CRAPPYPASTA

Jack was sitting alone, on a dirty couch. His mother was asleep, and her snoring felt like torture to him-he saw it as another reason to hate her. His hate wasn’t unjustified, his mother had hit him and his dad, often leaving thick scars, and she seemed to like it. But now, he was too strong (at 16 and 6″1″), so his mother hadn’t hit him in a handfull of years, but the scars still flared. His dad had left a week ago; Jack didn’t blame him, but he took his mother to blame, and the scars she had cut drove him to hatred.

He was hungry; he hadn’t eaten dinner yet, even though it was 11:00. His mother couldn’t cook, nor did she even try, but Jack was a great cook, taking after his dad. His dad had usually cooked with him, and Jack wanted to own a restaurant, like his dad. But the times they cooked together weren’t always good memories; his mother always started a fight about his dad’s dolphin tattoo, and how it would poison her food. Jack wished she would have been poisoned. Jack had the same tattoo on his arm; you couldn’t mistake it: a blue siphon with a chef’s hat. He had never shown it to his mother, because she would probably have freaked and cut it off. He was making his dad’s favorite: cucumber salad.

He needed a knife; he couldn’t just karate chop his way through the vegetables. He reached for the biggest blade and thought of his mother:
“She never cooked but she used this on me.”
Feeling the blade, he realized it was blunt and wouldn’t hurt her enough. He reached for the bread knife. He knew he could hold her still while she felt the pain he had endured, the pain he thought she deserved. It was long, serrated, and strangely, it felt wonderful to his touch- it felt like joy and he smiled.

He wasn’t hungry for salad anymore, but for revenge. He moved slowly towards the end of the hall, he could almost imagine her dead body. Her door was slightly open, as always. He pushed the door, and almost fainted.

He hadn’t smelled something like this since when whiskers had dragged a rat in the house, and his mother had killed whiskers. He shivered at the smell but remembered his goal. He marched forward, his mind blank. He tripped on something soft and crunchy, and dropped his knife. He felt for it, and grasped a hand. He pulled the swollen and purple mass towards the door, to take a look. It was a man, with a tattoo on his arm, you couldn’t mistake it: a blue dolphin with a chef’s hat.

That night, a woman and a man were found murdered, and the prime suspect had killed himself.

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Thomas Nelson never liked school, besides the fact he was very popular, and a lot of girls wanted to be his new girlfriend each week. He enjoyed to make fun of the nerds at school, getting a lot of publicity, and not even caring what the thought, or what their life was. In fact, two people committed suicide because of his doings. Their names were Kendal Ralphs and Calvin Stewart. Kendal was slightly overweight and suffered with type two diabetes, having acne on her chin and big glasses, but the zits were mostly blackheads. She was a loner, which only enjoyed company of minor people. Calvin suffered with leukemia, and had dirty blonde hair.
They were both superior with electronics. Kendal enjoyed making flash animations, while Calvin enjoyed writing literature. Kendal was great at acting and singing, while Kevin was good with producing tunes on certain music websites. They both liked each other, too.
Thomas Nelson popped into the picture as soon as he went to Cambridge Middle School. He went into the computer room with his friends, to spot the two creating an animation of a teenage boy and girl lying in a field. Thomas noticed that Kendal was holding her priceless tablet in her lap. He snatched it from her and smashed it into the ground. “That’s what you get, fat-fuck,” He snickered as tears rolled down her face. All of his friends were laughing behind him.
“Don’t say that about her,” Calvin warned, standing up.
“Your loss. Heck, you might even just live a few more weeks with that leukemia, baldie.”
“Shut the hell up.”
Kendal said standing up. She wiped the tears from her face and punched the boy in the nose, making him plummet to the ground with a thud. He stood back up, his nose bleeding.
“I’ll kill you!” He yelled, chasing the two out of the class and out of school with anyone even noticing. Cambridge was known for crappy protection.
The two managed to escape and go to Calvin’s house. They both were worried with shock. All Everyone else knows is that they swallowed pills and had an overdose in the bathtub.

Thomas left the school, knowing he might get caught for the blame.

