For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…

August 11, 2015
by derpbutt

The Photographer

There is a legend so they say on the dark corners of the internet. It is based on man, whose name is lost in the records of history. A photographer by trade in the 1950’s in Minneapolis, and not very successful. He seemed like a normal person with his dark suits, fedoras, and his camera; working odd jobs to feed his habit of photography. However, the story takes an odd twist as the photographer had a darker addiction with his photography.He murdered to fuel his desire to capture the essence of death. Leaving a city plagued by fear, and causing paranoia to cripple society. As instantly it started the murders and taunting photos disappeared. There is many theories that exist if the photographer simply died, vanished, or never existed. The photographer’s work displayed the primal of humans, and their relation with animals; each victim shared no connection to the original murders.

Yet, 65 years later from the original murders there still persist a fear. New murders have been occurring in the same matter by the photographer, and photos leak the internet. There is no connection between each victims. Most theorist come to terms with copycat murders because each murder has no geological location; for example one happened in Syracuse, New York as the next one took place in Boise, Idaho. Another theory that is floating out on the web is the photographer’s curse. The user states each photo has a curse attached to them, and will lead to death if you view the work. If a person views the work the photographer will slowly plague you with fear, and ultimately lead to death.

This user continues that the symptoms start with an intense sense of paranoia. The feeling of being watched and followed will be the first sign. Then it turns into seeing the photographer in your everyday life, and showing up in your personal life. He made an example about “Mary” from the mid 90’s that she saw a photo, and noted that the photographer would show up at her job as a secretary; he manipulated the situation and hide his true intention around everyone else. The photographer would blend into the scenery to snare his victim. The third sign would be the photographer interacting with your family,and taking pictures of them. Slowly by proxy your family and friends will be plagued by issues but not death. Finally after causing a great deal of stress and paranoia. The photographer comes at the time of 3:33 to collect your soul and your life.

Your life keeps the photographer’s curse continuing. Nobody knows if he is demonic, or a vengeful spirit. What seems eerie the fact he has never aged, but looks the same as he did in the 1950’s. What he is will never be understood or even explained. Avoid these photos, and do not allow curiosity to be your death. If you do succumb to your desire or infatuation do so at your own risk.

Credit To – A.T Lecy
Credit Link – [email protected]

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt
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The Man with a Roosters Foot

This took place December 2007 In Guasave Sinaloa Mexico. Though I wasn’t present while this happened I was told about it almost a year after.

My grandmother use to visit once a year. Usually around the holidays. Traveled two days on bus, to come see us from Mexico. Now, let me start by saying that my grandmother isn’t into the whole “scary story” thing. I mean, even as kids when we left our toy snakes or bugs laying around you’d hear her scream to get these “things” away from her.

My grandmother told me this story; when she came that year. Being Mexican you would hear many ghost stories and folklore like “La Llorona” (The Weeping Women) and you grew up being scared of “El Cucuy”. Listening to my grandmother talk about this was different to me and has stuck to me since.

Two of my cousins spent a lot of time playing foosball at “Don Manuel’s” small store. Local’s loved this place because of his amazing “Raspados” (Shaved Ice), but both Emilio and Juan weren’t there for that or even the old foosball table. They were there because it was a great place for tourist.

Robbing tourist was there way to pay expenses. The small town knew what these two were up too when they approached an unsuspected tourist, but no one would say anything. They were fatal thieves, and it would never end well for a local that would interfere with their depredations.

a few days before Christmas, a man walked into “Don Manuel’s” wearing gold chains, rings on every other finger, bracelets on each hand, high-priced clothing, and expensive snake skinned boots. A major mark for both Emilio and Juan, but before they attempted anything they would have to observe the man closely. There was a high possibility being clothed in that matter, that he was a major drug trafficker or as we would call them “Malandrin”.

Sinaloa, being a home to one of the largest drug cartels in Mexico, it was not uncommon seeing such an appearance. But robbing a “Malandrin” would only get them killed, so my cousins listened mindfully as he talked to the locals. Discovering that he was not from here. According to the man he was on a business trip as his father was an owner of a large agricultural chemical company. Relieving for my cousins to discover this; it was also an opportunity for a wealthy abduction.

Though still very suspicious of the man’s appearance, my cousins approached him. They talked very little before he mentioned if they did “Foco”. The man was around my cousin’s age and asking about “Foco” was a very common request. “Foco” is a slang term for smoking Crystal Meth out of a light bulb and the most prominent thing to do at the time. My Grandma would tell me that most neighborhood houses would no longer have porch lights due to this growing obsession. Still apprehensive about this man, my cousins took this as an excuse to take him out of the store and into their home.

Walking the man out first from “Don Manuel’s, Juan would turn around to see if anybody was watching or following them. Like mentioned, everyone would mind their own when it comes to Emilio’s and Juan’s dealings, but this time everybody present was staring at their flaky exit with unease.

Getting into Emilio’s truck, Juan comments to the man that they were going to stop by a friends to get the “Foco” . The man acknowledges with a nod, and Emilio asks him if he would like to ride with them? Without hesitation he agrees once more. There was no sign of tension in the man’s voice when asked to do certain actions, made Emilio and Juan uneasy, but at the same time certain that this man was addicted to “Foco” building an easy and quite valuable hit.

My grandmother remembers watching Emilio’s truck pull up to her neighbor’s house. Juan, steps out and heads inside. The town is small and everyone knows each other, making it very hard for strangers to fit in. My grandmother’s neighbor was Juan’s grandmother. The man didn’t know that and was made to believe it was some local drug dealer’s house. He sat in the back of the truck waiting, as Emilio spoke to him.

My grandma sweeping the front, sees a man in the back of the truck. Before getting a chance to look at him, the man tilts his hat forward to cover his face. She stood still to conceive who it was, and with a loud “Pop” the light bulbs all around the house burnt out. She was not the only one to experience this. The moment the truck drove in with the man onboard the whole block was encountering this odd event.

Juan walks out with his older brother, and they both jump into the truck. Making it seem as a drug deal Juan’s older brother sits in the back. The drugs and the money are exchanged. Juan’s older brother begins to conversate and asks to join them, but the man quickly says “no”. Without a pause Juan’s older brother steps out of the truck and right back into the house. Not a second thought or goodbye before he got out the truck, leaving Emilio and Juan staring at each other from the unusual behavior.

By the time my grandmother walked back out from checking all the light bulbs, they were already gone. The man was now heading to Emilio’s house, where they planned to keep him hostage. They were both playing it very cool with him, but had their uncertainties as this was the first time they ever attempted something unstable. At that, the conspicuous man’s presence and behavior was not easy to bear with since the start. Sitting right behind Juan in the truck the man didn’t speak much, but both of them kept him occupied to keep suspicions they thought would arise low.

