For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…

July 25, 2014
by derpbutt

The Memory Lives On

Daniel lay in his bed staring at the ceiling. His sweat drenched blankets were cast aside, a horrid reminder of his condition. As he gazed at the ceiling, he imagined the bumpy surface to be that of another planet. He wished he could be whisked away to that magical sphere and be rid of his troubles once and for all. Anywhere but this planet would be acceptable, he thought, if only he could find some way to get there, wherever ‘there’ was. His thoughts drifted to what his reception would be like upon meeting an extraterrestrial civilization. Would he be received with welcome as another fellow sentient being or would he be received with apprehensive curiosity? Would their civilization be more primitive than Earth’s or more advanced? What would their culture be like? Would it be similar to ours or radically different? What would the natives look like? Should he ever meet another race, he would attempt to answer all of those questions and maybe send a report back to Earth–maybe.

His thoughts then took a dark turn. But what if they received him with violent hostility? He would be alone in strange world without chance of salvation. He would be hunted down like an animal regardless of his natural equality and no matter how good his survival skills were, he would be captured, he would be tortured, and—no, he couldn’t think this way. The doctor said to think only positively, never negatively. His mental and emotional stability depended upon it.

He turned his head over to the nightstand on the right side of his bed and looked at the glowing numbers. The digital clock read 2:34 a.m. He moaned and pulled his blankets back over himself. He knew he needed to rest, but his eyes kept wandering back to the ceiling, and each time they did he’d think of it as the surface of a foreign planet, keeping him awake a few minutes longer, slowly wasting the night. This went on for a little more than ten minutes, until a small noise caught his ear, snapping him out the dreamlike trance.

He thought he had heard the front door of his apartment open and then shut with its signature creak, but the sound had been so subtle that even the low hum of an air conditioner would have rendered it inaudible. Daniel sat up and listened closely for some time, but his straining ears were met only with silence. He began to doubt if he had even heard a noise at all and lay back down. But just as he was slipping back into a half sleep a clear; undeniable footstep seemed to echo through the room. A shot of adrenaline rushed through his veins and he sat bolt upright. Someone was in his apartment.

Daniel slid out of bed as quietly as he could and grabbed the nine-millimeter handgun he kept on his nightstand. He looked at his door determined to shoot the first person to step into his room. Adrenaline was pumping through his veins rather profusely and the tension he felt in the air was nigh unbearable. His heart was pounding. He hadn’t felt this way since…well Afghanistan.

The heavy footsteps approached his door slowly; one after the other as if the intruder was weak or seriously injured. Daniel watched the door knob turn slowly. He prepared to fire. The door suddenly flew open and—he could not see past the darkness. The moonlight streaming in from his room’s one window allowed him to see dimly, but the rest of the apartment was bathed in blackness. Everything was silent. Daniel began to lose his nerve. He backed up a step and adjusted his aim, finger on the trigger. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow. He stared intently into the rectangular shaped hole formed by the doorway, but couldn’t see or make out if anyone was actually standing there watching him slowly fall apart. The black hole now seemed to be the enemy, boring into the depths of his soul, searching through his darkest secrets.

“Come out!” He shouted. “Stand where I can see you!”

He sensed slight movement and then he made out an advancing form. The form took two painful steps into the room and froze. It took Daniel less than a second to recognize what had entered his sanctuary and a wave of horror swept over him. He dropped the gun and stumbled backwards into a wall. The trespasser was a man, a soldier dressed in full combat gear, but its face was shrouded by the shadow of his helmet.

“What do you want?” Daniel asked weakly. The figure remained silent in its statue like pose. “Say something!”

“Where was the air support Lieutenant?” The figure rasped painfully. “Where was it?”

Daniel began to panic. “I don’t know! I don’t know what the hell you are talking about! Leave me alone!”

“Where was the air support Lieutenant? Why weren’t we covered?” The figure asked again with its hypnotic voice.

“God, I don’t know. I don’t know!” Voices from all directions began shouting at him. Contact front! Contact nine o’clock! Sir we’re surrounded! Sir, second squad is pinned down! Sir the radio’s being jammed! Sir we’re taking heavy losses! Sir what do we do now?

“We’re all dead Lieutenant.” The figure said and took a step forward. “We’re all dead now.”

The sounds of automatic weapons and exploding mortars filled the room, drowning out everything except the voice of the advancing man. Daniel clapped his hands over his ears and slid crying to the floor. Memories of brutal fighting filled his mind. Bodies. KIA reports. Ninety-percent casualties. Ambush.

“No, no, no, no, no!” He screamed.

The man took one final step and the shafts of moonlight revealed his face: the face of a young man, marred by third degree burns and a gaping head wound that bled rapidly onto his shoulder and upper chest. He gazed at Daniel with dazed and confused eyes and said again: “We’re all dead Lieutenant. Why?”

Daniel mouthed the words ‘I don’t know’ as tears streamed from his eyes. He collapsed, and everything faded to black.

Credit To – Karl M.