His knew school was called Barrett Middle School, being in eighth grade now. He had popularity, and everything I said before. He had the crushes, and enjoyed his day. He went to class, letting the bragging seep into his pores. He opened the door and sat down; three minutes after the bell rang.
“Mr. Nelson, you are late again.” His teacher said, handing him a detention. “See me tomorrow at lunch, please.”
He sighed and sat down. He smelled fresh meat; fresh meat as seeing an attractive girl walk to the front of the class. His mouth watered as he saw her cleavage and ass.
“My name is Helen Peters; I’m new here.”
Thomas stared at her blue eyes and golden hair, and freckles all around.
“Someone in the class; would anyone volunteer to show Helen around school?”
Everyone raised their hand. “Can I pick?” Helen sad, her voice melting Thomas’s heart.
I bet you know who she picked, huh?
Thomas led her through the halls and cafeteria for what seemed like hour for them. Helen laughed and nodded as Thomas talked, telling him all about her life.
“I hate a pet poodle at home, and her name’s Tootsie! I love to dance, and look up Facebook!” she giggled, looking down at Thomas’s crotch.
After they went back into the class, Helen slipped a piece of paper at Thomas’s grasp. It was a phone number. It also said, “Meet me by the park, 8:15”.
After school, Thomas ran home and found the coziest shirt he could find, and sprayed some of his father’s cologne. It smelled strong, burning his eyes as he heard his computer. “YOU HAVE MAIL.” The screen said, showing the message. Thomas clicked it, staring at the message hard.
It was a picture of a dead man, screaming his last words of pain, but Thomas closed it in frustration. He knew it was spam, and all he wanted to do was go to the park. He ran outside, getting ready for his adventure.

“You came!” Helen giggled, clapping her hands together.
Thomas scratched his head. “What do you want to do?”
“Silly, come follow me,” Helen said, walking towards the trees.
Thomas followed her through until he could see nothing. “Hello?” He asked, piercing his eyes.
“Hello, Thomas.”
The voice wasn’t Helen. It was a man’s voice.
“Helen? Where are you?” He asked, seeing a light. Helen was in front of him. Holding a knife. “Right here.”
He watched as she stabbed in into his chest, falling to the ground. The last thing he saw was Helen ripping her face off, showing Kendal’s true form.