Most Catholic Hispanic and Latino families will have a mural of a religious figure at a corner of there house. Emilio had one for the ”Virgencita” The Virgin Mary. It’s a very praised mural and one of the most prevailing. When my cousins were walking into Emilios home the mural stood right by the door. Causing the man to stop at the front door. The man would rub his throat focused on the mural saying it’s “too hot” inside as his skin turned pale. Then says he would rather sit outside as he turns his back on the mural. Thinking nothing of it Emilio gives Juan a nod; Juan knew what it stood for and walked outside. Passing by the mural, Emilio slides his hand over it to make the sign of the cross, but stops as his hand is soaked in what seems to be water. Describing the abnormal sight as sweat running down the mural.

Juan and the man laugh and reminisce outside as they fill their lungs with Foco. Emilio steps out from the house and the man’s laughter stops as he sees him holding up a hand gun. Juan stands up off the chair dropping the Foco and slowly walks behind Emilio. The man tensley asks them to relax picking the broken light bulb off the ground as a nervous reaction. Emilio now shouting demands, blares to the man to stop moving or he will shoot. He hands duct tape to Juan telling him to tie the man down to the lawn chair, but Juan is terror-stricken at what he sees.

While attempting to tie the man’s feet first, Juan catches a glimpse of a roosters foot and the other of a goats. Trembling he falls back scrambling at the sight. Emilio is stunned, when the man slowly stands up altering his appearance. The gold chains he wore were now strings with teeth and flesh hanging from it, he’s bracelets on each hand were not made out of bone and fingers, the high-priced clothing he wore were worn and discolored, and the expensive snake skinned boots were replaced with a roosters and a goat’s foot.

Emilio and Juan were paralyzed at the man’s new manifestation. “Both of you don’t know me” said the man. His voice profound and darker. “But I know the both of you very well.” he said walking forward. “ I have watched the both of you for a very long time and I’m not impressed” . The man continued talking as he walked off of the property. Emilio and Juan were unable to move with nothing to do or say other then watch and listen fearfully at what the man had to say. “I will be back, in six years.” finished the man as he disappeared into the dirt roads.

According the Juan’s grandmother which told my grandmother the story they were both found a week later inside Emilio’s house facing down on the laminate floor. Both being hospitalized for what the doctors claimed as “overdoses”. Emilio was deaf for a month after that incident and Juan was kept in the hospital for seven months due to him going blind.

My grandmother passed away last year due to health complications. We all loved her and is missed very much.

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt
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The 10 Floors

I coughed into my sleeve. Cold night. My nose is super runny, my eyes are all watery, and on top of that i’m freezing. On nights like this, I really question myself on why I still work as a security cop for this hospital.

“Hey Scott” My walkie screeched.

I rolled my eyes, I already knew who it was. Don. My “fellow security guard”. its funny, he’s more like my over weight lazy child who never wants to do anything. Of course, I then have to do everything while he simply watches the cameras.

“What is it now, Donnie boy”

“I just got a complaint from a nurse on the top floor, she said her patient keep hearing crying from the roof. They said, it sounds like a little girl.”

“What?” I furrowed my brow. That didn’t make any sense. Nobody has access to the top roof except for the maintenance workers, and last I checked, none of them were little girls.

static blared through the walkie.

“Say again, Don”. I said into my walkie.

“Just ………*static* …. and *static* ,,,, “

I smacked my walkie. The walls in this hospital cause these walkies to barely work at all.

“forget it, i’m just going to check it out. I’m freezing my tits off out here in the front anyway.” I spoke into the walkie.

Nothing but static replied to me.

Call me crazy, but I could’ve sworn I could hear a little girl’s voice over the static. I couldn’t understand what it said, but It sure sounded like a girl.

I walked into the front of the hospital and immediately enjoyed the warmth of the hospital air. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that much warmer, but at this point, i’ll take anything i can get.

I pushed my way into the staircases that lead to the roof. Normally, I would take the elevator, but right now i need to get warmer somehow.

“I hate these stairs” I mumbled to myself as I opened the door. The door creaked open, showing the dimly lit staircases leading up to the roof. The stairs were dirty, smudged from all dirt on the bottom of people’s shoes. the railing rusted, and the walls were what I’d imagine the inside of a sewer pipe would look like. The dim lighting created an extremely erie feeling as soon as you walk in. The brightest thing in the path was the large “Exit” sign on the top of each floor entrances.

I began walking up the stairs, hearing every footstep I took. My dark gloves damp from the wet railing.

“That doesn’t even make any sense.” i had a confused look. “This railing shouldn’t even be wet.”

I peered at the number next to the door on the floor I just stepped onto, ‘Floor 2’

I turned to walk up higher, I hear a giggle. I instantly flipped around to see behind me. Nothing.

Maybe… I just heard it in my head. Yeah, that’s it. I just let what don said get to me.

I kept walking up the stairs, ‘Floor 3’.

The stairs… don’t feel right. They feel, curved. The railing feels taller. The staircase feels, smaller, more hallow. This cant be right. all I see is the exit sign. The dim, dark red, exit sign glowing in the distance.

I shook my head, this is just in my head, I probably just had too much caffeine from trying to stay warm.

‘Floor 4’,

My breathe isn’t right, I feel like i’m barely breathing correctly, it’s taking all of the energy I have to just breathe. The steps i’m taking on every step is wearing out on me. its dark. I can barely see in front of me. Where is the exit, WHERE IS THE EXIT?!

I can barely see the red. I don’t see any letters, just a blurred red, BUT WHERE IS THE DOOR?! I’m feeling all around the wall under the sign and I CAN’T FEEL THE DOOR!

I’m breathing extremely heavy now. All I can do is walk up, now. There is nothing left I can do. I have to get to the roof. I have to get to the roof, but THESE STAIRS. WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE STAIRS!?

‘Floor 5’

I can’t see anything anymore. I’m weak. Everything is pitch black. these stairs are uneven, curvy, slippery. My mind is hearing things. I hear a little girl crying. I can barely make out a red light in the distance of what i can only assume is the exit sign. The handrail… I don’t even feel it anymore. I’m not even sure it’s even there. It’s too far away. I’m crawling up these stairs. my walkie is nothing but static.

… But that crying… God… that crying… help me… My only hope is the roof.. I need to get to the roof…

‘Floor 6’

I’m yelling for help but no one hears me.. My mind is gone.. my eyes cant see anything… This crying is so loud that it’s hurting my ears… The barely visible red… That exit sign… it looks like a red dot now… i’m not even sure if it’s the exit sign anymore.. It might just be my imagination…

I thought I might have been dreaming, so I started banging my head on the floor to wake myself up… I cant wake up! SOMEONE WAKE ME UP!!!!

‘Floor 7’

Blood.. So much blood… Behind me is a wall…. the wall moves forward as I move forward pushing me up these stairs… I’m bleeding all over from biting myself, pinching myself, My bottom lip is so injured that i can’t even open my mouth to breathe without pouring out a waterfall of blood.. my hands are so blistered from crawling up these stairs that i’m in unbearable pain from just placing my hands down to crawl forward any further.

