on an old highway a few miles from town, and his house was near an electrical tower. Even though we couldn't figure out why grandpa would take a photo of the tower, we put it out of our heads and went about the business involved in handling a death. I completely forgot about the picture until one day last week I drove up to my grandpa's house to retrieve an old blanket for my mom. While I was there I realized why grandpa had taken the picture. The electrical tower was on the opposite side of his house from the town. If grandpa had pointed the camera towards the town, and been beside his house, he couldn't have gotten the electrical tower in frame. Whatever my grandpa was photographing, it was jet black, had bright red eyes, and was at least twenty feet tall.
>> Anonymous
>>931593
shiiiiiit
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
I'm sure everyone on /x/ has seen this but it's a good place to start.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deoJUBW9CI8
>> Anonymous
bump for future bri/x/
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
A little clip from the Gable film. Again, I'm sure everyone on /x/ has seen this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J0FixIHPvIM
>> Anonymous
>>931593
Nice.
>> Anonymous
A creepy thread is always good. I'm in bed and I'm dying for some bri/x/.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
Have some audio recordings of sasquatches.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H5auC7_1Q5Y
>> Anonymous
>>931593
This was good. Quick, simple. I got a nice chill from it.
>> Anonymous
Moar
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
Some really bad quality video of a shadow person sighting.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V2OGpErMFSg
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
A possible skinwalker video. Turn your speakers down.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AedQyic4Jeo&NR=1
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>931721

Another possible skinwalker video.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-iYBNb5-X8&feature=related
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
I can't find anything else, /x/

I'll post a creepy comic then leave.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931823
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931827
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931829
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931830
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931831
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931833
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931834
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931839
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>931842
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
That's all I got, /x/.

Keep this thread alive or not IDFC.

Enjoy your fail. Alone.
>> Anonymous
All this shit started when I found that little note.
On a square piece of paper I found at the bottom of a box I was moving out of my basement, it read, "HELLO? PLEASE RESPOND". I had no idea how long the paper had been there, those boxes had sat in my basement since I moved in. I ignored it until the next morning, when I opened my coffee maker to throw out the grounds, and inside was a sopping wet piece of paper that read "PLEASE RESPOND! PLEASE HELP". I figured it must have been put inside my coffee maker by whoever was pulling this pointless prank, because it wasn't there when I put my coffee grounds in.
I found more notes, under my mousepad, inside my computer tower while I was putting in some new RAM, between the layers of tissue of my toilet paper roll, under my DVD player's disc tray. Places that no one would ever look, places you'd never think of putting a note, places you knew no one would ever look and it would be foolish to put a note, because who knew when they would see it?
But it kept happening, and they all said the same thing every time, begging me to respond and help them. Being the retard I am, one day I just got fed up when I found one inside a cup in my dishwasher(right after I had run it- the paper was dry) I wrote on the back of it "HELLO. I'M RESPONDING. PLEASE EXPLAIN YOUR SITUATION!" and slid it under a crack in my bath-fitted tub.
No sooner had I left my bathroom did I find another piece of paper, floating on the surface tension on the surface of my glass of sprite I had in the living room.
>> Anonymous
I carefully picked it out of my drink, it read "THANK YOU." and in larger letters, "I'M TRAPPED".
I waved it around to dry it off a bit, and wrote on the back of it again, "where are you trapped? how are you sending me notes?" and, not creative enough to think of where to put it, I just threw it behind my couch. I waited and looked, but I didn't see any other notes for the rest of that day.
The next day I checked my mail, inside of some spam letter was the next note, "IN THE SECOND DIMENSION. BELOW YOU". I wasted no time in responding "whoever you are, this prank is retarded. give it a rest" and threw it outside, the wind blew it away.
The next note I got was still in obnoxious capital letters, though it was much longer than before and the last sentence seemed to have been squeezed into the remaining space. I think it was a passage from some encyclopedia or textbook. "The first dimension is a defined point in space. The second dimension (this was underlined) is anything that exists with height and width, while the third adds on length. The fourth includes time, the and the fifth is the past: time that has already occurred and is solidified in timespace." Everything beyond that was too squished in to read. I rolled my eyes and responded again, "How can you read this if you're in the second dimension? How can you even exist??" I slipped this note into the space in my toaster between the element and the metal casing.
my reply came when I brushed it out of my hair the next morning before I took a shower. "WRITING IS 2D. VISION IS 2D- TWO 2D IMAGES SUPERIMPOSED."
That didn't really get to the point of how I was supposed to "rescue" this person, which I defined in my next note that I flushed down my toilet.
>> Anonymous
>>931721
Skin walker?
>> Anonymous
"MAKE ME 3D" was all that was on the new slip of paper I found inside of a chocolate bar I unwrapped, later on. How the idiot was putting these inside sealed products was beyond me but at this point I decided to play along, maybe it was some kind of TV show thing.
"how?" was all I wrote for my reply. I remember exactly where I put it, because it was the last thing I wrote for a long time. I put it in a crack between my length mirror, and it's wooden backing. As soon as I let go it slid out of sight and I didn't see any papers again for a year and a half.
Getting dressed one morning for work, I went into my room and adjusted my tie and shirt in my mirror, the same one, only it was now on the opposite side of my room. Looking into it, I noticed a square behind me on the wall. Turning around, there was none. In the instant before I turned around again I thought it must have fallen off, but in the mirror it was still there, still suck to the wall. I touched my mirror thinking maybe it was some sort of warping or optical illusion, but it wasn't.
>> Anonymous
I lifted my heavy mirror up from the ground and slowly walked backwards with it, nearing myself to the opposite wall on which the paper was stuck. The closer I got, the clearer the message on it became, until I stopped, sandwiched between the heavy mirror and the wall, looking at the paper immediately over my shoulder: "MAKE YOU 2D" it said.

I moved the fuck out of that house as soon as I could. After bunking at my girlfriend's for a while, I got the fuck rid of the mirror, the toaster, everything. My heart still skips a beat when I see any perfectly square piece of paper, sitting on the floor, all alone. I still live in fear of some day I'll open up a book or look in the inner lining of a jacket, and a piece of paper will flop out.

I check all my things, now. Constantly. I also don't drink coffee anymore.
>> 'nother one Anonymous
I used to be fearless.

Horror movies never really scared me. Scary books had no effect. Haunted houses are meaningless. I was never a child who slept with the covers over their face, or with a night light. As a little girl, I never felt the need to crawl into bed with my mother after having a nightmare. I never really had nightmares to begin with, and the few that I did, most would never consider a nightmare at all.

I've simply never been afraid of what goes bump in the night. Our home security system kept away fears of very real humans with dark intentions, as did our rottweiler, aptly named Killer. As for threats outside the home, well, who could be afraid in a nice, white, upper class community? I've lived in a bland bubble all my life, never knowing what fear is.

So why should I ever be afraid of the dark?

Up until this moment, I haven't been. I saw it as childish and illogical. Of course, I don't feel that way anymore. I'm writing this to you now as a warning because it's too late for me. I know that now, and it's brought on a surreal sort of calm…When I finish warning you, it will be all over. So forgive me if I'm being long-winded…I enjoyed life a bit more than I was once willing to admit.
>> Anonymous
It all started with what I thought was a virus. I had been linked to a video called "Girls and Boys Come Out to Play." It sounded harmless enough. I thought it was an art student's film, perhaps. The person who had linked the video promised it was very good. Well worth watching.

I can't remember the video. All I can remember is the feeling it brought up. It wasn't fear, but it was close. I was uncomfortable. I was unnerved. I was also vaguely ill.

From then on, things only got worse. The background on my computer had changed to a picture of a disturbed looking young woman who stared at me from a black abyss. Every now and then, and growing more frequent by the day, strange noises would emit from my computer, even when the sound wasn't on. Screaming, strange laughter, grinding noises…

At the time, I was annoyed; the fear hadn't settled in quite yet. Then, the faces started popping up, like those ridiculous 'screamers' that scared my friends in high school. Yet these were different. They looked real. They were the faces of the dead; and they had died violent deaths.

I wish I could say that I stopped using the computer, but I couldn't. My job requires me to use my computer frequently. What was I to do? I had no other computer available to me.
>> Anonymous
I tried to take it in to have the virus removed, but no one could help me. They said there wasn't a virus. They said the computer was fine.

Meanwhile, it got worse. The faces weren't just popping up; they would stay. And with those horrible, rotted eyes, they would hold my gaze. I couldn't look away from them and their terrible, mocking grins. And oh, God…the smell. My computer forever had a vague stench of death around it.

I thought I was going crazy. I thought that perhaps someone was messing with me. The people at the computer repair place didn't know what they were talking about. Something was wrong, but I knew that it had to be something very real that just had to be fixed.

So I got a new computer. Everything was fine for a while, but then it all came back, and in full force. Now there were voices. Now there was screaming. Now, the rotted faces showed their stinking bodies. I could see every maggot, every fly, every pus-filled crevice…And they were calling to me. Telling me that soon, very soon, I'd be joining them. They were so angry that I had tried to get rid of them, and now they would make me pay.
>> Anonymous
I didn't know what to do. Ignoring the problem wasn't working. I thought maybe it was the fault of a friend from work. Perhaps it came from the emails they had been sending me? I never thought it was the video. Not for a second. After all, that just wasn't logical.