Credit To – Maison Bray

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When I was younger I was what you would call the “average” boy. I had friends, not many but just enough to make me well…average. I never really cared for many of the things that everybody was into. Most things that pertained to “swag” or “gucci” never really interested me, and I always found them very stupid or redundant. I lived in a small town during a boring time. We had our share of old stories that had been around the town for generations and generations. For some reason it always seemed like these stories may have seemed less real the more time went on, and the more we got older. Many of the stories that I heard around the town I always believed to be true when I was younger. That was usually because my friends were never really that nice, but at the same time they were what you would have expected a 13 year old’s friends to be like. We never really cared for authority and mostly did what we usually did. We made youtube videos thinking we were cool and showed all the newcomers or “noobs” as I liked to call them; all the places where theses stories had taken place. My apologies, I usually begin to ramble and stray from my ideas. I remember one story…it usually left me…terrified.
It began with these boys going to into the woods of the park of our town and ended with their return never happening except for one that ended going insane from receiving a single message constantly, and by seeing the images of his “dead” friends. I never believed it for a moment. It took place at the town park called Hershfield, or as we liked to call it; “Hersh.” In the story the boys went to the woods and went deep enough to see this diving board that was meant to be part of an old pool which was now a river. The pool was the site of a death. Not a suicide, no, but more of an accident that was just meant to happen. It was of this girl that went onto the diving board, and when she jumped into the pool her hair got caught on the board. She drowned…her head just below the line where the water was at its height. Hearing the story for the first time made me always ask “Where was everyone else? Why didn’t they help her? Where were they all?” But regardless to the amount of questions I asked and to the amount of worry that I always stressed upon them; we went to see the site anyways.
As we entered the park we rode our bikes through the benches and the weeds we found the trail that had been walked, and ridden long before our time. However there was something off about the look of the trail. Just the entrance, the trees around it seemed twisted and the bark of all of them had been spray painted in languages that I could never even wish to understand, and the wind just added to the eerie feel that would bring a child to tears at just the sight. It bothered me, but my friends well…they were careless. Being young, I always listened to my parents and actually weighed the consequences of my situations. Although being with my friends I didn’t want to be “that guy” that would ruin the day, and all the “fun” we were looking forward to. Not listening to the only thing that could really tell me right from wrong, I ventured on anyways. The trail was somewhat long but never really took long considering we were on our bikes. I screamed forward and told everyone to stop…I felt uneasy and I wanted to turn back. I only got the response of being called a pansy, and just replied laughing saying I was only joking. The orange in the sky had indicated that day was ending, and that night would soon be coming.
I looked up to the sky for the longest time just waiting and watching for the sun to fall and the moon to meet my line of sight. However this ended when we all just suddenly stopped. It was so instant that I fell off my bike and groaned only to look up and find the diving board we had been searching for. We just stopped and stared with no words to fill the air in just awe that all the stories that we had heard were actually true. I got up and spit out the dirt that had filled my mouth and gullet after my pain filled fall. I walked over with nothing but stares and open mouths still filled with the thick air that smelled of woodland, and animal feces. When I stopped I was a mere five or so feet from the board. I just…stared…unmoving. My phone vibrated and when I looked I expected a text message from beyond the grave, but no, it had been my mother just writing “here.” I assumed she meant that she was going here to pick me up from the park, but I had never called her for a ride mostly because I had my bike. I could just ride home, why would she be here to pick me up?
I never realized that when I had turned around to get my bike and leave that my friends were gone. Nothing but their bikes lay on the ground with no tracks, no marks of running, no marks of a single movement. I thought “Where did they go?” Being me I thought it was a joke and shouted “Okay guys, come out I know you are just trying to scare me!” To be truly honest I was. I was scared out of my wits and didn’t even care to grab my bike; I just began to run home. It seemed like it only took a few minutes but I reached my home within an hour. Dinner was almost ready but I didn’t care I just ran straight upstairs. When a few hours passed and I had been fed, my day naturally gave way to sleep; I was out like a light. I awoke in the night but the only time that ever happened was to use the bathroom, but there was something different about that night that made me walk over to my window and just look down at the street. At the point where my yard met the street I saw a small cluster of figures. After my groggy, sleep-induced sight cleared I made the figures out to be my friends.
I found it strange that they just stood there and didn’t even bother to come to the door to at least tell me they were alive since they left me in the woods alone. I walked down to greet them, but when I met the top of the stairs my phone vibrated in my pocket. Another text saying “Here.” It reminded me of one that I received from my mother today. Nonetheless I closed out of it not even looking at who it was from. Within seconds I received another, again saying “Here.” So I stopped to actually check who it from, but before I could my phone stopped for it was receiving another text. Except this time there was a multitude of them all coming in at once. I stopped and looked at each one. After looking I stopped and just stared at each text. They all read “Here.” Each one featuring the 4 letters that spelt the simple word. I shouted “What does it mean? Where are they all from? Who are they all from?!” I looked back at the texts…the names…every different text read a name of each friend that was with me that day. Each friend that disappeared, each friend that was standing outside my house, they all just decided to send me the same text over, and over, and over again.
I dropped to the ground in fear and just wept in the fetal position. My phone lit up with the notification that indicated a picture was being received. When the loading bar finished the device vibrated once more. I was scared to open the message fearing what it may or may not show me, but I did it anyways so the fear could just go away, and I could maybe be at peace for the night. There on the phone was a blank image there was just…nothing. It was blank not even a black screen just a white screen with nothing on it. I stared at the screen with a puzzled look on my face, and as I did I stood and began to walk back to my room. However when I met the doorway of my room I looked up from the message to find the only thing that could drop my mind into insanity.
There in the room stood the same cluster of…friends that had been standing on my lawn just moments ago. On the wall just behind them all read the message that had been repeated throughout the day…here.

Credit To – EmperorModo

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Windows 99

This is not a story. This is simply an explanation.

My name is Joe kaserinski, and I am a former employee of the windows corporation. I say former; I was permanently removed from their employ on September 7th 1999.

This was following an incident in their corporate headquarters, at Redmond.

I was involved in a team coordinating the live testing of a newly coded version of windows 98. Due to the secrecy of the project, we jokingly codenamed the project windows 99.9. This version of windows would go on to form the base plate for many of the next versions of windows, right up to 2007. Some destination files are hidden inside the operating systems of your computer right now, provided you are using windows, which are mistakenly called windows 99.9. You can find them if you look hard enough.

