For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…


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Hey, you.

Yeah, you. Reading these stories one after another, hungrily taking them in and relishing the terror building in your stomach. Alone at night, back to your dark room and the shadows creeping at the edges of your vision, the glow of you screen turning armchairs and hanging coats into monsters made of shadow against the walls. Trying to control the shivers and the hysterical giggles that come burbling from you every time you swear you see a shadow move.

You feel so brave right now. Eyes soaking up the most terrifying tales you can find on the site, enthralled by how real they feel as the adrenaline pulses through your veins when that tree branch scrapes against your windowpane. It feels good, though–your fear is like a drug, heightening your senses and suspending your disbelief. Even when you shut off the screen, that familiar fight-or-flight response remains.

Did you lock the doors? How about the windows? What was that noise? Are you sure that knickknack’s always been on your shelf?

Only teasing. We both know such terrors as you read about online don’t really exist. How could they? It’s completely illogical. Bad things happen, sure; unexplained things, but they aren’t things that happen to you. You’re fine–safe in your own familiar house. The creaking walls are merely the house settling. The sinister whispers outside are just the wind blowing through the trees. The dark is comforting and familiar as a blanket; you know it too well for it to represent that unknown black enigma all beings fear.

In fact, as you shut off your computer and prepare to climb in bed, you aren’t afraid at all. The revelation almost makes you laugh at loud because of how good it feels. You’re bigger than those silly ghost stories you’ve been reading. They’re so unlikely, so childish. Impossible. You don’t believe a word.

Heck, I’ll bet you could even prove it to yourself right now if you wanted to! Just stroll out into the pitch black hall and stand there. Stand there with your back facing out of your room and into the house, all by yourself, in the dark. Shut your eyes. Listen to the walks creaking like ships and the quiet thumps you feel more than hear a few rooms away. Remember the gruesome tales you readily absorbed for hours on end, and let blank or elongated or scarred and smiling and utterly evil faces swim against the backs of your eyelids. Wait for that familiar prickle on the back of your neck, the sensation of your legs telling you to run, the feeling like you’re being watched.

Stand there for a good long while and tell yourself that you are safe, and that there is nothing and nobody there.

And see how long you believe it.
Credit To – M. Stormageddon

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One Comment

  1. It’s not badly written, but this same idea has been done so many times before that I can’t justify posting any more incarnations of this story on the main site.

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