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July 25, 2014
by derpbutt


It is time for bed again, and I think tonight I will attempt astral projection. The sensation of my body falling asleep and my mind wandering the astral world calms my nerves and gives me a satisfying sense of accomplishment and meaning.
I had to move back in with my parents because I lost my nerve at work and got canned, and ever since then, I have felt lost and in need of something more than ordinary life. Almost every night, I close my eyes, allow my body to sleep, but I keep my mind awake. I get the vibrating sensation which tells me that my astral body is about to separate and enter the astral plane. My out-of-body experiences are a ritual. When I enter the astral world I wander around my house, observing the surreal nature of it. It looks so different when I astral project, almost like space. Then I float up into the sky and wander the world, going any which way. This ritual is what I look forward to most in my life. Not finding another job, not trying to move out of my parents’ house, because none of this seems to matter anymore. I kind of just want to… live in the astral world. It sounds crazy, I know, but it is the only thing that matters to me anymore. I have control there. I just came upstairs to go to bed after arguing with my parents. They tell me I need to find a job and get out of the house, and like always I tell them I will soon. Yet all I can think about is separating from my body, allowing my astral body to roam free and leave the meat on the bed. I feel the vibrations, and in seconds, I open my third eye, the eye which sees all. At first, I thought I just fell asleep and this was all just a dream. Everything seems different. The beautiful open space has turned into something dark and sinister. But then, I realize that this is not a dream. I am astral projecting like always. I turn around and look down at my body, still sleeping on the bed. Why do I feel so disturbed? I leave my room and walk around my house like I usually do. The ritual seems the same as it always does, but I feel like I have lost control. Fear is gripping me and all I want to do is wake up. I walk back to my bedroom and my heart drops. I feel sick inside and I wish I had a mouth to scream. My bed is empty. The blankets thrown off like somebody left in a hurry. I hear talking in the kitchen; it sounds like my parents. I fade through the walls as quickly as possible to the kitchen to see what is going on and I see my parents talking to someone. They are blocking my view of the stranger, so I move a little closer to see who it is. There it is, my slab of meat talking as if it were me. It told my parents, “Sorry Mom and Dad, I know I have been out of control lately but it is time for a change”. It turned its head right at me. Looking straight into my astral soul like it knew I was there. He gave me a crooked smile and said “I am in control”.

Credit To – Jack M

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July 25, 2014
by derpbutt

Night Time

Everyone has some kind of fear of the dark and the absence of light. This fear is totally arbitrary. When the lights come on, and the sun comes out, time doesn’t stop moving, and changing. Whatever is in the shadows or in the darkness can still be there. No matter whether you see it, or totally ignore it, it will still be there. They know if you ignore them, because they can smell the fear. I know that the cliche statement of ‘they can smell you’ is very… usual. But I assure you: these cliche remarks do not exclude reality. They are real. They can see you. You should leave. Leave as soon as you see the signs. You may ask what these signs are, but I will leave it to you to find that out.

So, regarding the ‘absence of light’ statement, do not be an idiot. I mean this from the heart. If there is a noise, do not look. No matter how hard your instincts pull you towards the site of the noise, try to convince yourself to check your email, or to watch a new youtube video. Do not investigate. Do not give in. People will run, or turn on the television to rid the silence of general night time. Although, time will not stop moving because of the backlight on your eyelids as you struggle to sleep on your couch, only because the shadows in your own room have psyched you out. Such attempts to move the negatives out of your life will not work.

They watch you. Not particularly observing you, but more in their peripheral vision. As you do them. They make small movements in the shadows, expecting a reaction. The bigger the reaction, the faster they consume you. They can see the ignorance in humans, and the symptoms of a distorted mind. They can see the corrupted side in children, and the paranoia in adults. They can tell if you are aware of their presence. They keep their distance, unless you acknowledge them. The second they see your eye twitch with anticipation, or your sigh of relief when you stop hearing the noise, only to hear it louder, and LOUDER, and LOUDER until you can’t bear to wait any longer. You swing your door open to investigate, only to see nothingness in the dark, dimly lit by the T.V. that you could have sworn that you turned off. You may run as fast as you can away from this place. But we will find you. Your paranoia might be escalating, but you should stop that. We can smell fear. Of course, after reading this, I doubt that you will see us on the ceiling, even after you have fallen asleep… if you can fall asleep, that is.

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July 18, 2014
by derpbutt

The Time Eater

I woke up. I put my shoes on and headed out the door. My friends and I had planned to meet in the woods to hang out. I had no clue what was in store for me that day. I was 15 and stupid and our plan was to light of fireworks in the woods for no reason. So I headed into the woods and met up with our friends. “We need to go in deeper, people might call the cops thinking they’re gunshots.” Said Jacob the leader of our group. I personally thought he was overreacting but I went along with it anyways. We wandered aimlessly around the woods looking for a place to set the fireworks off. Suddenly we were stopped by a strange rustling coming from a thicker part of the woods. “Maybe it’s slenderman coming to kill us!” Said Josh. He was obsessed with internet horror stories and constantly read them. “Keep quiet you’re scaring Lucas.” I said. Lucas was a wimp and constantly freaked out at little things. “Shut up Jace we all know you’re a bed wetter!” Snapped Lucas. Suddenly a huge fight broke out until there was another rustle coming out from the woods. “Is someone going to investigate that?” Asked Lucas. “Shut up it’s probably just a squirrel.” Said Jacob as he started setting up the fireworks. “Well I’m going to investigate.” Said Lucas as he walked into a thick patch of trees and vanished. “Wow looks like Lucas is finally learning to grow a pair.” I said. “Alright all set up!” Said Jacob proudly standing over his fireworks. “Now all we gotta do is wait for Lucas to get back.” He said. We sat and waited for what felt like an hour. “That’s it I’m done waiting!” Shouted Jacob. “Hey we should go check and make sure he’s alright.” Said Josh. “Fine I get out there pipsqueak.” Said Jacob. “Oh no I ain’t going out there!” Said Josh. “I’ll go.” I said fed up with their wimpyness. I headed out toward where he had gone to search for him.

I wandered the woods for what seemed like miles until I came across what looked like a person. “Lucas get over here we’re all waiting for you!” I shouted. He stood there unmoving. “Lucas?” I shouted again. Suddenly the figure turned his head and I could tell it was not human. He had a pail white face and a smile that went ear to ear, quite literally may I add. He wore a tattered suit with holes in it revealing glowing balls of, something. The figure reached into his breast pocket to reveal a pocket watch. He hit a button on the watch and it opened. There was a flash of light and everything went black.