I was sitting in the mundane jungle of the second floor of Redmond headquarters, tracing the shadows of raindrops down the thick panes of glass, when I got the call. It was a call that would change my life. The phone insistently beeped at my dry ears until I yanked it off the hook and put the receiver to my pasty cheek.

The sound of rattling breathing echoed down the crackly line, and I waited for the rasping sound of speech to scrape my ear drums patiently.

“Hello?” An uncertain voice cawed out, from the phone head.

“Hello, Windows live testing section. How can I help?” I tried to sound as cheery as I could, despite my boredom.

“Hello, it Mike Carroll, I’m a tester for windows…” There was a thump, and a ruffle of papers from down the phone “…Windows 99.9″

“What is the nature of your call?” I spat down the line through gritted teeth.

“I’m experiencing some problems with the operating system.”

“What nature of problems?” We had done a training seminar on talking to customers recently, so I was pretty good at it.

“The welcome screen is upside down, and I’m getting a bunch of…strange error messages.” He laughed down the phone. With the wind howling outside, and rain smattering against the glass, it sounded a little forced, and more importantly, nervous.

“I’ll be happy send someone round to take a look.” Once again lying through my teeth; that someone was me, and I was most certainly not happy to go round and take a look.

The dark swirling puddles crashed around the mud guard of my van, as I pulled up into the dingy suburban street that Mike Carroll made residence on. The houses looked dark and empty, sitting dilapidated in the shadows. I strolled up the street, looking for the brass number seven nailed to the peeling paint and rotting wood of a door that would tell me I was in the right place.

After stalking through the rain for a good minute, I saw the sign I was looking for. The house was an old brick pile, looking worse for wear against the furious might of the storm. Water ran out of the gutters that were jammed full on sodden leaf mulch, pouring onto the concrete path in rivulets that I deftly sidestepped as I approached the door. As I got closer, I came to a cold realization. The door was slightly ajar, and flapping gently in the wind, letting the thick droplets of water stain the threadbare carpet inside. There were no lights on either, which caused a lump to knaw at the base of my stomach; a growing pit of dread that was sucking at the bottom of my cerebellum.

Pushing open the door with a creak, I took a step inside.

“Hello? Mr. Carroll” Fear took hold of me. This was just like some shitty horror movie, and I didn’t like it.

“In here!” A friendly voice split the silence in two from elsewhere in the house, clearly the same man as one the phone.

“Your front door is wide open Mr. Carroll” No response came from above, so I gently closed the door, and started to mount the dilapidated flight of stairs.

Thirteen steps of creaking later, I reached a shabby landing. Here a bare bulb light was fleeting illuminating a pair of dark wooden doors, and a third smaller door further down the landing to my left. I uncertainly started towards the first door, when the cheery voice of Mr. Carroll beckoned me into the furthest one instead.

“In here!”

I strode across the squeaky floorboards, and pushed at the door. A pasty light was washed across the sagging bookshelves of the office. A dark lump rose from the carpet, shrouded by shadow. As I took another step in, bile rose in my stomach. I saw that the lump was the comatose body of Mr. Carroll. The bright light was coming from the computer screen, which was completely white, and set as bright as it could go. It scathed the retinas just to look at it. I panicked, and dropped to my knees to feel a pulse on the body. It was stone cold to the touch, and clearly no longer alive. Along it’s face was a horrific burn mark, skin sizzled like bacon, popped and cracked into a brown sinewy mass. I jumped back immediately, brain racing to find an explanation for what was happening. Nothing came. He had clearly been dead for hours, how could he possibly have made that phone call, let alone called out to me just a few seconds ago.

In futility, I turned to the computer, clicking at the mouse while shading my delicate eyes from the unbearable light. Finally, I got a result. The bright light disappeared, and was replaced by the welcome screen. Sure enough, it was upside down, exactly as the caller had described. My heart skipped a beat, and color drained from my face when I looked closer at the upside down screen

66’6 was what I saw. The number of evil.

Maybe it was a coincidence. That was the most likely explanation. Just a coincidence. My heartbeat slowed down, and I continued my crusade for answers. The welcome screen was replaced with something else. it was the desktop, but it was running a program i had never seen before. In the corner, I saw it was labeled “IN_HERE.MP3″. Gulping, I hit a button labeled in bland text ‘play file’

“In here!” The cheery voice of Joe rang out across the room, emanating from the tinny speakers of the computer. I blinked in disbelief. Panic was closing on my heart, my lungs, my muscles, but I was determined not to let it take me.