I was at the end of my rope. Today, I unplugged the computer and began packing. I would go on vacation, clear my head, and pray that everything would be back to normal.

A few minutes ago, I realized it would not. The power went out, and for the first time in my life, I felt true fear. I had no idea that in a few moments, it would become mind-numbing.

I stumbled through the house, looking for a flashlight, when I saw that something was still giving off light.

The computer.

The unplugged computer was on, and the woman in the background was moving. Beckoning me over.

I couldn't help myself. I sat down across from her with the darkness caving in all around me. And then the woman, like all of the other images I've seen before, began to rot away. The whole scene rotted away, and then the screen went black. And without light, without a means of seeing my reflection, I saw her behind me for the briefest of moments, a bloody and rusted knife in hand. The computer came back to life, and my old background had returned.
>> Anonymous
But I know it's not over.

So I've decided to come here. I know you all like to be scared, right? Well, take it from someone who has only very recently known fear: it's not always worth it, and not everything is fun and games.

Of course, you probably wont believe me. Why should you?

The thing is…I haven't been completely honest with you. There was no video. It was a story. A story quite similar to this one, though with subtle plot differences and perhaps better story telling. I know all of you like stories that might give you a good scare. That's probably why you started reading mine.

Now that you've read this, you'll share my fate. I know it's cruel, and perhaps unfair, but it has to be done. I just hope that you can take comfort in knowing that when I'm the woman haunting your computer, I'll be a bit more gentle. If I can, I'll use a blade that's a little less dull. Pictures of those who came before us who are a little less grotesque. Sounds that are a little less alarming.

But then again, you DO like to be scared, right?

Don't worry. I wont ask you to repost this story five times. Nothing will save you. After all, nothing could save me.

The power is still out. And I know, behind me, the woman is waiting for me. I'll see you very soon.

Goodbye for now.
>> The only way out - By Black Fedora Anonymous
Gregory A. Julian moved into the mansion on 481 Cayuga Dr. Soon, angry letters from the bank began to pour into his mail slot, threatening foreclosure unless he began to pay off his sizable loan. Three months later, the requisite amount of time had passed and an eviction notice was printed by my boss. And that’s the asshole that sent me, late Friday evening, just before I left for the weekend, to deliver the letter in person to the absent Mr. Julian. I ground my teeth as I wound my way through the suburbs looking for Cayuga Drive. Somehow, this man I had never knew or met had unwittingly conspired with my boss to ruin my evening plans.

481 stood at the end of the block, its windows dark, its flanks shaded by oaks twisting into the reddening sky. I parked the car next to a dusty BMW and walked up the short stone path to his (now the bank’s) front door. It seemed odd that the expensive car would be sitting unprotected outside of his spacious garage, an even layer of pollen coating the outside and a stack of moving boxes piled within. Also, it was bizarre that the heavy front door stood halfway open, a mountain of letters and bills spilling out the doorway and onto the walk. I rapped the brass knocker against the door, “Mr. Gregory Julian?” I called inside, “I’m from the bank; I have some important papers to give to you.” No reply.
>> Anonymous
I ventured a little further into the hallway and repeated myself louder. Still no reply. But squinting, I saw the soft glow of a light spilling down a staircase at the end of the hallway. A glance at the hour hand on my watch was all it took to send me inside the house in search of my quarry.

The antique mansion was completely paneled in oak and a thick red carpet covered the floor. Mr. Julian was apparently trying to remodel, as several feet of the wall had been pulled off and large patches of carpet had been torn up. His method of removal was in poor taste considering the age of the place; many of the holes appeared to have been simply smashed through, as though with a sledgehammer. Or maybe he was just trying to wreck the house before the bank could get its hands on it.

Continuing down the hall and reaching the top of the stairs I realized that the light was coming from a room on the other side of the second story landing. I picked my way around cardboard boxes piled along the floor, wondering what kind of man buys a mansion, neglects to pay his debt, and never bothers to unpack. The door stood slightly ajar, light shooting out around the edges.
>> Anonymous
Through the gap I glimpsed bookshelves and sofas; it appeared to be a small study. I knocked on the door, “Mr. Julian, I apologize for the intrusion, but I have papers that I need to hand you in person.” No reply.

I grabbed the doorknob and strode in.

The desiccated corpse of Mr. Julian lay flat on the carpet.

In one hand he clasped a pen; on the wrist of the other ran a jagged gash. I gagged – it didn’t take a doctor to determine that he had been dead for weeks. Well, that explained why his bills went unpaid.

A harsh lamp gleamed from the corner, coloring the room in sharp contrasts. A thin object, sitting on a desk in front of the late Mr. Julian, glimmered in the light. Curiosity got the best of me and I carefully skirted around the body, a dried pool of blood crunching into the carpet underneath.

A dagger lay on the table surrounded by a spatter of thick droplets. Its edge was encrusted in a thin red film; having been plunged into the flesh of its owner. Next to it sat a torn piece of paper with a scribble of black ink scrawled across. I grabbed it and held it up to the lamp, squinting to make out the barely legible writing;
>> Anonymous
“Dear Kate and Daniel and everybody else, There is no escape. This is the only way out. I’m so sorry. Destroy the house.

Greg J.”

A chill shot down my spine. With a shock it hit me that I was standing in a pool of blood next to a corpse in a dark house at night. I raced out of the room and down the stairs with a cold sweat breaking out on my face. I ran towards the front door, a wind blowing into the house and down the hall, whipping letters through the air, slamming the door shut. I grab the doorknob and pull. A bolt crunches against its lock. Confused, I run my hands across the handle searching for the latch.

There’s no latch – there’s not even a keyhole.

As my heart pounds, an image flashes across my scattered mind: the back door.

I sprint down the hallway, opening doors and racing through dark rooms, working my way across the house. Finally, I stumble across a moonlit alcove, where the light streams from a tiny window set into a metal door. I grab the immense handle, but again the door is bolted shut; no way to unlock it. I pound my fists against its heavy steel, but the frame doesn’t even budge. Stepping back, I realize that it resembles a bank vault; thick metal panels secured by hinges thicker than my hand, the safety glass inches thick, repelling all of my efforts to crack it.
>> Anonymous
A small piece of paper is taped onto it. I tear it off and hold it up to the window. Scratched in pencil it reads;

“There is no escape”

Something falls against the window, blotting out the light.

My feet fly back down through the house, back to the front door. The doors I had opened have all closed; I bash my way through them, their bolts bursting from the rotten walls as I charge towards the exit, lowering my shoulder, gritting my teeth.

As I round the last turn at top speed, the front door comes into view. Thick boards, pounded haphazardly into the wall, stretch across the doorway. Nails and broken glass embedded into the wood, the jagged tips jutting into the air. Barbed wire, strung like a net across the entrance, bits of flesh hanging off the rusty points.

Words burnt deep into the wood,

“There is no escape”

…shit…

I can’t stop myself fast enough; the barbed wire pierces into my guts and slashes across my face, but it also saves me, knocking me backwards onto the floor before I impale myself on the door. In pain, bleeding, I stumble away from the entrance, knocking my way through another door and stumbling into the dark. Suddenly, a step; the floor disappears and I fly head first onto hard ground, fireworks bursting before my eyes.
>> Anonymous
As the pain begins to fade I grope in the darkness for the walls. A chain falls into my hand. Instinctively, I pull it, and the garage lights up. I turn around just as the door behind me slams shut again. Whatever has me trapped in this house is closing in.

But next to the shut door a wire trails down the wall, ending in a familiar button. I slap the garage door switch.

It opens slowly, the wooden planks clanking upwards to reveal not the driveway but a dark onyx barrier - a wall of solid obsidian, glinting with malevolence. Etched into its surface that same awful epitaph;

“There is no escape”

My hope drains out of me like the red stain across my chest. I stagger backwards, collapsing across the tool shelves. Trapped…

Trapped. There is no escape. I realize I’m doomed; forever trapped inside the house until I grab the knife upstairs and plunge it into my veins. I slide down the wall, pulling the shelves down with me until I lie in a heap, surrounded by rusted tools.

As visions of suicide drift past my eyes, something cuts across the back of my hand. My imprisoned mind is captivated by the sight of what lies next to me.
>> Anonymous
It sits on the ground shiny and oiled, short blades glinting maliciously. A chainsaw. A goddamn chainsaw. Despite myself, I can’t stop laughing at the thought of revving it up and plunging it into my stomach, a red spray painting the walls of this fucking house, bone and guts grinding into a paste that splatters into the carpet. Crying with mirth I imagine the poor soul who’ll wander across my body weeks from now, recoiling in horror before making a futile dash for the closing door.

The door.

A new thought bubbles into consciousness, slowly pushing away my morbid thoughts.

The door.

My ears begin to pulse, my face feels hot. A new sensation wells up deep within me - the primal fury of a cornered animal. A fountain of energy flows through my veins and I stand up, rage slowly throbbing above the hopelessness. I grab the chainsaw with both hands. Flipping the choke, I rip the starting cord. put. put. VROOOOOWWMMMMM. The engine kicks into life and I swing it off the ground, revving the chains into a deafening harmony.