This little girl crying… has now changed… Now she’s saying “La La La” to the nursery rhyme ‘Mary had a little lamb’. That voice she has, it’s so, angelic. WHY IS SHE DOING THIS TO ME?!

‘Floor 8’

“WHY?!” I gurgled. Blood pouring out of my mouth.

How long have I been on these stairs? How long have I been lamely scraping my body to the top of these stairs?

My eyes feel swollen, like if I had 2 black eyes. My hands bloody and bruised. I don’t think I can carry on.

leaning on the wall next to me. using all of my strength to lift my hand. I feel the ‘8’ signifying that i’m on the 8th floor. I feel as if i’ve been stuck here for months. Years. Decades.

This damn child won’t with her damn “LA LA LA”s i’m going mad. I’m pulling out my hair trying to get her out of my head. SHES SO LOUD. My ears feel as though they are bleeding.

“Just 2 more floors. Just 2 more floors” tears flowed as I cry those words out. I can’t stop now. I can’t stop. I have to get to the roof. I will live. It’s not as though i have a choice anyway, this wall behind me won’t let me go anywhere. I have nowhere to go but up. My throat is so dry, i need water. I need water.

‘Floor 9’

I hear laughter. Her laughter.

“Come on” She laughed. “You’re almost there.”

“AHHHHHHHHHH!!” I yelled angrily. She will not taunt me any more.

“I WILL MAKE IT TO THIS ROOF AND I WILL FIND YOU!” I point my now deformed fingers up at what I assumed was up, my swollen shut eyes following.

I now had a sudden burst of energy. 1 more floor. 1 more floor. I’m sprinting up these stair now. I will make it. I will live.

‘Floor 10’

I cried as I reached the floor. Tears fell harder and harder, I could barely breathe in between my stammering tears. I’m just bawling “I made it, I made it”

The exit sign is right there. Glowing. The ‘Floor 10’ sign right next to the door to the roof. That beautiful door.

There is a little girl in front of the door. head facing down, I can’t see her face. Her long blonde hair flowing down to the back of her knees. She’s standing facing the door, barely the tall enough to reach the door’s handle.

She giggled.

I reached for her. my arms, too weak to grab on. I just fell back down.

“Awe you found me” I can hear her saying.

I’m pushing myself to stand. Barely holding my own balance. I reach for her shoulders. Ready to beat the living daylight’s out of her. How dare she do this to me. How dare she ruin me. How dare she ruin my life, my mind, my spirit. She broke me. She will pay.

I grab her shoulders and I’m yelling “ARE YOU READY TO PLAY!?”

Her head then spun a full 180 degree’s to face me, her body not moving. Her eyes are bright read. Her teeth jagged and looked like shark teeth, her nose was nothing but 2 black hole horizontal to each other.

Her voice turned into a deep demonic male tone


I just woke up on a hard dirty floor. My eyesight is back. My hands are no longer deformed and blood.

I jump to my feet and I rejoiced!

My heart just dropped and My soul broke as I saw what was ahead of me.

A dark, dirty staircase, and dimly lit ‘exit sign’ with a door under it, the sign next to the door saying ‘Floor 1’.

Credit To – Drapt

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt


I had remembered my childhood better than most normally do. Especially when I was eight years old. I felt like I was a normal child. The only thing that was different was my imaginary friend. I mean, sure. Everyone has or had imaginary friends, but not the same as mine. His name was Derrek, he was a little six or seven year old. He always wore black and had a mask on.

No matter how lonely I was, he was always more lonely. When ever I had gotten upset, he was more upset and angry. At the time I didn’t know what an imaginary friend was, I thought he was real. I thought all of them were real. It was also hard to understand when my teachers told me that there was no one there, but I always pointed them out. They were real.

It was a weird week overall. My family grew silent all the time, Derrek said that it was because the bad man took a friend of mine. At the time I didn’t understand what that meant. Was there a problem? Did he get lost on the way home and someone accidently got him? No one talked about it until school started again from Easter break.

School started with a substitute, Mrs. Granger. Everyone was careful around her, no one spoke up when they weren’t suppose too. We were quiet. That was until she brought up the boy that had been caught by the ‘bad man’. It was very confusing as to what she was saying. “He took him, like he did my nephew.” A tear slipped down her face. Even then I was surprised that Derrek was quiet.

Not only quiet. When I was watching him, his skin was whiter than chalk. His black clothes were changed into ripped up jeans and a button down shirt that had red stains on it. Jagged marks filled with dirt on his arms and legs. Rope tied around his neck. He was sobbing.

But it wasn’t a normal boy sob, it was a screech, followed by tears of what looked like blood. The longer it went on, the louder it got. The lights started flickering, a few popped and exploded, causing the other kids to scream. Mrs. Granger stared wide. “Derrek stop! This is too much!” I had to yell at him to stop.

Everything stopped, leaving a few crying kids. Derrek looked at me, eyes black. “Save him!” He yelled loudly, causing me to jump. Soon after, Derrek disappearing before he told me that the boy was in a basement on Dreary Street. Suddenly Mrs. Granger had gotten up, standing in front of me.

“Jacob… Did you just yell for Derrek?” She had calmly stated. It was weird how she had asked me. “Yes, he was yelling too loud and causing the lights to flicker.” She looked at me with big eyes and covered her mouth, almost like she had discovered something.

“What does he look like?” She had asked once more, as a response telling her to detail what he looked like.

“Jacob, Derrek died twelve years ago… He was kidnapped by a guy that still hasn’t been found.” I was terrified to know this. That I knew Derrek was real, but he wasn’t a kid? He was gone? It got to me.

“Jacob, do you know anything about Derrek’s kidnapper? Do you know anything at all?” She had almost been in tears. “Yes, he told me the boy and the kidnapped was in a basement on Dreary Street. Derrek yelled at me to save him.”

All I remember after that was that she called the police. The boy was found and the bad man was caught.

I haven’t seen Derrek since that day, but I experience rather odd phenomena every now and then.

I now have a family of three kids and a beautiful wife.

My son Jeremy often talks about a boy in black talking to him, almost like Derrek, but I don’t see Derrek anymore. So it has to be his imagination, right?

Credit To – Lauren Kepler

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt

The Shadow In The Trees: Archangelus

It was five years ago, during the hot summer months in Texas. We were visiting my aunt in a rural area of the state maybe a couple hours to the northeast of Houston. I had lived in Houston most of my life, roughly fifteen years at that time, so the change in environment from large crowded city to a less densely populated wooded area was something I wasn’t used to. As much as I didn’t want to be there, I had to. This would have been the last time my family would get see her as she had grown gravely ill and there didn’t seem to be any chance of recovery. Though how she left this world is something that I will never forget.