“Oh God…” I whispered almost to myself, fear rising in my tight chest. What if someone had forced Mr. Carroll to record that then killed him. They could easily have got me up there my simply playing that every time I shouted something up to him. Could they still be in the room?

My panic was interrupted by the error message sound booming from the computer. I turned and saw a message box on the screen. It read:

‘File: Mike_121.zip is corrupted, and has had to close. All data related to file has been removed.’

I clicked around, but nothing further came for a good few seconds. Suddenly, another message arose on the screen.

‘File: Joe_616.zip created. Directory not found’

Joe. My name. Could this all simply be a coincidence still? The corpse on the floor implied otherwise.

‘File: ESCAPE. Zip is corrupted, and has had to close’

I felt my chest tighten at this message. I felt like I needed to leave, I needed to leave now.

The screen flickered to black, then to white again. The same bright, pulsing white as before, except this time it was brighter. It spread across my vision, closing in from all sides. I felt my skin begin to heat up. A sharp buzzing was emanating from the computer. The glow consumed my entire field of vision, no matter how much i tried to turn away. My skin began to boil. It peeled off, and spread out into a vapor. My mind felt like it would crack, the glowing flooding every crevice of my darkest thoughts, every memory floating away into the pure light. The beautiful light. My body dissolved into the glow.

So beautiful, so warm, so peaceful. Nothing bad could happen to me here. Sleep was closing onto my weary frame, senses dulling, and eyes closing. Becoming aware of a whispering near my left ear, I twitched and swatted at the air, not wanting anything to disturb my rest. Barely listening to what the whispering was saying, I just heard snachets of the voice occasionally crackling across my consciousness.

“Are you…” Followed by unintelligible words

“…He doesn’t want to know…”

“…I am now your…”

“…I will control…”

“…inside…”

“…God now…”

“…Soon…Soon…”

The very last bit of my mind not devoured by the hungry light was panicking. The last bastion of awareness would only hold out for a matter seconds if something wasn’t done. Sensing this fear, I began to violently thrash out at this prison of light, limbs contorting in futility, trying to find my way out of the ever-present golden light.

Thump. I felt myself crash down to the bottom of the stairs, my bizarre fit over. The light was still clawing at the corners of my vision, but it was rapidly being placed by the dingy hallway of Mr. Carroll’s house, door still flapping in the furious wind. My stomach clenched as I looked down at my body. My clothes had been torn away, and I was covered in hundreds of tiny lacerations, like needle pricks, all across my body. They did not draw blood, but instead itched like a nest of ants crawling around on my skin. Vomiting, my thick green bile poured onto the wraith of the carpet. Barefoot, I ran out of the house, out of shear terror, and sprinted down the road exposed towards my van.

I swallowed in relief when I reached it. Still fully naked and covered in wounds, I ducked inside, fleeing from that thing. The thing inside the computer. My breathing began to settle, and I swallowed, and turned the key in the ignition. As the van coughed into a reassuring rumble of life, I looked back at the house where it resided. With no little apprehension, I saw it was being licked from within by bright tongues of flame, a huge flood of smoke billowed into the dark sky, the fire burning bright against the storm. As soon I turned the corner in my van, I was passed by a fire department vehicle, all lights and blaring sirens.

After a nerve shredding 23 minutes of driving, I finally pulled up in the parking lot of my apartment building. I sprinted across the soaked tarmac, and up the litter strewn concrete steps that took me to my floor. Fortunately, I didn’t see another soul on the way in, and I breathed a massive sigh of relief when I pushed open my door and sprawled down onto the sofa.

As I was pulling on some closed, my mind raced with plans. What could I do? That thing. That thing. It needed to be destroyed, I saw that now. When the seemingly innocent code of windows 99.9 had been typed out, some kind of entity had been created, or perhaps released. It was inside all the computers with windows 99.9 on. Fortunately, that wasn’t that many. We had an office of about 32 back at the Microsoft headquarters, and 16 testers situated around Washington State. With Mr. Carroll’s computer destroyed in the fire, which left only 15.

As I was trying to swallow what had happened to me, I absent mindedly switched on the TV. It was set to the local news channel, and I found some comfort in the familiar face of the anchor.