I woke up. I put my shoes on and headed out the door. My friends and I had planned to meet in the woods to hang out. I had no clue what was in store for me that day. I was 16 and stupid and our plan was to light of fireworks in the woods for no reason. So I headed into the woods and met up with our friends. We went in further until we heard a rustling coming from our right. I had a strange feeling of deja vu but shrugged it off. Lucas went into the woods to investigate and he didn’t come back. I went in after him to check on him when I saw a strange figure. He took out a pocket watch and there was a flash of light and I quickly remembered everything.

I woke up. My friends and I had planned to meet in the woods to hang out. I had no clue what was in store for me that day. I was 18 and stupid and our plan was to light of fireworks in the woods for no reason. I looked into the mirror and was surprised by what I saw. Had I grown overnight? I looked a lot more mature than I did the night before. I shrugged it off and left to go out into the woods. We kept walking out until there was a rustling from our right. Suddenly everything came back to me. I remembered the day before, if that even was when it happened. I was completely zoned out until I heard Lucas shout, “Well I’m going to investigate.” I shoved him to the side and ran off into the woods. I needed answers now. I dashed off into the woods not stopping until I saw the figure again. He pulled out his pocket watch and there was a flash of light.

I woke up. Was it all a dream? I looked into the mirror to find that I looked around the age of 21! I was furious that I had fallen for the trap again but I needed to find a way to avoid it. I repeated the same process as I had the day before and found myself thrown back in my bed again. I looked fairly similar to before with the exception of a few gray hairs. I assume this is due to the fact that I was already fully grown. I repeated the process as the day before except this time I had a plan. I came across the figure again and just as he pulled out his pocket watch I closed my eyes. To my surprise the plan worked. “What do you want?” I asked the figure. Suddenly the place became darker and I heard a grotesque figure tell me, “You can open your eyes now.” I opened them knowing that I could always try again if he was lying. Luckily he was not. He looked at me. “I feed off of youthfulness, off of the energy of others.” He told me. “Each day you repeat I drain more energy out of you giving the illusion of aging.” I was baffled by this. “Is there any way to get it back?” I asked. “Yes there is, but that would be my death.” He answered. He pointed toward the rips and tears in his suit. “This glowing stuff, that’s the energy I store, this is you.” He said. “Ever wonder why you barely have no childhood memories? I’ve been doing this since you were 6 which in real time would’ve only been about a month ago.” He told me. I was stunned and didn’t know what to think of this situation. I reacted on impulse and lunged at him with my pocket knife. He dodged it, grabbed me, and flashed the pocket watch in my face.

I was about 30 now. I left to go repeat the day only to find he was gone. I was so happy to have escaped this torment and I went on with my day. I am now writing this for the world to see. I’ve encountered him a few more times since then and I haven’t a clue how I was able to remember him. Maybe he granted me the privilege just to toy with me but I don’t know. Well anyways this is it. I am now somewhere in my 50s. I have noticed that every time he gets me his power intensifies. One more encounter and I’m sure I’ll be dead. I’m looking out my window as we speak and he’s there waiting for me. I guess this is goodbye….

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July 18, 2014
by derpbutt

You Did This

I hate camping and I always will. It’s not the hiking, the nature, or the campfire. It’s the idea that I have to sleep in a confined space in the middle of the woods, with 3 or 4 people I barely know. But it wasn’t always this way. I used to be excited by the idea of camping, until I went on my first camping trip. I was 12 at the time. My parents sent me to this overnight summer camp for boys, secluded in the North Carolinian mountains, for 2 weeks. I was really homesick, but still enjoyed the experienced. And then, we went on a campout. Our group hiked about 3 miles to this sort of wooden cabin, if you could even call it that. It had 3 walls, one of which was missing, exposing us to the endless forest. God, was it terrible. A massive storm system moved through, it poured rain most of the time, and lightning stuck trees all around us. It scared me to death. Not to mention the fact that we were raided by raccoons. I hated it, and promised myself I’d never go camping again.

I went camping 2 years later for a second time. I was 14, and a lot had changed. I was no longer scared of thunderstorms, was more mature, and overall, more brave. My parents, yet again, sent me away to an overnight camp. But it was different. This time, I slept at a comfortable lodge with a TV, kitchen, living room, everything. And instead of 2 weeks, it was 9 days and 8 nights. It was lead by Andrew, a biologist who works at the museum in downtown Raleigh. The whole program was just me and 7 other campers. Will, Brandon, Patrick, Seth, Adrian, Wyatt, and Julian. Will was annoying, and I despised Brandon. Then again, I think everyone did. He was a jerk to everyone, even Julian, who was only 9. Anyway, on the second day, Andrew took us on a campout to a place called Misting Mountain. We would be there for 4 days and 3 nights.

When we arrived, I immediately began having flashbacks of my last camping experience. I can do this. This is easy, I told myself. Oh, god. What I saw made my stomach flip flop. We were sleeping in tents? I was extremely claustrophobic. This was going to be a fun time. After all the tents were pitched, Andrew said we could go exploring. I started following a little snake, and when I was about 20 feet from the tent, I saw something that caught my eye. Lying under the leaves, was an old compass.

It was rather heavy, which surprised me when I picked it up. “Watcha got there, Jake? Called Seth. I showed him the compass. “So it was made in ’77?” He asked. “What? Wait-” I looked at where he was pointing on the compass. Right above the glass casing where actual compass is, were little numbers inscribed: 12/12/77. Proud of what I found, I went to show Andrew. “You should definitely hold on to that.” He told me. So I did. I put it in my backpack, hoping that little shit Brandon wouldn’t see. That afternoon,we went on a hike. When we got back, I noticed something behind my tent. As I approached, I was hit with a rancid smell. Laying about 20 feet from my tent, was the body of a squirrel. What creeped me out the most was the fact that it was in the exact, and I mean exact spot where I found the compass. I went to go get Andrew, and when he came to see it, it was gone.