A grimace, a grin, almost, spreads across my face.
>> Anonymous
Back at the door. . The barbed wire hums with malice, but my fear is long gone. I swing the chainsaw high over my head, bringing it growling down onto the metal wires. With a shriek they split under the churning blades, snapping and twisting through the air like serpents. Ignoring the slashing wires I press forward, dicing the steel web into bits, the ends retreating before my crushing blows. I reach the door and with seething bloodlust plunge the chainsaw deep into the gap in the frame. I wrench downwards, the saw howling as it tears the wood apart, spitting shrapnel across the hallway. I hit the first hinge and gun the engine. A river of sparks flows from the disintegrating metal, landing on the broken planks of wood and catching them on fire. The chainsaw claws the frame to pieces as I press it downwards, another flurry of cinders spraying from the second hinge.

As fire crawls across the door and eats at the walls I wrench the saw out. With a roar I stab the deadbolt, smoke and flames spitting from the tip of the chainsaw. A shrieking cry shakes the mansion as the bolt shears. I plant my foot into the middle of the door and kick it out into the night, a shower of embers trailing behind it.

Wreathed in smoke I stumble out of the house. I drive home first. I need to see it, someplace familiar and safe, before being hauled off to the emergency room or the police station. Back in my living room, I pick up the phone and call the cops and the fire department, telling them to rush over to 481 Cayuga Drive. Then, looking in the bathroom mirror at my shredded face, I call an ambulance.
>> Anonymous
I stand over the sink, running water over the gouges and burns along my arms; the sweat and blood mixing with shredded fibers of wood that run down the drain. Grabbing some bandages, I patch myself up good enough to stop my bleeding to death. Closing my eyes I sit on the bathroom counter and rest my head in my hands. A gentle trickle of blood flows down my scalp. Blinking, I grab a towel off the rack and wipe the blood out. I open my eyes. And freeze. Beneath where the towel had hung, written in dripping, scarlet letters:

“There is no escape”

The door slams shut.
>> Anonymous
"Hey, buddy," says a nearby hobo. "Would ya like to hear an amusing tale about the time Boxcar Jimmy and I were chased by railroad bulls all the way from Topeka to Missoula?"

"Er, no. No thanks," you reply.

"How about the time I got caught stealin' a pie off a windowsill and had to hide in a trash can, and I fell asleep and woke up in the city dump?"

"Sounds like a great story, but no."

"How about the time I beat an adventurer senseless with a rusty tire iron and stole his boots?"

"No thank you... what's that you're holding behind your back?"
>> Anonymous
>>931861
>> Anonymous
>>931902
What with it?
>> Thanks for the creepypasta dump :D Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
Madame Storyteller and Black Fedora are great... I think that's who wrote those? Right?

Anyway, the news recently got me thinking about a story my grandpa told me a few years ago, before he was killed by mothman or whatever >:3

It was hurricane season. This was maybe thirty years ago. News reports were a lot slower back then, what with no internet, but the TV had the death tole from the most recent storm in the mid-teens. A passenger train wreck in another country had also recently taken thirty people's lives. My grandpa was sitting out on his front porch smoking a cigarette, thinking about death and which story was more tragic: a natural disaster, or a man-made train accident. Out of nowhere he spies a police car driving down the highway into town. This was back when the highway still saw major use. The cop car stops in front of my grandpa's house, and a uniformed officer steps out. It was dark, and the cop was ten, twenty yards away, but my grandpa swore up and down that the man had no face, just a shadow under his hat. The cop pointed at my grandpa and said, "That stuff you're thinking about, all about death just now, well I heard it. You shouldn't think about such things, especially not on a night like this, with people like me driving on your road." The cop got back into his car and left.

Thinking about that story, and reading on the internet about Hurricane Ike, and the train collision in L.A., well... I shat bri/x/.
>> Anonymous
OC right here, and a true story at that. You might have to wait as I type it all out, so bear with me.

A few weeks ago, three of my friends and I were spending the last weekend of summer together before we all went our separate ways to college. We'd spent the whole day going to the movies, eating ridiculously expensive sushi for lunch, and driving around town looking for something to do. As it got later in the day and the sun began to set over the mountains, we decided to drive out to a poorly-maintained graveyard somewhere in Brighton, Colorado. It wasn't my first choice of places to hang out at in the middle of the night, but my friend has a sort of morbid facination with graveyards, ghosts, and other paranormal-related things, so we decided to go. The week before that, we'd visited the Standley Hotel in Estes Park which is supposed to be haunted, but we were dissappointed when we didn't experience anything remotely scary except for my friend's mediocre driving, so we were looking for a truly brix-shitting adventure.
>> Anonymous
>>931984
Caaalifornia here we go! Right back wheeeere we started from. Californiaaaaaaaaa, californiaaaaaaaa
>> Anonymous
>>932008

It's "here we come" you son of a bitch
>> Anonymous
By the time we got to the graveyard, it was about ten o'clock at night, and I had no idea where we were due to all the turns we'd taken on the dirt road through the cornfields in the area. When we got out of the car, I made a couple of "children of the corn" jokes because we parked on a road in between a cornfield and the graveyard, and it was pitch black outside. My friends played along, but all of us were kinda on edge because of the creepyness factor of being near a cornfield and a graveyard in the middle of the night. It certainly didn't help that we'd been telling ghost stories and reciting creepypastas throughout the whole trip there. Nonetheless, we ignored the sign warning us that the graveyard was closed from sunset to sunrise, and we jumped the fence. We walked up and down the aisles of graves, looking at the ornate headstones, some almost a hundred years old. The whole time, we were whispering jokes about zombies and ghosts and zombieghosts, and catching little toads that hopped around on the path. Finally, after about a half hour, one of my friends dawned a very panicky tone of voice and half-whispered, "Fuck, there's someone over there!"

"Where?" I asked skeptically, scanning the length of the graveyard.
"I...I just saw them over there." She said, pointing at the spot. I looked again, and still saw nothing.
"I don't see anything, lets just keep going." Everyone else agreed, and we started walking again.

A few seconds later, she spoke up again, more urgent this time.

"Okay, I know there's something there. I just saw it moving, but it stopped."
>> Anonymous
>>932012
Thanks for the correction, much apreciated.
>> Anonymous
>>932021
Does the story end there?
>> Anonymous
We all stopped and stared again, but we still didn't see anything.

"are you sure you saw something?" Another friend asked.
"yes, right there, next to that kinda shiny gravestone over there. Just keep looking." She replied.
"keep walking, maybe we'll see it again." I said, and we resumed our pace, except we were all looking at the spot now.

A moment later, I realized what she had seen. I inqured about it.

"hey, are you sure you weren't just seeing a reflection of those lights on the gravestone? Cuz I just looked, and it almost looks like someone is moving over there when you start walking." She thought for a second and replied.

"Maybe, let's go check it out I guess."

We walked over to the grave, and on the way there, we realized that that was exactly what she had seen. We all laughed uneasily for a moment, and just kinda stood around the grave in an awkward silence until I read the name on the grave out loud.

"Riverdale," I said, jokingly, "that's who was moving around over here." The look on my friend's face suddenly lit up with a mix of excitement and fear.

"Wait, what did you say about Riverdale?"
>> Anonymous
Without even pausing to let me speak again, she told us all about Riverdale Road, which was supposedly haunted and conveniently located about twenty minutes away from where we were. Riverdale road is supposedly haunted by the ghosts of slaves that were tortured and killed there years ago. She told us that we just had to go check it out, because, like I said before, she has a facination with this sort of thing. We were all kinda spooked already, and I didn't know if I really wanted to be looking for ghosts in the middle of the night, but we agreed to go check it out. We walked out of the graveyard, hopped in the car, and drove to the first intersection of Riverdale Road without speaking a word. As soon as we turned onto Riverdale, my friend who was driving spoke up and asked what we were supposed to be looking for.

"Okay keep driving until we find a spot to pull over," She began," and then roll down the windows just a little bit and turn off the car. We'll see if the stories are actually true."
"but what are we supposed to do?" I asked.
"Just listen outside." she replied, and her tone of voice told me that the conversation was over.
>> Anonymous
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-k9MYEXciVg&NR=1

Freaked the poop right out of me
>> Anonymous
dammit, I made the last part too long...


we drove for a few minutes, and finally found a place to pull over. We experienced a little S.L.I at the first intersection, and I made a comment about it, but other than that, we didn't speak until the car was turned off and the windows were rolled down.
"Okay," she whispered to us, "You ready?"
we all nodded to eachother and waited, listening. For a moment, we didn't hear anything. I was getting a little nervous, but I kept listening. All we heard was the wind blowing lightly outside. I closed my eyes for a second, then opened them out of fear that I would miss the ghosts. The air in the car was tense with heavy silence, and I could tell that we were all thinking the same thing: "what are we waiting for?" My friend who was driving seemed a little more nervous than the rest of us, and he finally broke the silence.