“…A bizarre raft of arson attacks has struck Washington State today, with a total of 16 homes catching ablaze in what the police say appears to be a coordinated attack. 3 people have been killed in the fires, while 7 remain in critical condition. One of this brutal rampage’s victims was just minutes ago identified as computer programmer Mike Carroll. Police on the scene say the blaze started on the first floor of the house, possibly in the bed room or office, but no word yet as to the cause of these strange but viscous attacks. Police are searching for a man seen leaving the scene of in a white Ford Transit, identified as witnesses as Joe Kaserinski…”

This caught my attention. They were looking for me. Shit. It was strange seeing my face plastered on the screen like a common criminal. There would be no going back after this, my ordinary life was over. How long before they came here? It would be minutes, at most. I couldn’t let them stop me, interfere with my mission. I had to kill that thing, that entity, before it was to late.

Then it came to me in a flash, a bright blinding bullet of inspiration straight to my brain. The central network server at the windows office. If I could destroy that, then all the windows 99.9 computers would be wiped out the next time someone connected to the server. My ponderings was interrupted by a fearsome knock on the door. They were here.

“Open the door Mr. Kaserinski!”

I hesitated. If I let them take me into custody now, I would be too late. When I had been in the light, I heard the word soon repeated over and over. If I didn’t stop it now, it might be too late. The knocking stopped, and was replaced with a ferocious thump. So desperate to stop my mission, the police were battering in the door. Well I wouldn’t let them. I would do my duty. I pulled open the sash window in the bathroom, and dropped down into the alley between mine and the next buildings. The alley was a tight fit, and I had to squeeze past a rat infested skip to reach the open air of the parking lot. I threw a smirk at the police cordon as a passed it down the street, the fools couldn’t stop me from committing my holy duty; I had God on my side to defeat the beast within the machine.

It took me thirty minutes to walk to the Microsoft headquarters, but when I got there it was a relatively simple matter of using my employee key code to open the back door. Everyone but security and the cleaners would have left by now, and they wouldn’t have seen the news yet, so I was safe. I passed up a flight of stairs, and into one of the main offices. The central network server was in the next office along. Muttering a hello to the cleaner, I pushed open the door, and jogged eagerly towards the terminal situated next to the massive server bank, and logged on. After the windows 99.9 files were booted up, I opened the main file. A message flashed up. It was a JPG file of a skull; a goats skull. Below it read:

‘I am Lucifer the fallen, the blood of the tyrants is on my hands, the army of the devourer shall rise from the pit, and make war unto God.”

The screen started to flash, black and white, extremely quickly. I looked away, not wanting to hurt my eyes. A sound file of a male voice screaming loudly, as if in rage, played out of the rooms surround sound speakers, while I covered my ears. The screen cut to the bright white from earlier, and was quickly joined by all the other monitors in the room. They merged into a single mass of light, as the roomed seemed to bend forcing my vision around. I ran straight and true and with all my might, for the door. Self preservation instinct kicking in. But I felt my feet fall away from the ground, up wards. I was running in the air, caught in the grasp of an invisible beast. My limbs were torn back behind me, and the glowing light once again engulfed me.

“You have sinned against me Joseph.” The voice called mockingly.

“Fuck you!” I shouted, trying to sound as brave as possible.

“You must be punished for your sins.”

I saw the speaker emerge from the light. It was the image of a goats skull, made entirely of lines of code projected in front of me.

“You released me from the pit, but now you must suffer in it yourself” It continued sinisterly.

“No…” I whispered hoarsely, my mind quickly fading into the void of light.

“Soon, Joseph, I will be released onto this earth, and I shall make an army, and rise upon God.”

I said nothing, cold in the knowledge the end was near for me.

“Soon”

I breathed out a final sigh, as I felt all the bones in my body twist and snap, tearing at my skin.

An almighty roar from behind me threw me forwards; it was the shockwave of an unholy explosion in the server room. The light flashed off, as all the computers instantly went dead, and I fell to the floor in the burnt ashes. The entity of code flickered forms, first the goat’s skull, then a tall winged man, a child with deer antlers fused to it’s skull, and finally a snake suspended in the air.

“I am the SERPENT!” It roared finally into my already battered eardrums, before flickering away.

I was left on the floor, burnt, and completely paralyzed except for my left arm and hand.