The first Tuesday after school ended was when my mom received the call from my grandfather. Very soon after, it seemed like we were packed for a year-long expedition despite us only planning to stay a week. It was my parents, my younger brother Brandon, our overly-energetic Chihuahua, and me. My dad had to drive the entire way there as my mom was in no state to as she was beyond worried of losing her only sister. We probably traveled the entire way in only half the time it should have taken. Once we arrived, an ominous feeling shot over me. I couldn’t help but stare at the nearby tree line. I tried to push aside the unsettling feeling and brought my bags inside my aunt’s house, where we would be staying in the rooms down the hall from her. Even around family there was still a slight atmosphere of a haunting isolation. The closest house was a couple miles down the road. It was late when we arrived so I decided to try and sleep away this feeling. I shared the room closest room next to my aunt’s with Brandon, so I guess there was a little bit of comfort.

I laid down on what felt like the most uncomfortable mattress in the world. The springs felt like they were popping out of the cushioning and digging right into my back. The blanket was a carpet-like fabric, which personally I believe shouldn’t be made into any kind of blanket spread. And no pillow. The old house creaked and clicked, and just as I drifted into sleep the door flew open, suddenly jolting me awake. It was my dad. “You two come see your aunt real quick,” he said. My heart was racing from the sudden jump. I got up and walked out the room with my brother following and let him pass, but something made me turn around. Through the window I saw a shadow quickly rush by in the small amount of light shining through. Maybe a raccoon or something, I thought. Or maybe my imagination.

Through my aunt’s door my mom waved to me to come in. Seeing my aunt I could tell she really was hanging on by a thread. She was only thirty-six, yet she could easily be mistaken as someone more than double her age in this condition. She was almost pale white and her usually thick brown hair had become thin and somewhat transparent. In a weakened voice she called out my name. “Chris,” my aunt made out, “come here.” It took a moment, but I managed to take six or seven steps up to the left of her bed. There she said the usual ‘I haven’t seen you in however long’ conversation. While she was talking I noticed she was probably having trouble seeing me. Her pupils were cloudy and gray, and I really couldn’t help feeling very sorry for her. Even if I’ve never seen her much, she was still family.

After we were done with a small conversation, I returned to my room with Brandon and tried again at falling asleep. I finally found myself asleep but soon I awoke maybe an hour or two later. My dog was at my window barking his head off at something, with my brother right beside him. Still half asleep I asked him, “Brandon, why are you up?”

Still staring out the window, he answered, rubbing our dog’s head to try and calm him. “I haven’t gone to bed yet,” he said a little uninterested. “Mommy and daddy just left to go get Grandpa Mike from his house.” I didn’t think much of what he was doing, but before I told him to get back to bed, he said something that send shivers down my spine. “Chris, do… do you see the man standing over there by the trees?” In an instant, I jumped up from my bed and grabbed Brandon to get him out of the window. I took a peek at the edge of it and saw a shadow in the trees, and in that shadow were piercing white circles, I could only guess eyes, with an otherworldly presence coming from it. Then they disappeared and the man-shaped shadow quickly faded into the trees behind it. It had to be some kind of robber or insane man on the loose, I thought. Now there was an overwhelming sense of danger and we were in the middle of it. A fifteen year old, seven year old, a sick bedridden woman, and a Chihuahua. My first instinct was to close the curtains and then tell my brother to hide under the bed in case the mysterious entity tried to make a move.

I ran out the room and into my aunt’s. She was asleep and still breathing. That was good. What I did next was probably the most insane thing someone my age and situation could have done. I grabbed a flashlight and a large kitchen knife, and then stood by the door trying to build up courage. I would normally just block the door during something like this, there was something luring me to whoever or whatever was out there. I slowly opened the door and stepped out into the warm Texas night.

Before I could move, I saw it positioned right in front of me. It wasn’t a man like Brandon had thought. It looked right at me, past my eyes and deep into my soul. From a crouched position I saw this dark colored creature stand straight up, within fifty feet from me. It was a somewhat skeletal humanoid with dark gray, leathery skin stretching over it. I noticed the fingers were elongated with large overgrown nails that formed into jagged points. But the most horrific feature was its face. Along with the large white eyes, there was something of a smile stretching across its slender, scarred face, comprised of yellow stained shards of teeth with black gums showing. And the blood that flowed down over its face like tears. I was completely paralyzed with fear. I shut my eyes, hoping it was an illusion. But the more I kept them closed, the louder the footsteps got. I began to smell the strong iron stench of blood and hot breath on my face. I wanted to scream so much but was afraid to even form the most pathetic of noises. I opened my eyes again, fearing of what would come of me, as it stared at me just inches from my face.

It was hunched over but still a good foot above my height, who myself am tall for my age. It started making out sounds I could compare as a person loudly gagging mixed and a deep, demonic growl. Yet it didn’t make a move against me. At that point I managed to make out a simple question to see if I could invoke a reply. “Wha… What are you?”

I could see what could be jaw muscles in the scars on its cheeks start to move as it made out words in the same type of voice, “Archangelus.” I was astounded. Before I could make any kind of reaction, he disappeared in the blink of an eye. I was shocked with what I had just witnessed. It couldn’t have meant archangel, could it?

I quickly ran inside the house and locked the doorknob and chain. I went into the hallway, ready to hide away from whatever that was with my brother. But when I walked into the hallway from the living room, I noticed my aunt’s door open slightly. I was beyond worried. I was hoping Brandon ran was with her in her room, but that hope was shattered when I heard our dog whimpering in our room. There’s no way he would just leave him there. When I entered the room, I found myself a guest to whatever act this creature was performing. It sat there, perched on my aunt’s headboard, reaching down and wrapping its boney long fingers around her neck. Suddenly wings erupted from its back. Large but not exactly bat-like, and they soon found a place wrapped around both it and my aunt. Before my view of her was completely blocked, I saw her staring directly into the entity’s eyes, and by her lip movement I believed she had said “Angel.”

I soon saw a bright light and quickly fell unconscious, waking up the next morning in my bed. When I walked out of the door, I heard my mom crying in the room over. I turned to see what happened and I saw her by my aunt’s bedside with my dad comforting her. Over on the right as I walked in I saw Brandon with my grandfather. “What happened to Aunt Elizabeth, Grandpa?” He asked this as he wasn’t really familiar with a family loss, as he was still a bit young when our grandmother died. The only thing my grandfather answered back with was “An angel took her last night.” Before he began tearing up. This was the second person he lost, my grandmother three years prior. All I could think of that point: angel. Angel. Just repeating over and over in my head. Soon after I asked Brandon how I got into bed last night, hoping he would answer like he didn’t know what I was talking about to maybe explain it as just my imagination.

“I saw the tall man carry you into the room,” he said. “I saw it all from under the bed.” My heart stopped. So I did experience everything that night.