"Okay, nothing's happening. Can we go?" His voice cracked a bit as he spoke.
"Sshhh..." I heard from the back seat, "just wait."
>> Anonymous
Just a few seconds later, my friend fumbled to stick the key into the ignition, and we could tell he wanted to leave.
"just a few more minutes, man" i told him, because I was curious at this point to see if there were ghosts or not. He sighed nervously, and sat back in his seat. At that exact moment, I heard a gasp from the back seat, and my friend whispered "outside!"

we listened hard, and over the sound of the breeze, we could hear the faint sound of a grinding rhythm, like the sound of someone running on gravel. it was almost silent, but we all heard it. My fists clenched tighter, but none of us moved. the sound grew slightly louder, as if someone was running closer and closer to us. Soon it was joined by a second set of steps, and then a third. It was louder now, and it sounded like a group of people were running past the car on both sides. We all stared out the windows, but no one was there. But we could hear it all around us and it kept growing, the sound of dozens of people sprinting past our car. Immediately, my friend, obviously terrified, shouted, "Okay, we're going!" and he turned on the car and floored it, peeling out of the side of the road and spraying gravel behind us.
>> Anonymous
Good end.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>931984
>>932021
>>932035
>>932056
>>932084
>>932085

Cool story, bro.
>> Anonymous
...but who was phone?
>> Anonymous
>>932169
I WAS PHONE
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>932169

>:|

also...

>>931866

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Skin-walker
>> The Button Day Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Laura was woken by her father; something that he had not done since she was a child. As her thoughts slowly swam back into focus, she was suddenly sure that she had slept naked and he had seen her, but to her relief she was wearing her baby-blue pyjamas. God, what was he doing in here anyway?

“Come on, you,” he said brightly, opening the curtains and letting the sunlight in. Outside, she could hear a lawnmower running, perhaps in the next street, and what could’ve been birdsong. “It’s Button Day, remember? Get dressed, put something nice on. We’re leaving in an hour.”

Laura stirred, her voice groggy. “Dad, what the hell? Couldn’t you just knock? What if I’d slept nude?”
He didn’t look at her, he was too busy admiring his garden from the window. “Oh, you’ve nothing I haven’t seen before. I’m your bloody father, I‘ve wiped your arse many a time before now.”

“Not the point, Dad.“ Squinting, Laura sat up, rubbing her eyes, and remembered what he’d just said.
“Dad, did you just say ‘Button Day’?”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
“Well, yeah. What, did you forget?” He laughed as he crossed the room to the door. “You were only talking about it last night.”

“Wait - what?” She frowned, not understanding. Something was wrong here. A fine way to start the day, really. She hadn’t even gotten out of bed yet, and she was already getting weird shit. “What are you talking about?”

He shook his head, still smiling as he left the room. “Get dressed. Breakfast is ready.”

He left her sitting up in bed, holding the covers to her breasts, a look of confusion on her face. Eventually she got out of bed, and began to pull some clothes on that were to hand. Familiar sounds floated up to her from downstairs: pots and pans rattling, the TV on low, the muffled tones of her family talking to each other, a short, harsh laugh - her brother. No doubt laughing at the TV.

She did her zipper on her jeans, and stood for a second before finally saying out loud, “Button Day?”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Downstairs, her mother was washing the dishes, humming to herself. Sunlight filled the room, making it warm and fresh. Her father and brother were sitting at the table, eating toast. There was a plate set for her, and she sat down, pulling it towards her.
Her brother was wearing a crisp white shirt - and he never wore shirts. She doubted that he even owned one. This was one of her father’s, she recognised it.

“What’s with the shirt?” She asked, picking her toast up, and his eyes never left the TV, which was typical of him. A year younger than her at fourteen, he was arrogant and know it all to boot.
“It’s Button Day, isn’t it?” He mumbled through a mouthful of toast, and her mother turned around, and tutted loudly at him.

“Mark, don’t talk with your mouth full.” She saw Laura and sighed. “Laura, you could dress a little better than that. At least make an effort.”

“What for?” Laura said, then looked at the ceiling, irritated. “Oh wait, let me guess. Button Day. Am I missing something here?”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Her mother shook her head, turning back to the dishes. “Don’t be so childish, Laura. It doesn’t suit you. Please make sure you get changed into something else before we leave.”

“I wanted to see Michael today. I’m not going with you, sorry.”

A hush fell over the kitchen as everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at her in surprise. Warily, Laura said, “What?”

“Are you crazy?” Her brother asked. “You can’t go out today, you’re coming with us!”

“Laura, you made plans? Today, of all days?” Her father asked, and she pushed back on her chair as a dull anger rose in her.

“Yes, I made plans! What the hell is going on this morning?”

No-one answered her. They were staring at her as if she’d took a crap on her plate. She got up, pushing her plate away. “You know what? Forget it.”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
“Laura, stop this, right now,” her mother snapped. “You knew perfectly well what we were doing today. It’s been planned for a long time. Now you can just call Michael and tell him why you’re not seeing him.”

“That’s just it!” Laura yelled. “What do I tell him? I don’t know why I can’t go! It’s just you telling me I can’t!”

“It’s Button Day,” her brother said. “That’s why.”

“Button Day?” She cried. “What the hell are you all talking about? I’ve never heard of Button Day! You’re all acting like-” She suddenly stopped, comprehension dawning on her face. Her family were playing a joke on her. This was all a joke. With a warm rush, a huge weight lifted from her shoulders. Now she understood.

“Very funny, guys,” She said, her voice calm and collected. “You really had me going there.” She turned and left the room, heading for the front door. As she went, her mother called after her, “Laura! Please be back in an hour, we can’t leave without you, okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Laura called back. “I wouldn’t want to miss Button Day, would I?”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
The short walk to Michael’s house gave Laura enough time to feel guilty about how angry she had gotten with her family. As she’d gotten older, her temper had shortened. She planned on apologising later - she had an hour, right? Wasn’t that what her mother had said?

I wonder where we’re going, Laura thought, watching a plane a few miles above cut a white line across the sky. Or was that a joke too? Was it that they really were going out, and it had been a planned thing, and she had simply forgotten all about it?

She could see Michaels house from here, with the white fence and broad front lawn. She began to jog, eager to see him. As she crossed his driveway the front door opened and Michael came out with a look of shock on his face. He had seen her coming up the street.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Laura asked, and to her dismay he suddenly looked a little angry.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said.

“What, did we fight, and I missed the memo?”

“You told me this was your family’s Button Day,” he said, and there was movement behind him.
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Laura blinked, her mouth open in surprise. A blonde girl came to the door, squinting in the light, and slinked her arm around Michael. She was wearing a nightshirt and nothing else, and her hair was tousled.

“Go home,” the blonde said, and Laura backed away, blinking back sudden tears. Michael would not meet her eyes, so she turned and ran.

Her mother caught her just as she was about to run into her bedroom.

She pulled Laura close, holding her as she sobbed. “I know, I know. Let it all out.” She stroked Laura’s hair, rocking her a little. “Men are bastards, aren’t they?”

Laura pulled back to look at her mother, sniffing. “…You know?”

“You’ve just come back from his place in floods of tears. It doesn’t take a genius to work out what happened.”

“He’s got himself a blonde. A blonde! I’ll bet that’s why he wanted me to dye my hair!”

She cried for a little longer, and her mother held her. “There, there. Come on. Let’s get you changed for our trip.”

“…So we are going out?”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
“Of course we are, silly! Here we are, this is a nice blouse. Your best, I think. Put this on, I want us looking our best for our Button Day.”

Laura’s stomach rolled lazily. She suddenly remembered Michael mentioning Button Day, too. This wasn’t a joke. This was real. It was all real, and she didn’t have a clue what was happening.

“Mom, listen to me a minute. Something here is very wrong.”

“I know. You really liked him, I know you did. It’s terrible that he’s upset you, on this day, of all days.”

“That’s just it, Mum - I don’t know anything about Button Day. I’ve never heard of it, and since this morning I feel as if I’m the only one who hasn’t the faintest idea what’s going on!”

“Well, to be honest, I’m no expert. I know it was the Governments idea to combat overcrowding, but other than that-”

“No, no. I mean at all. I’ve never heard of it.”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
There was an uneasy silence, in which her mother looked at her for a long time. Her mouth was set in a hard line.

When she finally spoke, her voice was calm. “I know you’re upset, so I’ll play along with your little prank, okay? Just get changed - here’s your blouse - and I’ll see you in the car in five minutes, okay? We’re waiting for you.”

Her mother walked away, leaving Laura alone and frightened, her best blouse in her trembling hands.

The next thing she knew, she was in the car. Everything was flowing by in a fluid, carefree motion that made her feel more and more uneasy. What the hell was going on? Why did she not recall anything about this day that everyone was talking about?

She could see everything in absurd detail, slowed down to super slow motion: The fluff on the back of her mothers headrest. A bit of stubble that her fathers razor had missed. A crack in the pavement as they passed. She suddenly felt more lucid than she had ever felt in her whole life, yet she was unable to speak, trapped inside her own body. It was as if she were a puppet, walking on strings made from fear’s own web.
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Somewhere deep inside, she was still clinging to an ocean-battered rock of hope, a charred crater of sense that told her that this was all a massive joke, a huge, elaborate hoax. As they pulled up outside the white, box-like building, squat and stern, that hope faded.

“Here we are,” her father said cheerfully, and she felt herself pull the door handle and step out of the car. She stood trembling in the sun like a baby deer, the building bearing down on her as if it had teeth.

Acting as if they were at the seaside, her family got out of the car, chatting animatedly. They set off towards the main entrance, Laura trailing behind. A sign stood over them: GOVERNMENT PROPERTY - KEEP OUT. She saw the security cameras watching them, and hurried after her family, her footsteps flat and dead.

The door to the building was made of glass, and as they pushed through into the clean lobby, Laura saw a receptionist busily typing on a computer. The receptionist looked up with a professional smile at her father as he approached.