He told me to stop playing games, and I stood there, thinking about what I had seen. Had it really been there? Or was I just seeing things? I had no time to dwell on it, because it was time for our evening swim.

At the lake, I was having so much fun that I completely forgot about the dead squirrel. We were splashing, dragging each other under water, yanking on each other’s feet, typical water games. When we got back, I was getting something from the tent, and that’s when I noticed it. The familiar rancid odor hit me like a sledgehammer. Another dead squirrel lay dead in the exact same spot as before. But only this time, it was more gruesome. It’s left eyeball was popped out, and it’s back right foot was missing. What is going on? I was officially scared now. Could it have been Brandon? Was he really that sick and twisted enough to pull a cruel, disgusting joke such as that?

I had my doubts about Brandon, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but blaming him. It was bedtime. I didn’t dare check outside to see if the squirrel was gone, of if something worse had taken its place. I just wasted to go to sleep.

That night, I had the strangest dream. I was in the middle of the woods at night. The place looked oddly familiar, it was our campsite, only there were no tents. It was just an empty clearing. There was no movement, and there was no sound, except for the intense chirping by the crickets. It was really misty, and a full moon illuminated the sky. Then, I could just barely make out a shape in the darkness. There were no details, just a tall figure. It stood there motionless, for what seemed like an hour. All of a sudden, it got bigger, and bigger, and bigger. The sound of leaves crunching grew in my ears, just before I heard, in a deep, raspy moan, “You did this.”

I woke up the next morning. I gasped for air, and was sweating hard. I was the only one in the tent. I got dressed, slipped on some shoes, and head outside.

When I saw it this time, I actually vomited. In the spot, was not a squirrel, but a deer. It’s entrails were scattered all over, both its eyes were missing, and on its back, was carved “You did this.” I called for Andrew again. “What is it?” I pointed to where the deer was. “And?” “You-You don’t s-see it?” I sputtered. “See what?” “The deer!” I yelled. Andrew just rolled his eyes and walked off. But I could see it just fine. What the hell is going on? I need answers. I’m losing my mind.

All throughout the day, I wasn’t having fun. All I could see was the dead deer, the entrails, the carving, all of it. And the voice, that awful voice, it kept ringing in my ears constantly. “You did this”. What? What did I do?

My god. How could I be so stupid? The compass, it was the compass. The dead animals started appearing in the exact spot where I found it. I knew what I had to do. I had to return it. I walked to the spot where the animals had been, thankfully, the deer was gone, and buried it back under the leaves. I did it. It’s over now.

That night, I lay down, ready to go to sleep, and as soon as my head hit the pillow, I was off. I didn’t have the same dream as before. The crickets were chirping, and a soft breeze was blowing. It was the same clearing, and the figure was much more detailed. It was a girl, in a white nightgown, straight brown hair, and the palest skin I’ve ever seen. Her mouth was wide open, in fact, it looked wider than a normal person’s mouth could go. She had no teeth. And her eyes, oh, god her eyes. They were huge, with big, dark circles under them. The appeared to be glistening, and it looked as though she had been crying.

I heard “You did this” again, but this time, it was in a whisper, by that of a female voice. She held up an arm and pointed it at me. Her screaming expression the same. I woke up the next morning crying. Getting rid of the compass made everything so much worse, but why? I so scared, I begged Andrew to let me go home. He called my parents, and they came to pick me up the same day.

That was 4 years ago. I remember all of it like it was yesterday. The girl, the voices, everything. I decided I’d do some research on Misting Mountain. What I found shocked me. A couple of decades ago, a woman was brutally murdered by a man… a man named Jacob Lawrence II, at the exact same campsite, on December 12th, 1977. All that was ever found was a bloody compass, which was later lost. My name is Jacob Lawrence IIII.

No, this couldn’t be happening. My grandfather murdered this woman. Everything fits together, I’m a descendent of him, I came to the campsite, I found the compass. As I was pondering all these thoughts, an email popped up on my computer. It was sent by “anonymous”. Attached, were a bunch of images of me at camp. Andrew must’ve taken them. In all the shots with me in them, you could see her, with that terrible screaming face, both her hands on my shoulders.

At the bottom, were 3 words. “You did this”.

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July 18, 2014
by derpbutt

A Race For My Life.

A Blind Race For My Life.

I’m still afraid of the dark. I’m 30 years old and my heartbeat goes berserk if all the lights are cut off at the same time. The only thing I fear more than darkness is being near dark woods at night. People say that I’m either being a wuss or paranoid, but I,… I know better. I always carry a small flashlight about myself, so at least I can see when it comes for me.

I was 10 years old then. My family was at my great grandparent’s ranch in a family gathering. I played, fussed about my great grandparents, ate a lot and then played some more until the afternoon fell. All was blissful enjoyment until my father was invited to have ‘a beer’ and see a baseball game in a terrace. In my country, when you’re invited for ‘a single beer’ is codename for ‘a CASE of beer’ in other words a drinking binge. My mom was in on the deceit, and seeing the potential danger of dad drinking too much sent ME to tag along with him, in the hopes that he would find himself forced to return early.

That didn’t happen. As soon as dad saw that the finals game was playing in a huge (bigger than me) color TV I knew I was in for the long run. After 3 hours it was dark and my throat was raw of continuously asking to leave. I whined and whined to get him to take me back. When it became too much for the other parents and men to bear, one of them had to ‘suggest’ that since the terrace was directly behind my great grandparent’s ranch I could use the fence to guide me there. – “The path is well lit” – the drunkard said. – “Martha’s ranch is at the immediate right so even if she is stupid enough to stray and get lost she’ll end up in family territory”

I turned wide eyed at my dad. SURELY he wasn’t going to send his daughter alone through a freaking plantain crop in the night so he could stay a bit longer! Well the bastard did. He told me I had two choices; I could either stay here and shut it, or get going back to my manipulative mother. I squared myself, I was a rebellious kid back them, I made classmates eat dirt for talking trash about my parents. However, this was one of my parents, I only could give him the meanest stare I could muster before turning around and make it to the patio to start my walk.