I never shared my experience with anyone until last year at my wedding. I saw my grandfather just before it started and took him to the side to share the events of that night. “So you’ve seen it too now?” he asked, astounded. “It was there when your grandma passed. I came back from the market and saw it right there standing on my porch.” So now I know whatever this ‘angel’ is, it’s involved with my family. I’m twenty-one now, and decided to try and put that behind me now. Yet today that all too ominous feeling is back. Since then I’ve moved to Los Angeles with my wife but right now I’m in Massachusetts with her at the airport, after visiting some historical sites. It’s time to make our way back, but I just can’t shake this feeling. I just hope we’ll make it home for my birthday tomorrow, September 12th. I’ve decided to type this down so my story will be known. Maybe you may find out you were once on the same plane as the ‘Crazy Angel Guy’ once this story gets released. I just need to catch my plane, Flight 11.

Credit To – Abyss Infinity

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt


I woke up today at 4:30 in the morning, the same as every day. I hit the snooze button three times, then stared at the clock until I felt the cool touch of my two dogs’ noses on my mouth. The signal that I had to take them out. I knew my wife was awake, but it has been some years since we have both gotten up together.

There once was a time in our relationship when she would take the batteries out of the alarm just to mess with me. She would change the times so that I woke up an hour early. She made sure I was never late, but we used to have fun, usually at my expense. That used to be us. It isn’t anymore.

I came back in from walking the dogs and picking up crap just in time to make it into the bathroom after my wife had finished up. We slept together, lived together, and still managed to barely speak to each other or spend time in the same room. It was mostly work, at first: our schedules just never lined up. After a while, however, work just became the excuse.

It was as if magic slowly transformed the house every day. As soon as one of us would turn around, the other would switch this or that on, open those curtains over there, start cooking that part of the meal. I always turned the coffee pot on, but I was never the first one to grab a cup. We were both living separate lives. At some point in our marriage we stopped sleeping together and were instead simply sleeping in the same bed.

This morning I brushed my teeth, sat on the john, and rinsed off. Bathroom time has always been a private time. A time for meditation and a chance to wake up. I have always woken up half an hour before I have ever needed to, just so I can take my time in the bathroom. Janice always rushed to get out so we never had to be in there at the same time. It worked well. Even when our marriage was great, we never spent any time in the bathroom together. No brushing teeth, no washing hands. We absolutely avoided it. Some friends of ours would comment on how this practice seemed odd, but those relationships all ended in divorce and ours endured. The way I looked at it, spending too much time together was just as bad as spending too little.

Every three days was a rotation for food. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, bagels. Same three meals. I never complained about it, but breakfast had been just like every other part of our marriage: rehearsed and repeated.

I don’t know how any other marriage would have been for Janice. I always was predictable, much like all the other men in our town. I held a nine to five job, followed all the sports when their season came around, drank two beers a night at dinner unless it was Sunday night football or card night. Average, and stable.

If I compare myself with the other men I have met, I am certain that they would have faced the same as me if Jolene had married them. Women were all the same. Janice’s emotions were what let the marriage fall to where it was. She used to act differently, like she knew what she wanted. Back when we were dating, love felt like a game without rules. Anything was possible before the structure of a long term relationship set in. When we got married right out of high school, we were two kids playing grownups. We substituted youthful exuberance for worldly experience. It was silly, it was great, it was American.

These days, all the mysteries that made our early games worth playing have largely been solved. I know exactly how to make her happy. I know what her perfect day is. Her nightmares. What I can do to get under her skin. None of it bothers me any. Instead I feel almost a hollow feeling when I think about really putting forth the extra effort. Maybe that’s how I’ve changed.

Janice came from a rougher life than I did. Her parents weren’t the perfect inlaws, and we rarely visited with them. She was left alone a lot as a child and never really spoke about it. Seeing the way she grew into herself, I figured she always enjoyed being alone. She needed the space, so I gave it to her.

I’m about five years away from retiring from my first profession. I rarely think about work while I’m there. I mostly daydream about the next steps, finally going out to get the job of my dreams, with a pension under my belt. That extra security will really help with me continuing to build our garden in the back yard and I also won’t have to hold my cards so tight on card night. I’ve been on autopilot for so long that it comes easy now, and Janice is the same way. She makes breakfast for the five of us in less than five minutes, cleans the house by noon, and watches TV until the kids come home. Sometimes she helps them on homework. Sometimes she just fixes up dinner in five minutes and she’ll keep watching TV.

The American Dream. I go off to work, she raises the kids and keeps up our home. The perfect life. I told her a long time ago that I didn’t want her working. We have always lived in the same old-fashioned town and playing by old-fashioned rules has been important. Sure, she had a few things she wanted to do, but then we had kids, and life changes with children. Not in a bad way—she was always happy. She really was.

Today I came home and kissed Janice on the neck for the first time in over three months. Maybe the last kiss was Christmas. In any event, it had been quite some time since we had been intimate in any way. It was brief, though. She had to take care of the kids, who had started to get sick a couple weeks ago. Janice took them all to the doctor and got some medicine that the kids had been taking, but it didn’t clear anything up. If anything, they got a little worse. The blessings of having children.

So, I came home, ate dinner, and sat down on the couch to take a breather. The kids came to say goodnight and Janice took them upstairs to bathe them and tuck them in. They were a little old to take showers together, but they still insisted on it and so we never felt like stopping them. Some sort of bonding thing.

At least it saved water.

Weird kids, but I loved them. That’s what you’re supposed to do. We would go camping on the weekends when we could and we’d leave Janice at home so we could get some bonding time in: fishing, watching sports… Dad stuff. The kids had their quirks, like all people do. Janice was always insistent on not coming. She enjoyed her alone time.

I didn’t spend too much time downstairs. I could tell Janice was making the extra effort and I figured I would try to make an extra effort or two myself. She had cooked my favorite meal, and didn’t leave any dishes for me to clean. I could see all the vacuum lines in the carpet and the countertops were wet from the rags she used to clean them up. Perfect night.

I lit a couple candles and waited in the bedroom for her to finish up with the kids. She was always pushing me away. I thought that I would take the initiative for once. Be the man of the house.

I hadn’t seen a look of surprise on Janice’s face like that in years. It’s funny how things like that seem to not matter until you experience them again.

Then you wonder why it was never a priority.

I knew it had been a rough couple of weeks for her. We ended up showering together for the first time in our marriage. I don’t know why we had always avoided it. There was something deeply intimate about lathering each other up, sharing the water, trying to keep each other from getting too cold. It didn’t take much encouragement for either of us.

We didn’t even leave the shower. It was beautiful. The spraying water forced us to both keep our eyes closed, but we knew each other’s bodies well enough. We used half a bottle of body wash cleaning already clean bodies, over and over again. We took a break only to move to the bed, and we didn’t even bother toweling off.

The pleasure of that emotional warmth had never felt the same with anyone else, and it never would.

Is it possible to fall in love over time? To grow to love a person? Why not? So many secrets, but how many of those were actually secrets? As it turns out, none of them. You end up learning everything about a person. Everything, eventually. Hopefully before it’s the end.

Janice was crying.