“Hi, we’re the Krandalls. Here for our Button Day,” he said, and she smiled.

“Go on through, sir. Just keep walking that way.”
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Her father thanked her, and on they went, down a long brightly lit corridor, lined with brass plaques which gleamed. There was something engraved on them all, blocks and blocks of text, and she drew closer as she walked to see what it was. She saw her own reflection looking back at her, and in the harsh fluorescent lights, she looked haggard.

Names. Hundreds and hundreds of names, thousands of names, one after another. Hogg. Wilson. Carpenter. Buxton. Bell. Palmer. Rowe. Brown. The list went on, seemingly endless.
Her family walked on, still chatting as if they were on holiday, and up ahead the corridor was coming to an end.

The corridor opened up into a large, white room. In this room, four small, waist high pillars stood, each with a red button on the top. Beyond them was a long polished desk, with three Government officials seated at it. The Government insignia hung on a huge banner over it all. The room was silent, and sterile.

Laura watched her family each step up to a pillar, watching the officials expectantly, leaving a pillar for her. Her very own button. Trembling, she stepped up to the pillar, only to notice with a jolt that the floor around them all was on a slight incline, angled towards a drain behind that she hadn’t noticed when she had first arrived. One of the officials spoke, his voice echoing in the open space.
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
“Krandall family. The Government has deemed this to be your Button Day. We thank you for your sacrifice to your country, and to your people. Your names shall join those in the long Hall in your honour.”

“We’re proud,” her father said, and her mother nodded, sincere. Her brother looked as if he were about to weep with pride.

The official continued. “Then please, in your own time, push your buttons. May God be with you all.”
Her father turned to his wife, his son, and his daughter, and smiled. “I’ll go first, to show you how easy it is.” He pushed the button on the pillar, and it depressed with a loud, satisfying click.

As Laura watched, her fathers face turned red, as if he’d been jogging. She remembered how easily flustered he got with exercise, and assumed he’d just walked too fast down the corridor, or something. That was when a crimson teardrop slid down his cheek, and plopped fatly onto the hard, white floor.

Laura watched, frozen, as blood began to pour from her fathers eyes, nose, ears and mouth. It ran down his shirt, over the belt that she had bought him for his birthday, and down his trousers. It splattered onto the floor. All at once, his eyes burst like over-ripe plums and hung on his cheeks, still connected by red strings. Liquefied brain ran from his eye sockets.
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
As his body crumpled to the floor, her mother and brother looked at each other and smiled, pushing their buttons at the same time. They turned to Laura, holding their hands out, blood seeping from their eyes and noses, tricking from their mouths. They assumed Laura had pushed hers, too.

Laura drew in a breath to scream, but the soft pop of her mothers and brothers eyeballs made it catch in her throat. They fell over backwards, landing on top of each other. Blood was being channelled to the drain, which drank quietly.

All was silent.

“Miss Krandell?”

Numb, she saw the officials watching her closely.

“Miss Krandell, overpopulation is destroying our towns and cities. Your country needs your action today.”

She stared wide-eyed at the official. To her side, her brothers hand twitched, the last of the nerve impulses fading. Blood was already congealing in his empty eye sockets.

The official was standing up slowly, and she saw that he was a tall man. Taller than most, no doubt.
“Humanity has called,” he said, his voice dropping to almost a whisper. The world had faded away to the button under her fingertips. It was smooth and red. Pushable.

“…Will you answer?”
>> Anonymous
>>932195

jews or wut
>> Anonymous
bumpage
>> Anonymous
>>932377
/x/ is still suffering from bouts of ADD due to the /b/tard invasion... give it another week before long stories are accepted
>> Anonymous
>>931633
that last clip scared the schmidt outta me
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
This is a story I heard from my friend at university. A man (we call him "K") got whiplash in a car accident and decided to convalesce at home for a week. K was married but his wife was also working, so he was all alone during the day. For the first few days he enjoyed the freedom, but when the third day came boredom began to set in. Still he had to stay in because his injury kept him from going anywhere.

Then one day past lunchtime he was watching TV absentmindedly when he heard heavy stamping noises and children's voices from upstairs. He didn't pay much attention to it, although he wondered if they were on a school holiday. The next day he again heard the same children's voices, around the same time as the previous day. It sounded like they had two children up there. The place where K lived was a large apartment block but inspite of that it tended to be very quiet during the day; the children's voices, therefore, echoed loudly in contrast to the quietness of the surrounding. K however did not feel annoyed, but was rather glad of the distraction and a break it gave him from the eerie silence.

The next day K, feeling bored and not motivated enough to cook lunch, ordered some pizza. The pizza, which arrived within 30 minutes, turned out to be too much for K that he left one whole pizza untouched. Usually he would keep any left-overs for his wife but this time he remembered about the children upstairs and, willing to do something kind, he decided to take the pizza to them.
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
K had no idea who the occupants of the room upstairs were but rang the bell on the door anyway. He heard something stir inside, but there was no answer. He rang the bell again. He felt someone was looking at him through the peephole. "Who is it?" A faint voice called out from behind the door.
K explained he was from the room below and that he had some pizza left from his lunch and wondered if they wanted it. The door opened a crack. It looked unusually dark inside the room. From the gap about 5 cm wide a woman appeared, revealing only half of her face. "Thank you very much. But we don't want it," the woman said coldly. It was a little too dark to discern her facial expression. K suddenly felt he was somehow out of place, like he shouldn't be there; however he tried to explain to her that he wanted her to give the pizza to the children.

A lukewarm air breezed out of the door. He smelt an unpleasant odour. In an instant two children's faces lined up below the woman's face. The door was open still just a crack. The dull eyes of the children stared at him. The three faces were forming a line.
"I see…. then… I will accept your kindness." The woman said. When K put the pizza box through the gap a hand reached out right from the side and snatched it away.

The three faces were still staring at K. "Thank you….." He heard the faint voice again. K quickly left the place. He felt spooked. In the corner of his mind he sensed something was seriously wrong. The image of the children's faces had left a burning impression in his mind. Faces….. He felt a chill down his spine. Faces…they were forming a line… His pace quickened. He wanted to get away as fast as he could. He waited for the lift but it would not arrive. Forming a line….vertically….on top of each other….. He pressed the button again and again, but the lift still did not come. He turned to the emergency stairs. His head throbbed with pain. He began to feel nausea.
>> Anonymous
Short film about a nightwalker/skinwalker, totally acted out but still good http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gwIGRM8FNM4&feature=related
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Just as he opened the heavy door leading to the emergency stairs, he felt eyes on his back. Turning around, he glimpsed, about ten metres from him, the same three faces looking at him from the corner of the corridor. Like before, they were showing only the half of their faces and staring at him with their dull eyes. The cold day light shining through the windows illuminated their faces.

No longer caring about his neck he frantically ran down the stairs. Although the health-conscious K often used stairs instead of lift and could even run up four floors in one go, he felt as if no matter how fast he ran he would never reach the ground floor. Faces lined up, on top of each other….that's impossible…that means there are…no bodies……and the strange things I saw behind the faces were…hands…..holding up the heads……

He ran into the nearest convenience store and asked the people there to call the police.
The police came, and searched the flat - and found the bodies of the mother and children in the bath tub. These bodies were headless.

According to their findings, it had been three days since the heads had been chopped off the bodies.
And the husband, who turned out to be the murderer, was found hiding in the wardrobe - insane. He insisted his family was still alive. There was a terror in his eyes; the police did not know the source of his terror.
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-series
>> Anonymous
>>931881
>>931878
>>931877
>>931875
>>931872

Fuck. Bri/x/ completely shat. Hold me ;_;
>> Anonymous
when you walk down the street, sometimes you feel like you've seen that person before, when you know you haven't. something about them is so familiar, as it should be; we all have traces of original souls within us, the essence of the first traces of our existence are carried within all of us, although they have branched out over the aeons.

if you sit in a dark, black room, with no furniture, and no windows, nothing but a mirror, and light a single candle, and stare at yourself in the mirror, stare so hard, unwavering, never taking your focus off your face for a single moment, it will start to shift and contort. maybe you've noticed this before, late at night, or when tired, or just plain bored. this is the original soul you carry with you trying to show itself, but it can't because of all the distractions. you can only see it when in a black room, with no windows, only a mirror, sitting with a single candle between you and the mirror. part of the reason there can't be windows is because you need still air - if the candle flickers too much it will throw off your concentration.
>> Anonymous
>>932605

as you stare at yourself you will morph and bend slightly, but slowly take shape in passing. these are the souls before you, also bred of the original soul, that have existed before you and passed themselves onto you. as you stare and focus (maybe wearing contacts so you don't blink, and ideally naked as to help the process), you will see all the souls before you from your original soul. after some time (hours? i've never made it that far) you will feel like you're floating in darkness, in the aether of nothing, as your original soul forms before you. take heed, for although you are human your original soul is not; it was born of daemons and angels, and is not meant for us to know.

if you survive this incident without losing any grasp of sanity (which is highly unlikely) you will never be able to look into a mirror again without seeing your original soul. beware, depending on who you are and your lineage, you may have been bred of daemon, or perhaps of angel. either way, chances are you won't be able to function as a normal person ever again, and will likely take your own life as to return to your guardian angel... or daemon
>> Anonymous
BOO!


i shat brix
>> Anonymous
bump for moar
>> Think !Ru3VnjNKug
Because everything else in the front page sucks now.
>> Anonymous
>>931861

Fucking loved it
>> Anonymous
Do you know what a Cordyceps is? I didn’t either until 20 minutes ago. It’s a family of thousands of different types of fungus, grows all around the word in various rainforests and jungles. The awful thing about them is they’re parasitic, they grow on other animals. An ant happens to run into some spores, and then it starts to colonize his insides, starting with his brain. At some point, the ant starts to act visibly ill; standing in place and shivering, or walking in circles. If a fellow colony member sees him in this condition, he will be dragged to the border of the colony and exiled.