The first 5 minutes or so of the walk where making me reconsider to turn around. I had light; there were lamp post every now and then. Despite that drunkard’s assessment I wasn’t stupid and kept a straight line following the fence. Still, the quiet around me, the loneliness, the treacherous mud that constantly made me slip, the weird shapes that my full speed imagination was making me see in the plantain crops had me nearly crying. Dad was SO GOING TO PAY for this! I was already making a plan in my head. I was going to fake-cry as soon as I spotted the ranch, then I was going to find mom and tell her what dad made me do in colorful detail, and how mean he and the other men were, and that he called her names, and that…

An energy blackout.

People forget how truly dark the night is without a lamp, light bulb or a flashlight to fender off the darkness. Well for me at that moment a blackout was the last thing I needed. It was a moonless night; I couldn’t see anything at all. I couldn’t even see my hands in front of my face. I quickly knew I could either stay still and wait for the blackout to end or continue walking blind using the fence to guide myself. I just made the choice to go on when I heard a ‘crunch’ sound. I froze, I heard it again, I wanted to turn and see what had made it but I knew I’ll see nothing. ‘Crunch, crunch, crunch’ that was the sound of leaves being step on which meant that someone was coming over to where I was.

‘Crunch, crunch, crunch’

Except that when you’re 10 you know all the stories of the boogieman, the chupacabra, the crying lady, the children dealer… that could have even been my dad… but a stressed imagination made it a monster.

I ran.

I ran blindly, outstretching my right hand brushing the fence to make sure I was running in the straightest line possible. My straw hat fell to my back, the safety string keeping it from falling to the ground. The ‘thing’ that was following me, the monster started to run too. I knew it was a monster now because it didn’t spoke or yelled for me to stop, or at least to call who has there. I didn’t need further confirmation of what was chasing me, but the monster decided to voice his displeasure at a fast meal I suppose and let out an earsplitting growl.


I was a fast kid then and fear made wonders with my stamina. Still the ground was slippery and after a few feet I fell and kissed the ground. I quickly got up and ran and felt the ground shook as if the monster had landed where I had fallen. After a while, I don’t know how long (seconds, minutes) I was beginning to feel cramps, I knew my knees were scrapped and bloodied and my lip torn but the monster was right behind me. Suddenly, I spotted turpentine lamps in the distance and I recognized them as the patio lamps of my great grandparent’s ranch.

For the first time in the entire chase I yelled. MOM!, MOM!, HELP ME!, SOMEONE HELP!!! I pushed harder, the monster too. I was nearly there, the plantain crop ended, I was in the patio, I felt something grab my hat and pull me back, I shook my head, and pulled the safety string over my head and the hat came loose. I ran, ran, ran, until the earth became gravel and I saw the immediate back yard of the houses.


I saw movement ahead, shapes running to where I was. I felt the creature slow down but I sure as hell didn’t. Soon I bypassed all the people that ran to my encounter and made it for the central house where I knew my mom was. Once I found her I made way through all the other parents, vice-griped myself to one of her legs and busted crying.

“What the hell? Why are you like this? IS THAT BLOOD? Where the hell is your father?”

I told her everything, my father’s part greatly minimized in favor of the escape from the monster. Regardless, it was all for naught. I was a child, a scared one at that. My conviction was dismissed as imagination because monsters just don’t exist, despite being told otherwise by the same people to get you to behave and eat the freaking vegetables!

My great grandparents were not so quick to dismiss my story though. – “Didn’t Martha’s boy went missing yesterday?” – My great grandfather asked with a wheezing voice. At this one of my aunts answered “Well yes, but Pablo gave him a whipping, he left to make them worry, he always does that, little rascal, he might turn up in a couple of days when he gets kicked out from where he is”. My great grandmother slowly shook her head. – “Mark our words children” – my great grandmother said her breathing a bit elaborated – “The woods holds many dangers still. Beyond mere bugs to sting you, tarantulas to bite you and crevices to fall into while drunk.” – She locked eyes on me – “It is good that you learned that and survived child. My brother Federico was not so fortunate. We found only what ‘The Taker’ couldn’t fit into his belly.” – At this all other grownups groaned and whispered ‘here we go again’, but I went still. I won’t ever forget.

One good thing though is that between showing up alone, disheveled, scared, knees bleeding and lip swollen, my dad, the drunkard that had the idea and all other present at the time had the trial of a lifetime not just from my mom, but all the other parents as well. We went to bed a bit late due to all the retelling but I still couldn’t sleep.

Just as well because I had a visitor.

I heard ‘it’ walking the gravel outside of the cabin. I stood up from the bed I was sharing with my family (minus dad, who was in the floor). It had to be “it” it was almost 3am, no one stays up that late under my great grandparent’s roof. I turned on the flashlight and check that the windows and door were bolted. Then I waited, listening, just a bit after 4am after making several rounds on the cabin, it left. I didn’t sleep at all.

The next morning I got up with mom. She was going to be the first out of the cabin, and though the monster still scared me as hell I wasn’t going to let her face it alone. I nearly cried with relieve when I saw half of the whole gathering up and about, understandable since we were all leaving after lunch.

But as we entered the kitchen we saw a huge commotion, once we closed in I saw Don Carlos, my great grandparents youngest, he was the center of attention due to what he was telling.