I was always of the opinion that a person should marry their best friend over a romantic interest. You fall out of love, you fall back into love. There are the beats of a relationship, but you two move on. If you marry for love, you’ll get your heart run over. That’s why Janice and I could always take breathers. Get our space for a few months and then go back to each other. Because we were friends before we were partners. That matters.

Those breaks gave us moments. Real moments where we would connect and let it all go. Just forget the problems and we would be more than friends. We would reconnect and remember the reasons we dated all those years ago in high school.

We held each other so close. Janice knew about the secretary five years ago. It was OK. I told Janice I knew about the drinking. I forgave her. She told me about the foreman; I already knew. It was a one-time thing. Janice told me she loved me more than anything. I told her I would always love her. I would always be there for her.

We kissed for a long time. Like we were dating again. Kids. We were always just kids trying to figure out how to play grownups.

Then, under my lips, Janice started to buckle. Her lips tightened and I realized something was wrong. I didn’t want to believe it at first. She used to always joke like that, joke just to show me how much she liked me.

I couldn’t believe something was actually wrong.

She just kept saying that she was sorry. Over and over. She started spitting up blood and talking about fire. She wasn’t saying anything that made sense. I tried holding her down so she wouldn’t hurt herself. She flailed a lot. I grabbed a phone, but she had stopped moving by the time the operator picked up.


Our bed was a mess. An enormous pool of blood and dinner. The smell of stomach acid and whatever it was that Janice had drank to make herself go through what she had gone through.

Poison. She had done it right in front of me.

I held her until the paramedics arrived. She couldn’t be pronounced dead there, but I knew that she was. But that wasn’t the most horrible part of the night.

No, the most horrible part was finding the kids.

Credit To – Ashley Franz Holzmann
Credit Link –

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt

I’ll See You Tonight

Take a walk down memory lane to your childhood. I bet you had that one childhood friend that you always had little adventures with, right? Right, and I’m no different. My childhood friend was a girl named Lindsey. Lindsey and I used to hang out together all the time. On weekends, she’d come to my house early in the morning and we’d hang out until my curfew, which was around 10:00 PM. On weekdays, I’d go to her house right after school and hang out with her until 8:00 PM, which was my curfew on school days. We did all kinds of activities together, such as riding bikes, hanging out at the park, trying to avoid the fictional ‘lava’ that surrounded us. All of the normal activities kids do, we did. We both had a blast, and we promised each other we’d be friends forever.

Unfortunately, we were forced to break that promise.

One day, in the spring of 2007, Lindsey had a doctor’s appointment and had to miss school. Her doctor was nearly two hours away from where we lived, so she killed those two hours in her mom’s Jeep by taking a nap in the trunk. Sadly, that was the last nap she’d ever take.

I was in my classroom when I heard the news. It was right after lunch, so not everybody in my class had returned yet. Among those people who hadn’t returned was my 3rd grade teacher, Mrs. Sanders. Usually, Mrs. Sanders would walk into the room and greet us with a ‘Welcome back, how was your lunch?’. That day was different, though. Instead of the usual greeting, she walked into the room oddly silent. She didn’t even trade a glance with any of us. In fact, she had her face turned to where we couldn’t even get a peek of it. She was obviously trying to hide something. It wasn’t until she sat down behind her desk that I discovered what that something was.


We immediately asked what was wrong, like any other normal 3rd grade students would do. That’s when she got up and announced the stunning news that would change my life forever.

Lindsey had died in a car accident.

The news shook the Hell out of me. My best friend, dead. My only best friend. My only friend! I remember running out of class to the restroom and crying my eyes out. I was there for the rest of the school day. I refused to leave. My mom was forced to get the janitor to come and carry me out. After the accident, I suffered from depression for about 5 months, until August 2007.

That same month, something quite odd happened.

I was sitting on a tree stump, about two blocks away from Lindsey’s house. It was around 8:00 AM, and I had just gotten up from bed. I was surfing through the memories of my adventures with Lindsey. The bike rides, the stick wars, the pranks. All the fun we had.

These memories were soon interrupted by an old man.

“Hi, my name is Steve.” he said.

He was a little old man. He was scrawny and stood at about 5 feet and 7 inches tall. He was somewhat bald, and his head shined in the morning light. He was wearing a dirty old green jacket. His teeth were yellow, and he looked like he hadn’t showered in a month. But what caught my attention the most was his eyes. Instead of white, his sclera was yellow and bloodshot, and his eye color was fading.

“You’re Tyler, correct?” he asked.

“How do you know my name?!” I asked him, worryingly.

“I’ll see you tonight.” he told me.

“What… what do you mean?” I asked him uneasily.

All he gave me was a grin. He then turned around and walked away into the wilderness that sat across Lindsey’s house. ‘What was that all about?’ I asked myself in my head. I quickly got up from the stump and ran home, obviously frightened.

That night, I heard a knock on the door.

My parents were asleep, so I was the only one up to answer it.

“WHO IS IT?!” I yelled out. No answer.

I thought about what the old man had said earlier that day, and a chill went down my spine. ‘This has to be him’, I thought. I knew this guy could possibly be dangerous, so I quickly headed to the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I hid it in my back pocket and prepared myself for a potential attack. I then set my sights on the door. I walked up to it, prepared myself in case he tried to make a move, and opened it slowly. What I saw startled me.

It was Lindsey. My old dead best friend.

My mind went into total shock. I was utterly speechless. My heart felt like it was about to beat out of my chest! She was wearing a white dirty dress. I could tell her hair hadn’t been washed in months. She had a sinister smile, showing her rotting teeth. But what caught my attention the most were her eyes. They were yellow and bloodshot.

Just like Steve’s.

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt

Ring Around The Rosy

When I was around ten years old, I moved to a new house with my mother. The house had a large, beautiful, open field as our backyard. Passed the line where our property had ended was a dark think forest filled with, what must of been, thousands of trees.

When I was wandering around the new house, gliding my hand against the clean white painted walls as I walked looking downward, my mother called for me. My head jolting upwards while be startled by my her holler. I yelled back in an answer.

“Coming!” I exclaimed. I quickly ran down the stairs to see what she needed. She asked if I wanted to explore the backyard (but staying in her sight, of course).

“Yes!” I said with such excitement as my mom started to lightly chuckle. As she knew how much I loved mystery and exploration. I threw on my jacket and hurried outside through the back door.

The seasons were in the awkward changing time. You know, how when the weather is becoming warmer because it’s now spring but, it isn’t fully spring yet. Yes it has it warm days but still has its cold, winter like, chilly days as well. It was one of the situations during this story, which is why I still needed a jacket. As I reached outside I turned around only to see my mom keeping an eye on me. She noticed I was looking at her and gave me a bright smile and waved. I waved back and happily skipped around our backyard.

I found some sticks to play with and pretended to play knights. Keep in mind I was only ten and we just moved in to the house, so at the time playing with sticks was my form of entertainment. After some time I became exhausted from running around and using my imagination as key to having fun.