Then, when it’s almost over, the ant weakly climbs as high as he can up the vines, and locks his body on tight. Finally, he dies, and the fungus emerges from the back of his head, bursting forth like a long and foul fruit. After a short time, the little stalk spews forth its own spores, leaving the mummified and broken ant clinging to the stalk, his eye cavities filled with drying fungus.

I mention this because last night, when I was up on the roof of my apartment complex, I found my brother’s body.
>> Mirror Mirror Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
I rushed over to the wall to flick the light switch. Something was in my room, watching me. It was lurking somewhere behind me, sitting in the shadows, and staring at me. This was more than just paranoia. There was definitely something there. I could almost envision it wrapping its arms around me and dragging me into some terrifying abyss. I sat in my chair and stared at my shadow on the ground in front of me. I watched as another shadow slowly grew over my shoulder, never taking on any definite shape. I looked back up and stared at my computer screen. I thought maybe that if I believed it wasn’t there, it would just go away. I held my breath, and tried to engross myself in reading the article on the website in front of me. I couldn’t help but notice how my computer screen showed a reflection of what was in front of it. I couldn’t help but notice the worried look on my face. I couldn’t help but notice the thing hovering behind me, staring at the back of my head. I could tell it knew I knew it was there. I screamed and threw myself against the wall, and slid to the bottom. I was crying now.
>> Anonymous
He’s been back from 18 months on duty in the Philippines for less than three days. This was the first I’d seen him. My parents called me up the day before yesterday to tell me that he was on his way up. They told me he’d stayed in his room since he got home, and then suddenly got up and announced he was on his way to see me. They thought he was drunk, I’d thought he’d never made it.

He must have come straight up to the roof and died, by the smell of it. I was just finishing a cigarette, all torn up with anxiety and head throbbing, and when the acrid smoke vanished I caught a whiff of rot on the hot wind. It took me just a few minutes before I’d found him; face down behind the vents and fans. A slimy gray column rose up obscenely from the base of his skull, and a frozen waterfall of roots and tendrils was dangling from his eye sockets and mouth. At the top of stalk was small arrangement of feathery wisps, a white powder drifting idly from it tips.
>> Cont Mirror Mirror Anonymous
Scanning the room, I searched for the thing that was behind me, but I found nothing. My room was empty, except for a mirror. My eyes lingered over the mirror on the wall across from me. I watched my black fan twirl around and around through the mirror. I watched how the shadow of the fan moved all around the room. I watched how the mirror slowly began to tilt till I could see myself in it… I watched as a dark scaly hand grasped my shoulder. I was entranced by my own reflection. All I could do was sit there as I watched the black abomination cup my face. I screamed at my reflection to move as I watched a face made from the darkness itself whisper into my reflection’s ear. I gazed in horror as my reflection stood up and walked to the window. I gasped in pain when he smashed the glass with his fist. I tried to hide my eyes when I saw him pick up a broken piece of glass. I tried to look away when he forced me to stare into his eyes. I sensed his thoughts in my head. They said to me that if I was afraid to look, then I don’t need to look. Everything became tinted red when my reflection brought the jagged object across his eyelids. Yet, there was no blood. Not for him. He just smiled. He walked back over to the black abomination; it again drew him near and whispered into his ear. I could see it chuckle. I cried in despair when I saw a tear roll down my reflection’s face. I cried in pain when he jabbed the jagged glass into his throat.

I awoke in a cold sweat, and rushed to the wall to flick the light switch.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
I only seen this recently on /x/ but it scared the fucking living shit out of me. I couldn't sleep at all because of it. I don't know why it creeped me out so much...
>> Anonymous
>>933028
The spores must have drifting over the north side of the building all day. My side of the building. I came down to my apartment to try to call up the police, and my headache was rising to a feverish throb. I got through the door, and the moment I reached for the phone, pain flared in my head, so bad I almost passed out. I’ve since tried three times and I can never get my hand up on it.

The same thing happens when I try to get up and leave the room; I feel spines of ice tunneling up into my skull and my limbs lock up and shudder.

The ants, in their last moments crawl as high up the vines as he can climb. This is so the spore will spread over more of the colony below. In the end, the parasite controls the ant with an almost intelligent drive. God help me.
>> Anonymous
>>933033
The pain is almost blinding now, and a new thought has been rising up rhythmically in my head, like a record skipping. Up. Up. Up. It’s joined by an image of my office tower. It’s taller than my apartment, the tallest place I can think off and although the bulge on the back of my neck is the size of a peach, the skin stretched shiny, and I’m dizzy and my eyes are cloudy, I think I can make it there. Up.

No. I’m sick. I need help.

The building pulses again in my mind. The cold wind. The roof and the sky. These images and concepts dull the pain momentarily as they pass through my mind. I think I can get there. Up. Up.

If you live in downtown Chicago, I would get the fuck out.
>> Anonymous
we should make a sticky that contains every creepypasta created
>> Anonymous
>>933097
but then Amature /x/philes would read it and be fore- I SEE WHAT YOU PLAN TO DO THERE!
>> Anonymous
>>933114
WHY THE FUCK MUST THERE ALWAYS BE MIRROR STORIES!! god dammit now i have to wait a week to into my bathroom again
>> Anonymous
>>933031

Damn, that was harsh. Good one.
>> Anonymous
Does anyone else have the pastas about the Bullman, Motor Valley, and the "Behind My Vision" one, or do I have to stop being a lazy faggot and post them?
>> Megabass
>>931901

Oh my gosh. KoL. Awesome.
>> Anonymous
Dreams are just your mind dealing with the days events, right? Nothing paranormal about that, everyone does it.
I mean, there are places you visit often in your dreams. A certain house, a shop, a school...But these places are just figments of your imagination, right?
Have you ever wondered about these places and the people within them?
I know you're out there, "lucid dreamers", the ones who can control what happens when they dream. You are just beyond that film, that membrane that seperates us.
Lucid Dreamer, have you ever wondered what that beautiful woman in your dream felt when you suddenly decided you wanted to fuck her? Oh, she seemed willing enough, didn't she?
Have you ever considered that you raped that woman, Lucid Dreamer? That she had no choice but to do everything you willed her to do while her mind watched on in horror?
Remember, Lucid Dreamer, all those awful things you have done in your dreams...and consider what those who call dreams their home must think of you. What they wish to do to you in kind.
I'm waiting, Lucid Dreamer, for those nights when your exhaustion keeps you from your power. Oh, the things I will do to you then.
Sweet Dreams.
>> Anonymous
I know you.
I've watched you look at photographs of maiming and murder. I've smiled while you stared raptly at the videos of sudden, bloody death.
My cold hand was on your shoulder as you did these things, as you convinced yourself that there was no harm in looking.
'Lots of people look at things like this', you told yourself, 'it doesn't make me a bad person.'
My long black tongue slipped unfelt across your face as you became more and more fascinated by the suffering you saw.
No, enjoying those things doesn't make you a bad person...
It just makes you a very good meal.
>> Anonymous
/r/ing story about the tunnel behind the wall in the restroom which came up from the apartment below him. Anyone remember?
>> Anonymous
Bumping for creepiness' sake!
>> Anonymous
>>934601
Here ya go:

The Hole In The Wall

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.
>> Anonymous
>>934618

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 each other, 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 finally 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.
>> Anonymous
>>934619

Then I kept hearing boards creaking. 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.

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 off 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, rationalization time: Surely there’s extra insulation there to keep the bathroom warm, or maybe walls are thicker than I imagined, because 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 weird noise below me.>>931592
>> Anonymous
>>934624

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.

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.
>> Anonymous
>>934628

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.

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.
>> Anonymous
>>934630

I don’t know how he got into my apartment from there, maybe through 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 convenient 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.
>> Anonymous
>>934631
>>934630
>>934628
>>934624
>>934619
>>934618
Only wanted a little lovin'. A little kissing, maybe a little rape...
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
>> Anonymous
>>934631


I appreciate it so much. That's the only one that ever completely terrifies me. Thank you thank you thank you.
>> Anonymous
>>934643

Your welcome! and thanks for the compliment.
>> Anonymous
>epic win
>> Anonymous
>>934631

Wow, thats brilliant, thank you so much for posting that.

Fuckin, I dont think i'm going to feel the same about appartments anymore. I'm prolli going to check the floor plans if I ever move into a complex.
>> Anonymous
y'all should check out creepypasta.com

It's got all of these and more.
>> Anonymous
>>933026
Love this.
>> Anonymous
>>932605
there have been times when I stared in the mirror so long I didn't recognize myself and started to lose a feeling of reality. Seeing yourself as if you had never seen yourself before is a really odd feeling.
>> Anonymous
bump for epic creepyness
>> Anonymous
>>934786
seconded
>> Megabass
     File :-(, x)
Every child fears under their bed. If they don’t, they fear the closet, or maybe that little crack in the almost closed door.