I thought that day that the evil was over, but every time I see a windows computer, I become sure that lurking deep within the code, is a sliver of the entity, a sliver of pure evil, and I’m sure it is willing to do anything to get out…

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Something is in that bug…
That sound had always gotten on my nerves. It gets on most people’s nerves. It is that buzzing of that moth flying around my bedroom light. Somehow it gets under my skin so much. On this particularly Saturday evening, as I was reclining and catching up on the latest game in the NCAA tournament, it was as annoying as if the whole stadium had been filled with people spitting out of vuvuzelas.
I switched on the light and went into the kitchen to fetch the fly swatter. My housekeeper, Helen, a short, old, white-haired woman always left it there. But before I could grab my good blue plastic old weapon of mass fly destruction, I heard it.
The buzzing had changed. It had grown deeper and repetitive. It had gone from a monotonous drone to a steady, pulsing beat, almost like African drums of war.
Being a musician, my perfectly toned ear easily picked up to sounds like these, so I shrugged off the change. After all, what does it matter how a fly sounds, as long as I swat it? I grabbed the fly swatter and marched back into the living room. I turned on the lights and looked around for the little devil.
It was there, on the armchair.
Stealthily, I snuck to the side of the chair. I readied my arm, and SMACK!
The fly was dead.
I went back to watching the game. My favorite team was winning, so I was feeling good. Soon it was half time. I went into the kitchen to refill my bowl of chips. Then, the buzzing returned.
The fly had brought its cousins.
This time, the droning note emanating from the nuisance’s mouth was higher. It landed on the rim of my bowl. Annoyed, I raised the swatter, but in the reflection across the bowl’s surface my eye caught something that sent a strange chill down my spine.
The fly’s eyes were a dark black, as if they were only hollow sockets.
Nevertheless, I brought the swatter down, refilled my chips, and went back to watch the game.
By the middle of the second half, my team was winning so much that I began to get a little bored. Most of all, however, I needed to take a bathroom break. That was when I heard the third fly.
I heard a buzzing downstairs in the basement. Now, my basement isn’t the cleanest place. A few summers ago, I had had a rat colony and, unfortunately, since then, I think I had probably left a few survivors. But it turned out that I wouldn’t have to worry about the rats…
I began to take a few steps down the stairs all the while hearing the buzzing of that annoying fly. The air around me began to grow cold. A nasty smell reached my nose. Then something brushed my leg. Suddenly, the buzzing grew louder and multiplied.
“Stop it!” I screamed.
Then it suddenly cut off.
I tripped and fell down the remaining 5 stairs.
There was a long silence. I recovered myself and began to walk back towards the stairs. Then, the fly landed on my shoulder.
I love you, it said. I don’t want you to die.
At this point, I was about to call the mental helpline. I was being talked to by a fly.
But you have to.
“Leave me alone!” I screamed.
I wish I could, it said. But then, the buzzing began to grow again.
It was compelling me. My mind began to wander. I stumbled about the basement in extreme annoyance and finally came upon the washing machine. I opened the lid.
The body of Helen was stuffed inside. Her white hair fell over a wrinkled face. In her left hand, she still clenched a bottle of detergent. She had the same black eyes as the flies. A rancid smell filled the room, and I was overtaken by a feeling of light swiftness.
I fainted.
I awoke to the sound of a detention cell door being opened.
“Mr. Jamison, you have been convicted of the first degree murder of Helen Kernes. Anything you say can and will be used against you.” The police officer walked away.
The fly landed on my shoulder.
I’m not done with you, It said.