“I’m telling you what I saw! His whole body was chewed over! All the flesh from the stomach, the thighs and legs, arms and forearms, buttocks, his manhood,… God. DOGS DON’T DO THAT SHIT! They don’t strip over a body of ALL the clothes and eat the parts with the most flesh! I don’t care what the authorities say. That’s not the work of a pack of famine dogs!!! – Another man I did not recognized piped in – “But Carlos, what if there were several dogs? That could be…” – “OH REALLY NOW! – my great uncle bellowed. – “And I suppose dogs can open ribcages too and make do with the organs! Those ribs were pried open!”

We left right after coffee. The death and the matter of how Martha’s and Pablo’s son’s body was found brought an end to the family gathering. Some families stayed for breakfast. But my parents started packing after hearing the bit about how a straw hat with a pink ribbon, my straw hat, was found mere feet from the boy’s body. But what really made them throw the bags in the trunk and bolt with me, was that an uncle came from inspecting the path in which I ran from the monster the previous night, saying that there were no tracks of dogs, but tracks of hooves, which he couldn’t understand as no one owned mules or donkeys in the area.
Credit To – NaiaraDLCR

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July 18, 2014
by derpbutt



My name is Marcus Williams. I live in a suburban, 2-story home in Pennsylvania. I live with my wife, Annie, and teenage son, John. The house has a very nice layout. On walking through the front door, there are stairs leading upstairs are to the left, and there are two short passageways in front of you and to the right. Taking the right way will lead you to the game room, while going straight will take you to the dining room. At the left of the dining room is the living room, and to the right, the kitchen. Going upstairs, my son’s room & bathroom are to the left of the hallway. The computer room and my room are on the right. Also to the right is the entrance to the attic, and the guestroom. Then, there’s the basement, where the heater and electrical equipment is. It was a well layed-out house, and we had lived in there for 7 weeks. We were happy. Normal.

It started on a Monday morning. Winter was coming to a close, but it was still cold enough to freeze our water pipes. John got up at 5:00 to get ready for school, and noticed the hot water wasn’t running, so he woke me up to help. I told him to just take a cold, quick shower while I checked out the heater. I went down to the basement, and looked at the heater. Sure enough, the hot water pressure was very low. I decided to just let a faucet run on hot until it came back on, and started up the stairs. When I got the the top of the stairs, I saw, out of my peripheral vision, something very pale coming out of the guestroom, and halting. Thinking it was John scrounging for clean clothes, I turned away. “John”, I said, “just run to the other side to your room, I’m sure there’s something there.” I heard nothing. “John?” I called again. “What?” I turned to see John in his room, dressed, and already brushing his teeth. He saw the confusion on my face, and asked me what was wrong. I shook my head and said “nothing. I’m just tired.” I told him to have a good day at school, and said goodbye. As I crawled back into bed, I thought I heard the sound of light scratching moving down the hallway, but I was asleep before I gave it any thought.

I slept in late that day. Luckily, I had a day off, and was able to lounge around the house, and relax. That is, until I got a message from Annie asking me to go to the grocery store at 2:00 in the afternoon. I reluctantly left the house, and went to the store. When I came back at 2:50, I put away all the groceries, and sat down on the couch. After a couple of minutes passed, I heard the scratching again. Louder this time. Maybe John’s home I thought. I walked to the stairs, and yelled up, “John! You home?” The scratching stopped. I heard breathing. “John! Are you up there?” I heard a voice say, “Yeeesss”. It was a light, slightly shrill voice that sent chills down my spine. I thought maybe John was just playing with me. It wouldn’t be the first time. I yelled, “John, is that you? Answer normally.” Silence. I decided to go up and investigate. Halfway up the stairs, I heard the scratching again. It was a very short, loud burst, heading down the hallway, towards the guest room. I heard the door close. I walked to the door, and grabbed the knob. As I started to open it, I saw it’s face. It was… very pale, paper white. It had two eyes, but one looked like it was sewn shut. The open one was barely even an eye. It looked like a black hole, dark, and deep. It looked like a bottomless socket. It’s mouth……. I can barely put it in words. It kept changing. It went from a human-looking mouth, to a horrific set of jaws, with long teeth. They were stained with what looked like blood, and there were no cheeks covering the fangs, so it widened into a terrible smile. I was about to yell out and slam the door shut, when I heard the front door open and close. “Dad! You home?” It was John. I looked down the hallway, then back at the little slit in the door. It was gone. No scratching. No face. No breathing. Nothing. “Dad!” John yelled again. “Y-yeah, I’m here”, I stuttered. I went downstairs to greet my son, and ask how his day was. I told myself it was nothing, that I had imagined it. Nothing happened for the rest of the day.

That night was a nightmare. I had said good night to John, kissed Annie good night, and was about to fall asleep. I was ready for the sweet relief of dreams, and the comfort of knowing that my family was fast asleep and safe. I closed my eyes, and smiled. I heard it again. Breathing and scratching. Inhale, drag, exhale, drag, and on, and on for 5 minutes right outside the door. Then, it suddenly stopped. Then came the thump… thump… thump. It was coming from the attic, now. What’s it doing in the attic, I thought. I sat up in bed, blinded by the darkness in the room. Thump. There it was again, closer now. Thump. The closest light was across the bed, on the other side of the room. Thump. What about John? Was he safe? Thump. I checked Annie. Still asleep. Thump. Thump. Thump…… Nothing. It had moved down the hallway, and stopped halfway. I listened closely, waiting for a sign to move. I heard John’s door open. Thump. I jumped out of bed, threw my door open, and flipped the hallway’s light switch. What I saw made me collapse to my knees. There, in the middle of the hallway, one claw imbeded in the cieling, the other grasping my son’s hair, was the thing. It’s mouth was fixed in that fanged smile, fresh blood dripping into it’s open eye socket. I looked at John. His throat was torn open. His eyes… were gone. The creature dropped the lifeless body, and itself, dropped to the floor, landing on it’s feet. It’s right claw changed to a human hand. It was clenched. I was still on the floor, too stunned to move. It slowly opened it’s hand, revealing my son’s eyes. The stitches on it’s eye began to undo themselves. When the eyelids parted, a mixture of ash and blood poured out of the socket. It slowly lifted it’s hand to the socket, and placed John’s eyes inside. They imediately came to life, and stared at me. I could see the fear in them. The pain. I felt a sudden rush, and leapt toward the hellish thing, screaming like a madman. It swiftly knocked me out of the way, and I tumbled down the stairs. My head hit the wall at the bottom of the steps, and I was knocked unconsious.