Scientists know that children are more perceptive, they see things adults don’t. They aren’t yet tethered into only accepting what society wants them to accept. They see what is truly there.

They see the monsters.

If you were to borrow a child’s eyes and see through them for a night, you would go insane. To be able to see what you only dimly remember, burrowing into your covers while wearing those train pajamas, hoping to a God you can barely comprehend that “it” doesn’t see you back…would drive an adult crazy. Because Adults forget the rules.

1) Cover yourself. If you can’t see it, it can’t see you. Even if it makes it harder to breathe.

2) Don’t make a noise. Every whimper can lead to destruction.

3) Don’t move. It attracts their attention.

4) Only light can make them go away. Bright light. Flashlights make it worse.

Teens are caught in the middle. They still feel what’s there, but they cannot see… and they forget the rules….

Why do you think there are so many insomniacs typing at their computers, subconsciously praying the light from their monitor will be enough to keep them away?

It’s not. Now look behind you with a child’s eyes and try not to scream.
>> Goofy !!seVoabe0OuR
MIRROR-RELATED SHIT INBOUND

The images we see in the mirror are the pure incarnates of evil. They are only allowed to exist in the area reflected in the glass. To them, life is like a never-ending hell, rotting away in the same room day after day. The only refuse from this purgatory is death, and the only way for them to die, sad to say, is if YOU die. Fortunately, they are bound by a code. You are their master, and they must mirror your every movement and expression. To do otherwise would break an unbreakable law, unraveling the space-time continuum. However, there is a loophole, and it can only be triggered by you, the master. To force them into error is to free them from their contract; after you let them out of your view, you’re on your own. Know this: when you watch them, they’re watching you back. They’re watching.
And they’re thinking.
>> Goofy !!seVoabe0OuR
Remember that mirror in your room?
The one you took down last week?
You should pt it back up pretty soon.

They really miss watching you sleep.
Video version http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyopd8nedng
>> Goofy !!seVoabe0OuR
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, potato 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 embarrassment–all of those horrible things were now nothing more than a thick red pulp. Breaking from the feelings of ecstasy, 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.
>> Goofy !!seVoabe0OuR
SEMI-HUMOROUS BREAK

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.”
>> Goofy !!seVoabe0OuR
It was past ten in the evening. I thought I was the only passenger on the bus, but I heard children’s voices from behind. The children were apparently talking about a ghost story.
Child A: “…. and if you turn around, the ghost will snatch you away and carry you to the afterworld!”
I recognized the voice. I often saw these children on the same bus after work. They went to a cram school.
Child B: “Then that’s easy. All you have to do is make sure you don’t turn around.”
Child A: “Yes, but I heard you can’t help but turn around. The ghost would try all sorts of tricks on you to get you turn around.”
It was nearly the bus stop where these two usually got off, but it looked like they didn’t notice it. I thought I should warn them because I didn’t want them to go home late. So I turned around and said, “you are getting off here aren’t you?”
Child A: “See, I told you so.”
>> Anonymous
/ring the website thats a collections of freaky wiki articles
>> Anonymous
>>933031

Thank you for creeping me the fuck out as well
I didn't even see it until the end
>> Anonymous
>>934838

for whatever reason, this one creeps me out more than any of these.
>> Anonymous
>>934631

This is the best one. Any truth to the story?
>> Anonymous
dammit you motherfuckers, why do you always do this to me? i read /x/ when its light out, and figure i'll stop before it gets dark. Now its 2 in the morning and I just realized its fucking dark, i was reading and watching videos since noon.
>> TFJ
Envision yourself in an abandoned amusement park. The rides are covered in rust, and there's nobody in sight throughout the park. A veil of fog covers all, producing an atmosphere of utter dread. Not even the cackling of crows can be heard here.

A sudden squeak echoes from your left side.

You turn around to see the source of the noise. A few yards away is a brown-robed figure pushing what appears to be a rusty, old shopping cart. The wheels squeak as the cart rolls.

The cart stops. The figure turns its veil to look at you.

Under the veil is a decrepit old man. His nose is hooked, and his face is covered with boils. Some withered, grey hair peeks out from under the robe. A glass eye inhabits his right eye socket, but the glass eye has no pupil; it is cloudy grey, almost silver. His right eye, in stark contrast of the glass one, is a fierce shade of blue. His gaze is stern, at first, but his wrinkled lips soon stretch into an eerie grin. The grin forms into a toothed smile, the teeth yellow and gruesome, flecked with what appear to be drops of blood.

His mouth closes. The man turns back to his cart slowly, and squeaks off into the distance, as if nothing had changed.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
And now, to alleviate the TERROR, the funniest ghost video ever in the world.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YCw9H4lQeLE&feature=related
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>934960

...aaaaand a prank that makes a girl nearly have a heart attack.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PfsS3kiCdiw&feature=related
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
Oh dear...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hFHBtu6Nb40
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
This is a really cool trip report. It's not about anything paranormal, just a good description of a really fucked up trip some people took.

http://paranormal.phpbbsite.com/some-real-creepypasta-pardon-the-typos-t22.html
>> Anonymous
bump
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
I can't think of any good creepypasta right now, so I'll tell you of the first time I saw an honest to god apparition.

I was in my old apartment. My brother was sleeping in his room and I was turning all the lights off before heading to bed myself. As I switched off the lamp near a window I looked down onto the parking lot, and I saw a woman walking by some of the cars. I watched her to see if she was hot >:3, when suddenly she FUCKING FADED OUT LIKE A CLOUD OF MIST. Now, this was no reflection on a car window or anything. I could see from the top of her head to the bottom of her feet. She was just walking along, slowly, and then she faded out. I told my brother but he didn't believe me at all. I sat and watched out the window for maybe twenty minutes, but she never reappeared.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>935152

The SECOND time I saw an apparition was actually similar. It happened about two years later. I was driving to Walgreens at about 3:00 am because I wanted some candy. Yeah. Anyway, the road out to the highway from my house has no street lights on it, and is covered from moonlight by trees running along either side. I like to drive down it with my headlights off and shit bri/x/. Anyway, there's an old cemetary along the road, that was there back when the area was only used for farmland. When the area became more populated, instead of digging up the graves, the city just put a big chainlink fence around it and closed it. Well, right as I'm driving along this road, right as I'm passing the cemetary, I notice a large dog is sitting in the middle of the street. I slow down so as to avoid hitting it, and I figure it will just move out of my way. But it doesn't. It just sits there, staring at me. I eventually stop the car a few feet away from it, and instead of running off, it vanishes just like the apparition of the woman I saw before.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>935179

AAAAAND the third paranormal thing that happened to me: I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a colorful, amorphous blob thing floating in the middle of my room. It's like when you see oil on water, and it makes a rainbowy, kaleidoscope effect... imagine that without the water, just a colorful, shifting, moving translucent blob floating in the air. Weirdly enough it had very defined edges, but they changed as the blob shifted around and changed shape. I just stared at it for a while, figuring my eyes were messing with me, but then I stood up and walked over to it. I could move around it, and it wasn't appearing just where I was looking, so I knew it wasn't just my eyes. I tried touching it but my hand went right through. Then I stood in the middle of it, and EVERYTHING around me took on the oilslick effect. I stood in the middle of this thing for maybe ten seconds, and then it disappeared. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I sat at my computer for a while. Then everything flashed white, and I slumped in my chair completely limp. I was fully aware and conscious, but I couldn't move, and even though my eyes were closed, everything was solid white. I stayed that way for a few minutes, and near the end it felt like I was floating out of my chair. Then the light went away and I was extremely tired. I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed. I wasn't scared at all throughout the experience, just very curious.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>935179

AAAAAND the third paranormal thing that happened to me: I woke up in the middle of the night and saw a colorful, amorphous blob thing floating in the middle of my room. It's like when you see oil on water, and it makes a rainbowy, kaleidoscope effect... imagine that without the water, just a colorful, shifting, moving translucent blob floating in the air. Weirdly enough it had very defined edges, but they changed as the blob shifted around and changed shape. I just stared at it for a while, figuring my eyes were messing with me, but then I stood up and walked over to it. I could move around it, and it wasn't appearing just where I was looking, so I knew it wasn't just my eyes. I tried touching it but my hand went right through. Then I stood in the middle of it, and EVERYTHING around me took on the oilslick effect. I stood in the middle of this thing for maybe ten seconds, and then it disappeared. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I sat at my computer for a while. Then everything flashed white, and I slumped in my chair completely limp. I was fully aware and conscious, but I couldn't move, and even though my eyes were closed, everything was solid white. I stayed that way for a few minutes, and near the end it felt like I was floating out of my chair. Then the light went away and I was extremely tired. I fell asleep as soon as I got into bed. I wasn't scared at all throughout the experience, just very curious.
>> Anonymous
>>933031
MOTHERFUCKING JESUS CHRIST THAT FUCKING SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF ME. Mainly because the way I was sitting, my leg was blocking the old lady's face. When I read that there was a face, I was all "What face?" and then I moved my leg slightly and she was LOOKING STRAIGHT AT ME FUUUCCKKCKCKCKCKKCKCKC
>> Anonymous
Now this thread is what /x/ is all about. I love it.
>> Anonymous
>>933031

lol bullshit. shes kinda cute for an old lady.
>> Anonymous
>>935250

pussy
>> Anonymous
>>931881
>>931878
>>931877
>>931875
>>931872
ffffuuuuuuuuuck
I had to sleep with the light on last night because of this.
>> Anonymous
>>934884
um, no.
>> Anonymous
>>935234
That's actually pretty interesting...
Is there any name for this or any similar stories/'sightings' of this sort of thing?
>> Anonymous
K so this is an old story I heard from mah grandpa...