By this time the night sky grew dark, there was some daylight to see but not much. The sky was now a dark blue, almost purple and some stars were peaking their way throughout the clouds. I looked back through the window, into the kitchen, when my mom was before. Except she wasn’t there anymore. Confused I started to head back inside but then I heard it. A very faint whispering emerged from the woods passed the end of the property. The whispering amplified to a type of singing. Now that the voices were louder I noticed the voices matched those of little children. Roughly around my age at the time.

Their voices were so soft and beautiful. Almost like angels themselves were in my very backyard singing. I soon fell into a trance like state, almost like being hypnotized. I slowly walked into the woods unaware of my surroundings.

The only way I know I was in this type of state, is because my mother told me only a few years later, that she was practically screaming my name at the top of her lungs but I wasn’t responding no matter what. She even went as far as called the police. But because we just moved in we haven’t set up any house phones and her cell phone was in the other room. And by the time she came running back to the kitchen I had already disappeared into the blackened woods. Completely disguised within the trees and shrubbery. In a desperate attempt my mom called the police to try and catch up to me, as she wouldn’t be able to go in alone.

However, I was completely unaware of all of this. I, still in trance of the gospel like singing, wandering further and further into the woods. The singing became clearer and louder. By this point I can make out what they were saying, or rather singing. They were singing “Ring Around the Rosy.” I’m sure you all are aware of this iconic nursery rhyme.

Also by this time the sky has become immensely dark. It must be around 10:00 by now. As I got closer to the singing of the children right after they finished the last verse, they stopped and I was abruptly taken out of my trance. I remember snapping back into reality and not even being able to see my hand just inches in front of my face. Not only was it pitch black, that was engulfing almost, but it was also the now silence which was causing my head to ache.

It didn’t take long for me to begin to panic. Sweat began to pour down my face as I was breathing very heavily. After that the last thing I remember was falling hard to the ground. I must of fainted because when I had awoken I was in a different location. I was now, what seemed like, deeper into the forest. But, this time I was in an open field with thousands of trees surrounding me.

As I slowly became more conscious I noticed that the children that we singing previously we standing right in front of me. However to my surprise it wasn’t a gathering of children it was one young girl. Even though I was astonished by how this young girl could project her voice to such high and low frequencies, what happened next scarred me for the rest of my life.

The young girl, who which was still singing ‘Ring Around the Rosy” must of noticed that I was conscious once more and rapidly turned facing me whilst glaring. She had dark rings around her eyes. Thick, knotted, black hair – like she hasn’t seen a hairbrush or comb in months. Her eyes were also black and she wore a long torn black dress that hung down past her ankles. If it weren’t from the torches carefully tied with red sting to the trees, and her almost ghostly pale skin, I wouldn’t have seen her at all through the now solid blackness from the night sky.

I jolted backwards while trying to stand up and run like hell out of there. Except before I even had fully stood up. She was face to face with me harshly clinging onto my wrist. Her sharp razor like nails digging into my flesh. Blood rushing out of my body where her still digging nails were laid on my flesh. I began to squeal and squirm out of pain and agony.

The girl, no she was a horrendous monster, inched closer to my face and she began to smile, ear to ear. Her teeth were even more terrifying. They were all sharpened to a knife like point and were stained a harsh yellow. Her smile quickly faded as we both heard leaves crunching and twigs breaking. We both glared at where the sound was emanating from. My glare was much more heart warming while hers was a fierce hatred filled stare at whoever or whatever stopped her from feasting on me. I tried squirming and moving around even more now to break free. Her nails digging in more now as the blood was now rushing out of my body and an alarming rate. Then I blacked out again. Right before I had passed out, I saw multiple flashlights bobbing up and down heading in my direction. The breaking of twigs and leaves crunching became louder and closer. And I began to hear faint yells of men approaching me. As they got closer the girl released my arm and darted off jumping on the closest tree’s branches and jumping tree to tree almost monkey like still singing her song. However right before she made her quick escape she whispered something terrifying and unsettling that still to this day causes a shiver run down my spine. I cannot quote what she said to me for which it was in some very strange language. But immediately after she mumbled to me was when I fainted. As my vision became a blur the men had approached me and they were the police sent after me by my mother, which was running close behind the search party for me.

After that I’m not too sure what happened. My mom told me I was put into a shock coma for 2 and a half weeks. After which, I awoke, I had to go to daily therapist and psychologist sessions for post-tramatic stress disorder or PTSD. To this day I was never able to translate what the girl said to me or if the police even did anything to prevent this happening to anyone else.

Not as a surprise after my psychologist and therapist confirmed that I was now better ( but still needing to take medication ) and was able to live on with my life. However they highly recommend that my mom and I moved to the city or even out of state.

Several years later as I’m now writing this, I’m now living in my own apartment in a small complex just on the outskirts of the city. I haven’t heard any updates on the demonic girl. Except for last week. In which I can still just faintly hear her angel like singing just outside my window.

For readers out there, take my story as a valuable lesson and warning. Do not, by any means leave your child unattended to if you live by a massive forest. And the most important do not, go into the woods.
Credit To – LuckyMeThirteen

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt

Karma Is Real

Hey. My name’s Jay

I shared a bedroom with my brother, Chris. The room was large, but very dull and empty. I mean, sure, it had shelves and drawers, but the wallpaper and carpet were very bland. Anyway, our beds were parallel to each other, both against the wall. I’d sleep nearest the door, as Chris was always scared that something could come in during the night, even though he was older than me.

So, it was just another generic night, and we were tired from the week, so we decided to go to bed a little earlier than usual. He’d always go to bed at the same time as me just in case anything, well… happened. When we were younger, we were told that if you do bad things, bad things would come your way. If you do really bad things, bad things would come your way… permanently.

It was exactly ten years ago now. My brother and I were playing in our front garden with our dog, Jerry. We lived, and still do live, in the countryside, so there aren’t any houses around where we live for miles. Barely anyone ever drove down our road, so we didn’t expect this to happen. We were tickling Jerry’s tummy and throwing balls for him, you know, the normal things you’d do with a dog. Anyway, I threw a tennis ball for him to retrieve into the road. Jerry ran to get the ball, but suddenly, a car came speeding down the road, I guess this was because the road was not busy. It just about swerved out of the way of Jerry. It was partly the driver’s fault, as you’re not meant to go too fast down country roads, but apparently, it was partly ours. As the driver so narrowly dodged out dog, they didn’t have enough time or space to steer back onto the road. The car collided so forcefully into the huge tree just outside our house, that the driver must have died from the impact, despite having an airbag.

It started appearing on the news, that a dog has caused an innocent middle-aged woman to die in a car crash. We were all so scared and sorry; Chris was not crying like us though. Chris was smirking.

We believed in the ‘Karma’ thing that our parents told us about when we were young, so from that day on, we’ve been waiting for something horrific to happen to one of us. It’s been ten years, though. Surely it would have occurred by now. We kind of let it go after a while. It would never happen.