I was awoken by the sound of someone yelling. For a split second, I thought it was my son’s voice. Then I saw the flashing blue and red lights. They threw me in the back of the cruiser. I asked about my wife. Nothing. I asked again. Again, nothing. I started to scream her name. I felt a sharp prick in my neck, and I was out again. I woke up here. The white room. The stale air. The tightness around my torso. I can’t move my arms. I can’t move my legs. I can’t move my head. All I can do is mumble incoherent sentences, and move my eyes around the whiteness. I hear nothing but my own voice. And scratching. And breathing. And the thump… thump… thump.
Credit To – Raddams334

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July 18, 2014
by derpbutt

The Deleterious Child

There was a story in my town about this house that was owned by this poor woman who had immigrated from Ireland in the 1920s. This woman had brought with her, her only son; his father had died only seconds after he was born. The woman never talked to anybody in the neighborhood, and when anybody ever tried to talk to the child, he’d say nothing. On one humid night in August, the house randomly burned down. The woman appeared to be burned to a crisp, and done for when they found her, but there was no sign of the boy; they tried searching for him in different places, but gave up after three days.

What I also hear, is that if you walk over the the charred remains of the house on any Saturday in the month of August, there will appear a small to medium sized child, no older than twelve, standing in front of you, lacking any facial expression. His skin will be very pale, and he will wear prosaic black clothing, and his hair will be short, but unkempt. What is also said, is that this boy will now appear in many of the places that you go, such as your house, where you work, or the market, at random times of day. You must also look right at him and make awareness of his presence, or he will kill you the next time he appears somewhere. Some people have gone insane after doing this for many years, others were killed by the child, others killed themselves. But there are only two people I know personally who have done this and continue to see the child to this day, and that’s my brother’s girlfriend and my gym teacher from elementary school.

Well, about a week ago I was moving things into my recently rented apartment complex, when I realized that the old burned down house was less than half a mile away from the building that I would now be living in, and it was the end of July. I figured that I’d get done moving in all my stuff (which was honestly not a lot), wait for the first Saturday in August to happen, and then walk over to that giant pit of smoke and ash for the fuck of it, and to see if these stories were true… I should have just taken their word for it.

When the day came, I walked down the street and went past the line of trees where, after that point, the houses were a quarter mile apart. I found the burned down remains of the house which was, much like the houses still standing, surrounded by a huge coalition of pine trees. I walked over to the black pit, and sure enough, there appeared the small child that supposedly haunts every person who goes here at the right time. I walked over to in front of him, and he looked past me, with no emotion at all. Eventually I heard someone take in a very deep committed breath, which I knew wasn’t me, then the boy tilted his head up, and stared right at me; his pupils like bottomless pits, and still no semblance of emotion on his face. My heart then raced, and I ran away screaming.

I came back near the building, trying to catch my breath, trying to carefully recapitulate the events thus far. Some man came up behind me and said, “You saw it, didn’t you?” He waited for my response, or something, so I turned around, nodded, assuming he was asking about the eyes of the child, but then I noticed that this person was a complete stranger; in this town of only about 300 or so people, everyone knows everyone, but I definitely didn’t remember ever seeing him.

“Try as you might to escape this angry spirit…” This man said.

When he projected those words to my face, immediately I began seeing these visions of bleak turmoil; starved people being tortured, people getting their fingers broken with a wrench, I saw the strange child coming up near me with a knife, and gently pushing it into both my eye sockets. Fortunately I returned to reality, but gasping for air, and feeling the need to scream until my lungs exploded. The man was still there in front of me, but he looked older, emaciated, looking as if he’d been surviving Leprosy for many years, he looked to me once again saying,
“You will only provoke it if you run..”

Then he exploded and disappeared as some indiscernible ash.

I finally went back into my apartment, and sure enough, that pale sickly child was there, in the corner of the kitchen. I looked at him, said “Hi,” and went to where my bed was, because after all those events, being awake was the last of any options.

But in the middle of the night, there was some kind of illumination seeping from the crack of the door, that looked like it could blind. I slowly opened it up, and the child was still there, it that same spot, lifeless, with this intense light bouncing on and off the walls and him. I looked right at him and gave him the obligatory “Hello,” followed by going back to bed.

The next morning I was out of bed, still with many questions, that I hoped could be answered by someone.

The child was once again in that corner of the room; my guess then was that I just had to go places in order to give him an idea of where he’d find me. So after giving the “Hi,” I walked all around the town, through the woods, to places miles away where there were mostly hills with just one house on each of them.

I came back to my apartment, sweaty from all the walking around in the August heat, only to find the child still in the kitchen but this time, in the center, and not in the corner. And once again, he appeared to be illuminating with a bright glow around him. I said “Hi,” but then I actually got words out of him… he said the same thing that that deranged hobo said… “Try as you might to escape this angry spirit, you will only provoke it if you run.” But he said it in a tone that sounded high-pitched but at the same time abrasive and vitriolic. It was almost like he despised me in some way.

I then just walked away from him, but little did I know it was going to be more… let’s say, difficult. I got out of bed the next morning, and there he was, still in the center of the kitchen, but he was holding up a noose and staring right at me the moment I opened the door. I did say “HELLO” but this time with a slight bit of fear, as I thought he was going to murder me right then and there.