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I am a regular average boy. A college student. And I live with my family and goes home to the house as early as I can as soon as school’s finished. And every day I cannot leave without making sure that I have my cellphone with me. I regularly call my parents and friends with it. I lend it to my friends and classmates anytime they would like to call or text someone.
One day, I left my phone in my desk at school intentionally since I do it every time and none had any intention of stealing it for it’s a budget phone which means it still has the keypad and does not have a touch screen and is only capable of calling and texting. Not very long, I came back from the other classroom with my friend to lend my phone again. He gave it back to me as soon as he’s finished using it. The phone suddenly rang and it showed a number I’m not familiar with so I gave it back to him. I was shocked when he said that he also does not know whose number is it. So I have no choice but to answer for maybe it’s someone I know. I said hello but I can’t hear anyone reply. All I can hear is a sound of a baby crying and I think is a nursery song being played on the background. After hearing the same thing for almost 5 minutes, I ended the call. I immediately asked my classmate if he ever knew some relative of him who has a baby within their family. He said he doesn’t have and asked me who called so I told him. He told me maybe it just a wrong call so I went with that in mind too.
I got home in the afternoon and as always I’m the only person in the house for both of my parents are at work. I played video games and have done my homework and am so bored. And it was almost 6:00 in the evening. I remembered the strange call again and started to look at the number and try to think if it is ever familiar with me for I might have just forgotten whose it is. Then unfortunately I accidentally called the number. I tried to cancel it, but I can’t. So I just go with it because of curiosity rushing down on me. It rang for quite a few seconds and then I started to hear a clock ticking. I listen to it expecting someone would come to answer it already. But then the clock stopped and I started to hear a baby crying again. It gets louder and louder. I started to have chills and Goosebumps. But even though, I still continue to listen. Then I suddenly hear a grown man’s voice trying to shut the baby up by humming. Then I was so afraid to go on because the man might answer and I don’t know what to say so I ended it. I breathed heavily after the call and have been relieved for what I hear is just so strange to be heard for no one is answering but the sounds of the baby and now the grown man. Because of this I opened the television hoping to find a show that would cheer me up. But then as soon as I turn the volume up to be audible, I heard someone’s voice. I thought it was my dad so I went to the front door to look. But there’s no one out there. I started to be very scared. I get back to my couch to try to find a show that hopefully would defeat the feeling I have. And as soon as I found one, I turned up the volume. I heard the voice again. I ignored it and continued watching. But out of curiosity, I turned the volume down to clearly hear even though I’m hesitating to. At first I can really say that the voice is like my dad’s. And I can hear it making sounds of like trying to shut someone up, saying something like, “sssstttt!!!” which I think came from my room upstairs. I can’t handle my curiosity anymore so I turned the television off and started to climb up to my room. I was frightened when the voice stopped for quite some time after I turned off the television. I continue to go up. Step by step I listen to any possible sounds after that. Then as I were to reach the final step, I suddenly hear a baby crying from my room again. I started to laugh while having some tears coming out my eyes. I feel different. I feel hopeless. I feel very much alone. But even though I pushed through. I hold the door knob and started to twist to open it slowly. I still hear a cry. I pushed the door slowly and I can hear that it really came from the inside. Then I was so shocked to see a baby in a crib in my room. My bed and stuff are not there. I started to walk slowly to the crib. The place is so dark that I can’t see anything but the crib. It sways side to side very slow. I come closer and closer and as I am getting close all I can see is a dark silhouette figure of the baby, now softly laughing. A voice then I heard just right beside me. “Isn’t she beautiful?” I looked at my side seeing a devilish figure of a man so thin and dirty. I ran so fast out of my room down the stairs. My heart beats so fast that it’s like I think I’m going to die. And as I go downstairs, I see another dark figure beside my side table which is where my phone is on. It is a dark female figure. I froze on the staircase as I stare at the figure. It reached my phone and started to move its shoulders as if it’s laughing. The lights all went off and got back. The figure was not there anymore. Then I immediately walked to my phone. I was shocked to see a message in it saying, “THANK YOU FOR LETTING ME USE IT”.

Credit To – chestervargas
Credit Link – http://www.facebook.com/iamchestervargas

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The girl with the red lips.

Everything about her was perfect.
The way she walked,
The way she fluttered her gorgeous lashes,
Those swaying hips.
But the most hypnotic thing about her,
Were those red lips.

When she laughed,
I frowned.
For when she laughed,
Those beautiful red lips were no more.
Her figure was impeccable.
But when she ate,
I felt sad.
For she only smudged her lips further.

I shouldn’t have been scared for this woman,
But what would happen to those lips
When she went home that night.
If she went home that night.
For around a beauty like her I could not control myself.

I had always been a charmer,
But never had I worked this hard.
This kiss would’ve been phenomenal.
But the kill was better.

As she lay in a pool of her blood,
As red as her lips,
I felt no remorse.
The deed was done, and forevermore,
She is MY girl with the red lips.

A/N follow up too the girl with the green eyes.
Credit To – Molly E

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