So, I lie there in bed, waiting to doze off. I turned over to talk to chris , about this dismal anniversary. Just as I’m about to open my mouth, Chris looks at me and says, “Hey, Jay. Do you remember when we killed that person?”
This was creepy enough, but what disturbed me the most, was that just after he said this, he laughed. I couldn’t believe it! My brother who had been scared of receiving Karma for ten years, just went and sealed his fate! He chortled for almost a whole minute before going dead silent and telling me to go to sleep. I spent a while debating if my brother was insane. It was also strange how he so suddenly changed his mood.

After about fifteen minutes of wondering whether Karma was really real, I finally fell asleep. I don’t usually have dreams. Almost never. I always tell people I never have dreams, if they ask, that is. But this night was an exception.

I was carried away, into the land of a dream. An extremely odd dream. I was in a small room, which looked slightly similar to mine, only without the small amount of furniture that I have. I couldn’t see myself; it was as if I was a camera, watching what was going on. Two people walked into the room. It was a younger person, who I assumed to be about the same age as me, and an older man, which I think was supposed to be his father. I heard them speaking about the younger person’s older brother, who had gone missing. They always knew that the older brother was a mysterious person, and they knew that he had secrets. It took a few hours, in my dream, for them to discover a small passage in the corner of his room, leading to a secret room. When they entered, camera view changed the graphics and the angle, making it look like an 8-bit platformer. I took control of the character, making it seem like I was playing a videogame. It was extremely dark in the room, with two small staircases leading to a large staircase going even deeper into the darkness. A sign was such into the ground, reading: ‘They have taken him’. The character’s father froze on the small staircase, me being unable to see his face. I proceeded down the large staircase, immediately stopping when I saw what was down there. It looked exactly like my room, except there was one more thing that mine didn’t have. There were two people sitting on chairs either side of the staircase I was on, both of their necks bent to the right. Their faces looked like somebody had cut off their natural features and replaced them with two hollow black squares for eyes, and a black horizontal rectangle for a mouth. The worst part was the noises they were making. The victims were letting off the most disturbing, high-pitched, loudest screeches I’ve ever heard in my entire life. The camera zoomed in on the father’s head, his neck and face the same. My character started screaming like the two people who were on the chairs. His head turned three dimensional for a moment, revealing who it was… It was me.
The head went back to 2D, and my face started transforming into the same face as the others.

After this happened, it cut to a blue nothingness. My brother, still in 8-bit graphics, was walking through this place, which I guess is what happened before the previous events. I then heard a faint voice yell: “Kill yourself!”

A deep pool of water appeared, and Chris dove into it, swimming downwards. I wanted to help him, but all I could do was watch! He stopped himself from swimming back up to the surface, and he eventually drowned. I could feel myself crying, but I could hear nothing. For a split second, I saw his face start changing, before I woke up.

My eyes bolted open, and I was holding my breath. I gasped for air, trying to figure out why I had stopped breathing. I guessed that I was imitating Chris as he was drowning. I hid my head under the covers, like little kids do when they’re scared.

When Chris was smiling ten years ago during the news, I had obviously noticed, but my family were too busy phoning the woman’s family, and giving them their deepest sympathy. We had their numbers because apparently, their family was friendly with ours, but I didn’t know that at the time. I didn’t want to tell them that their son was a possible psychopath.

It all made me wonder, though. If Chris had tricked me into throwing the ball into the road, if he knew that there was a car coming.

“Throw the ball into the road,” he said,
“Nothing’s coming,”
he said.

Of course I wouldn’t do that now, but I was so young and naïve, that I would do anything my big brother said, as I trusted him.

I lie there in bed, with face pressed against the wall. I wouldn’t dare turn around to look at Chris. Not after my epiphany.

I started to hear a very quiet noise, that sounded very familiar.
It got louder and louder, until it was unbearable!

By this point, you’re probably wondering where our parents were. My father… was dead. My mother was a widow. She had gone out for the night to play bingo, and had left Chris to monitor me. My father told me before he died, he had done pretty bad things in his life, but he changed when he had kids. He believed in the Karma thing too, so he said that it would come for him eventually.

It ALL made sense now.
Karma IS real.
It wasn’t an open casket funeral.

I found the courage in me to look around at Chris, praying that my theory was incorrect…
What I saw was horrifying. Chris was sitting on his bed, with the exact same face and position as the victims in my dream. I was the one who threw the ball; was the one who told me to do it. We were both involved! This meant that Karma was…

I felt an excruciating pain in my head. My vision went black.

Karma is real.

Credit To – Ibbs Pelk

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August 11, 2015
by derpbutt

The Listener

So, have you heard of The Listener? I’m sure you haven’t. Well, The Listener is a mysterious creature that lives under your bed. No, he is not the boogie-man, in face he means no harm….. usually.

You see, this all started as a simple prayer from a troubled child. The child could not speak, could not hear, could not feel. He was placed in a House Of Nuns to be “Healed”. Each night he would kneel next to his bed and knock three times under it and silently pray for a person to heal him. One night, he got his answer.

On his tenth birthday he knocked and silently prayed but this time after the prayer three knocks were received. He quickly sat next to his bed and watched as a grotesque creature emerged.

The creature had hanging skin, appearing to slowly melt off of him. His sunken eyes rolled and his smell was worse than any corpses’. His teeth were rotted and his hair was frayed.

The boy did not move as the creature circled him, for fear of what it might do. Slowly the creature looked into the boy’s eyes and he began to transform. He, sadly, only transformed for the worse. He delved deep into the boy’s thoughts and looked for all of his problems. The creature opened him mouth to speak. The boy looked worried for a moment but he could read lips well.

“I am The Listener. I am here to answer your prayers but be warned for you are the last,” He said slowly, in a voice like gravel. The boy simply nodded and waited for the horrid creature to continue.

“I give you speech, so you may give the world’s greatest lectures. I give you hearing, so you may listen to the people after me. Lastly, I give you touch, so you may feel the softness and roughness of every surface.” The Listener said. Slowly the boy could make noises before forming small words. He could hear the ragged breathing of The Listener. He could feel the floor beneath him.

“Now, live a good life but, like I said, you are the last so prepare yourself young one,” The Listener murmured as he melted into the shadows. The boy did not heed this warning fore he was only a child, he was too excited because of what had happened. He yelled out happily and all the nuns rushed in, cheering to god.

~~(Many Years Later)~~

The boy had gotten married and had two wonderful children. He was now lying on his bed, his wife dead and children with their own lives. 90 years old, today. He look at the ceiling peacefully because he knew he would soon be in heaven with the great god above. He was wrong. 80 years ago today he sealed his fate, unknowingly. The ragged breathing started from under the bed and soon got louder.

He was never found, but you could see fallen skin pieces everywhere and a horrible stench that would kill your nose followed. They burnt the house and forbid any talk of the boy and anything about his troubles.

So, if you ever hear ragged breathing and smell a petrifying smell… I wouldn’t answer if I were you, fore the boy is waiting for you so he can pass on.

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