I just ran out after that, not even bothering with a shower or breakfast. I then thought to go back to the burned down house, even though it was Monday, maybe there would be some kind of answer there. However, upon going near the place, it appeared to just be a field of grass and flowers; no inkling of there ever being a house upon this one place. With quite the bit of suspicion circulating in my brain; these questions prevailed. Maybe they finally cleaned this place out? No, I would’ve heard about it if they did? Will the child appear hear again? Doubt it.

But as this festival of ambiguity went on in my mind, I felt some tiny hands wrap around my legs and bring me to the ground, looking right up, the child was there, looking right at me with a look of complete rage. He brought down his hands and began to strangle me, causing me to black out.

Suddenly I awoke in my room again, but there was some kind of white noise that strongly erupted around me. They say silence is deafening; well, I could feel my eardrums close to the point of exploding, before I jumped off the bed, and struck my feet into the ground, hoping some other noise would be made audible from it, but then all I heard after doing so was just some weird medium pitched buzzing sound.
Next thing I thought to do was to open the door to the kitchen, hoping he wouldn’t be there. He wasn’t, and the entire place appeared to be normal. This was only for a few seconds, as that brightly intense light prevailed all throughout the room for several seconds, and what appeared to be a giant hand rising up from the floor, but then it all disappeared.

As I am writing all this, I’m not sure if the child that I’ve encountered is continuing to follow me, and that thing was his work, or if this strange curse of being followed has been lifted. But I am sure of one thing, if I ever see that child again, I’m sure he’s bound to make my life a living hell. I’m leaving this document open on my computer for whoever finds it. I’m going to leave this building, run all the way to the river, and let it take me to wherever it may end. I just hope that he doesn’t follow me.
Credit To – Geoff

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July 10, 2014
by derpbutt

In The Closet.

I was afraid of the dark when I was a child, afraid of the closet, afraid of going out of my room to go to the bathroom or get a drink. Let’s just say I was afraid of a lot of things. The reason I was afraid of some of these things were just as simple as ‘They look scary,’ or ‘I’ve heard things.’, some of them were because of past experiences, such as the closet. Listen, I’ll tell you why I’m afraid of the closet, but don’t think I’m delusional for this.
I was four or five, maybe even three, when this happened. My parents had just tucked me in and kissed me goodnight and went into their room. I usually stayed up for about an hour or so before falling asleep, so, I was sitting up in bed, cuddling my stuffed cow named ‘Cowy’. As you can tell, I was very creative when it came to naming things. As I was cuddling her, I heard a creaking noise, so I quickly looked up to see that the closet door was open a tiny bit, and as soon as I glanced at my stuffed cow then back at the closet, it was closed again.
I took a deep breath of relief. I was on the verge of falling asleep, so I assumed it was just my head playing tricks on me. Just ten minutes later, I heard the creaking noise again. I looked up, terrified to see the closet door was definitely open, and then closing right before my eyes quickly and smoothly. It was not until then where I thought it was best to go to sleep. I burrowed myself into my blankets and squeezed my stuffed cow tightly to fall asleep, and I eventually did.
Just about an hour and a half later the creaking noise began again, first softly, but then getting louder and louder, until transforming into a loud and eerie squeaking noise. I popped my head up from the covers, startled half to death to find that the closet door was almost all the way open, and it would not close no matter how long I stared at it. I eventually gained the courage to get out of my warm and soft blankets and travel to the closet and close it. I unwrapped myself from the blankets and stepped onto the soft carpeting of my bedroom floor. A cold chill raced down my back and up and down my limbs. I slowly inched toward the closet, making sure not to make a noise. When I reached my destination, I grabbed the closet door knob tightly and pushed it to the left to close it. Just before the door reached the door jam, a big, dark hand came in front of the closet door to prevent it from closing. Its’ long and black, evil nails curled around the door holding it in place. I saw a red, glowing, firey eye when I looked in the crack.
I ran to my parents’ room and started balling my eyes out, screaming there was a monster in my closet. They didn’t believe me, I was sure of that, but they BOTH came to look through my closet to make me feel safer. They looked up and down the closet and saw nothing, hell, they even checked under the piles and piles of clothes that were scattered around the closet. Nothing was there, nor did it look like something ever was. I told them I was still scared and they let me sleep in their room that night.
The next morning, I went into my room and found a note on my bed. It read: “Dear Sara,
Love, I don’t get why you’re so scared of me… I mean, I’m… I’m a really nice guy when you get to know me… Anyways, if you ever need me, you know where to find me… In the closet (: – Xoxo, Satans’ little helper”
Years later, here I am, in my old house, my old bedroom specifically, the closet with the alleged monster in it right in front of me as I am writing this. I think I might check what’s in the closet…
Credit To – Sara Rubchinuk

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July 10, 2014
by derpbutt

There IS Somebody Out There…

I live in an empty house on an empty street in an empty neighbourhood in an empty town. The empty town is in an empty country, and the empty country is, I guess, in an empty world. I’ve been here ever since I can remember. There is nothing aired on the radio. There is nothing on TV. There is virtually nobody here.

My days are empty, too. I don’t talk to anybody – not even myself. I suppose I just grow my vegetables, keep my place clean and tidy, and sometimes I eat. I have no meat, as there are no cows or birds or any moving living thing, for that matter. I’ve just gotten used to it, but occasionally I wonder what the hell I’m doing here.

Last night, I stormed out of my house, looked up to the stars and cried out desperately, falling upon my knees. “Is there anybody out there?” I shouted at the top of my lungs, “Anybody?”

Silence. Sheer silence, and the suffocating emptiness of the world.

But I woke up this morning, and was astonished to find a slip of paper halfway through my letterbox. I picked it up, looked at it, and got this weird chill all over my skin. On the paper was scrawled a single word:


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