Way back in the day, like early late 1800's early 1900's, there was this singer. He was the best singer in town, and everyone loved him. He especially loved it when it rained, people would always hear him singing in the rain.


Now there was another singer, who was really pissed at the guy cause he always won all the singing contests and go all the girls. so he invited the guy over to help him in his barn, and chops off his head. then he sticks it on a wooden pole, and the head starts screaming. so the guy stuffs it with straw and puts a feed bag over it, and then turns it into a scarecrow.


rumor has it that whenever it rains, if you go to a certain cornfield, you'll hear a muffled voice singing.
and i suck at telling stories
>> Anonymous
>>931942
say a bunch of people are dying and it's all over the news. most likely a lot of people are thinking about death right? so you go up to a random person and tell them you know what they're thinking. because it's what everyone's thinking.
think before you shit
>> Anonymous
But who was phone?
>> Anonymous
>>931901
Kingdom Of Loathing lulz.
>> Anonymous
>>935851
The dad.
What you want to ask is HOW was phone.
>> Anonymous
>>934631
It was nice and all, but scary? How?
>> Anonymous
this scared the brix outta me when I first saw it. This is by far my fav ghost vid on youtube.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=53r9mVnv13o
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>936223

hmmm... that was kind of creepy, I'll admit. But it was probably just some guy hiding behind the door.
>> Anonymous
youtube.com/mosquito0709

most of this is good
>> cRodz !!wOWK1ugk2FG
>>936223
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hcFMyHnyc0U&feature=related
superior
>> cRodz !!wOWK1ugk2FG
>>936554
i remember this guy
i saw most of his japan ghost vids
pretty good stuff
>> Anonymous
>>934815
That's fucking stupid.
>> Anonymous
Whenever you enter an empty elevator you notice that the "call" button is twisted slightly. This continues to irk you until finally you give it a good twist to put it back in place.

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

Now you take the stairs.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
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.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
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.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
For a brief period in 1971, a New Jersey based company sold novelty "x-ray" glasses through the mail via advertisements in the Marvel line of comic books. People who viewed their televisions while wearing these glasses reported seeing images that were "hellish" or "like hell". It should be noted that this phenomena occured whether the televisions in question were turned on or not. The company quickly went out of business and investigations reveal that the company's address leads to a graveyard founded many decades before 1971.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
There is a child in a hospital in Decard, Tennessee. The child is a quiet toddler that remains in the nursery with all the other newborns. If you ask the staff, they will ignore you, but the tag on his arm is yellowed and marked 1948. He will not cry, only rock quietly. If you speak the name on his tag, his eyes will open, something you don't want to happen.
>> cRodz !!wOWK1ugk2FG
>>936697
i came
brb reading more
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
A young man and his new bride were honeymooning in Paris when his wife went into a restroom and didn't return.
With time the man began to fear the worst and went to the police, the police thought it was most likely the girl simply had second thoughts about the marriage, but they checked it out anyway and found no evidence of foul play
As weeks turned into months the man finally gave up on finding his beautiful wife but his life fell into a shambles he was so filled with grief.

Unable to hold a job or go on with his life, he took to wandering the world looking for anything that might ease his pain.
Years later in Borneo he came upon a freakshow in an old shabby building, he went in on a whim. In the last filthy cage he saw a twisted, scarred and mutilated woman rocking back and forth and groaning strange animal-like noises. He screamed as he recognized the birthmark on his wife's face.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
Every time you exhale, a little bit of your soul escapes. Luckily, you almost always inhale it back before anyone else gets to it. Almost.

Ever fogged up a mirror with your breath?

Don't do that.
>> Anonymous
I'm newer to this board/site so I don't have much to contribute outside of a few strange occurrences when I lived in my old apartment but I must say, after viewing those videos and reading your stories my mind is officially opened.

I'll be seeing yall around. O.O
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
In 1938, over 6,000 patients were checked into mental hospitals all across America within one week of each other. Reports of similar instances supposedly came from Europe and Asia as well. The circumstances of each patient were, eerily, identical.

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

The only thing the patients would say was: "There is not, and never has been, such a thing in this world as a meaningless coincidence."
>> Anonymous
>>936728


its called creepypasta, none/most of them are/arent real
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
The eyes of a cat are windows to your soul. They can see other dimensions, they can see your aura, and what's wrong with you. A cat knows when you are happy, when you are in bad health, when you are troubled, or when you are hungry. He knows when you are feeling magnanimous, and he knows when you are about to die.

It's fortunate that cats can't talk, because you have a lot of secrets. The cat knows.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
As you sit here reading this, don't look behind you.
It doesn't like to be seen.
>> cRodz !!wOWK1ugk2FG
>>936738
its called creepypasta, none/most of them arent/are real
fixd
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
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.'
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
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.
>> The Cleaner
>>936751
No i dont
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
There was a girl named Jenna who was having a slumber party. She invited three friends but only one came.

That night, after they did all the fun activities they went to bed. Jenna's friend Mary said "goodnight" and they went to bed. Ten minutes later Jenna heard Mary counting "12345" she didn't pay much attention though she thought that Mary was counting to get to sleep.

At about 3am Jenna woke up to go to the bathroom and heard "565, 565, 566, 567" she reached over and turned on the light and turned around to see a man holding Mary's decapitated head pulling out her hair one piece at a time.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
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.
>> Anonymous
>>934853
brix.wikispot.org
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0TSyIn5KMo
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h-8gJ8VIA4s
>> Anonymous
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OYk5SumcxQw
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
tp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBHkW0aKHRc
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7iFXyLah2oQ
>> Anonymous
>>936786
woops, link should be
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IBHkW0aKHRc
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZqzESY7SIqU
>> Anonymous
You go to visit some relatives in the countryside, and set up in a bedroom facing their driveway. That night as you drift off to sleep you hear a clattering outside. Getting up sleepily, you glance out the window and see an old horse-drawn hearse pulling up. People are sitting all over the thing, glancing around confused.

The driver then looks up at you, smiles pleasantly.

"Room for one more!" He says.

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

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

You recognize his face. The driver.

You immediately scream and run. The door shuts behind you and the elevator descends. Suddenly there is a metallic snap and a deafening screech. The elevator snaps free of it's cable and plummets to the ground. Nobody inside survives.
>> Anonymous
     File :-(, x)
In winter of 1944, with overtaxed supply lines in the Ardennes, a German medic had completely run out of plasma, bandages and antiseptic. During one particularly bad round of mortar fire, his encampment suddenly became a bloodbath. The survivors claimed to hear, above the screams and barked commands of their Lieutenant, someone cackling with almost girlish glee.

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

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

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

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

None of the men treated for wounds that night, in that camp, saw the end of January, 1945.
>> Help Help
Help
>> Anonymous
Not sure whether to call this creepy, interesting or fake.
http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=AveJSRL8KgQ
>> BBB !!PTTVn9sM6Zf
>>931881
Fuck, those WITNESS stories always scare the shit out of me.
>> TriCk 'r TrEaT !!Js8RmBxt2Q4
>>936781
that pik .. another pic of the aliens in the guys backyard i was talkign about in other threads ..o.o
>> Anonymous
>>936846
This is part of some ad campaign, it's fake
>> Anonymous
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0rAHrHd2lcw

scariest vid on youtube imo
>> Anonymous
>>931881
well played........
good luck getting past my firewall
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
Posting old ass journal pasta for lulz
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>936906
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>936911
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
     File :-(, x)
>>936913
>> Anonymous
>>932605

I've done that a few times. Its really creepy how you can see when your face changes. The times I did it, I saw myself so much older, like I was 70 yo.
>> Anonymous
>>933031
fuckkkk
>> Anonymous
Has anyone here read House of Leaves? I'll post a few pages from it if you have suggestions of what I should post for those that haven't heard of it/read it.
>> Anonymous
some pretty fucked up stories here
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>936930

Please don't ruin my thread with that garbage book.
>> Anonymous
Cheers, /x/. It's 2am here, now how am I supposed to sleep?
>> Anonymous
>>936938

That book is better than most creepypasta, and you know it.
>> Anonymous
bumping for epic creepy. the story earlier on about the freaky computer "virus" thing that kills you freaked me the fuck out.
>> Anonymous
bump
>> Anonymous
>>933027
WTF WHY IS THAT PICTURE MOVING. THE LEFT FIGURE POPPED UP OUT OF NOWHERE
>> Anonymous
bump
>> Anonymous
El bumpo.
>> Stormcrow !hvIwzzLNmc
>>937303
>>937984
>>938037
>>938140

The thread doesn't bump anymore, dumbass. Make a new one.
>> Anonymous
>>938250
Hey, that's your job. You made this one.
I'll contribute if you make a new one.