CRAPPYPASTA

For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…


November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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At My Window

My friends will describe me as the “weird” one. A sad truth if nothing else. I guess they go by the fact that I am (and have been) fascinated by two pretty normal things, normal for me at least. Death and Time. I guess because of these “slight” obsessions of mine, I have attracted some strange things in my life. Like around when I was 13 or so; when I was just beginning to become fond of such dark things; I had my first real encounter with something strange. It involves an occurring series of dreams, and the events taking place immediately upon waking from one of them.

I lived in a small country community. Not a middle of nowhere place by any means, but far enough away from the city to be considered “the country”. We had neighbors and lived off of a paved road yeah, but it was at least 15 to 20 minutes to the nearest store. I was living with my mom at the time, my father was out of the picture at this point. It stands to say I was a pretty lonely child, with only one child of the neighbor’s I could really consider a friend. We lived in a small mobile home, with a large old forest surrounding most of the rest of the area that wasn’t inhabited.

There was a small string of animal deaths sweeping the small community. Some dogs, cats, and even small livestock, chickens and such. We were no strangers to feral dogs and coyotes causing problems, but never anything like this. Normally it was a chicken here or a cat there. Nothing this frequent. Even though the “attacks” would only seem to occur after the sun waned the adults of our little community seemed to be on edge more and more. Constantly keeping an eye on any of the children outside playing, waiting for the bus, or just doing outside chores.

A short time after these animal attacks began I started having a strange and down right unnerving series of dreams. A large, skinny, humanoid creature would post itself on the trailer hitch right outside of my window. Peering in at me unblinking at me. While the image of such a being posted outside of my window was unnerving to say the least. The thing had bright yellow glowing eyes that would seem to set my soul itself aflame. I often awoke from these dreams feeling really hot and unable to move out of sheer terror.

I told my mother about the nightmares plaguing me at the time, however she just wrote them off as too much sugar before bed. I figured she was right so I cut down on desert after diner. The dreams kept coming though, night after night. I turned to my friend for comfort. We will call him by his preferred pseudonym Ace. All Ace could offer me was an ear to listen, and a small piece of information that proved to be a very bad thing forthcoming.

Apparently on a night where he had gone to sleep way to early, and awoken in the same fashion. He noticed a large shadowy figure racing into the woods that were a few hundred yards from my house. It was a moonless night, and there was a large field separating our homes from one another. So he couldn’t ascertain too much from what he saw. That was enough for me though.

The next night that hellish dream was to occur, I was going to face what chilled me to the bone. I wasn’t able to eat too much for the next couple days. I was constantly on edge, and my mother was beginning to worry about me. Never the less I was prepared. I went on about my regular routine. Until it happened. I laid down finally thinking it was over since I hadn’t had one of those dreams in a few days. Soon after entering the abyss of sleep, I began to feel that familiar feeling of uneasiness and burning.

I woke with a start. Ready to confront this figment of my imagination. I jumped up and faced my window, prepared to laugh it all off and have things go back to normal. There it was. Staring at me. Just as in my nightmare. The moon shining in the sky highlighting it’s sickly disposition. The outline of a bone thin creature, hunched over and peering in through my window. The pane of glass fogged up, with little glimmering white shines of teeth dancing behind the condensation. It seemed to be bearing some what of a snarl, and then those eyes. Those glowing eyes. They seemed to burn a hole through me. I couldn’t even muster a whimper, I was entranced in fear as every thought drained from my mind.

The creature slowly cocked it’s head to one side, and raised one hand resting it on the pane of glass separating us. It’s nails were long, and looked like small knives made of bone. It took one finger and raked it against the glass. Making a long and sharp screech resounding into my empty head. After that I blacked out. I can’t recall the events afterwards. When I came to my alarm was going off in my ear, I had a headache worse than any I can recall to this day. I figured it was all just another nightmare, so I rushed to get ready for school for I was running late.

The day went on normal my headache quailed itself, and everything was fine. When I got off the bus I decided to walk with Ace over to his home so we could play some Killzone multi-player. We were walking past my trailer, when I heard a faded screech similar to my dream the previous night. I looked towards my home, then froze dead in my tracks. On the window leading outside from my room, there was a long rugged scratch on the pane of glass.
Credit To – Ryan Lanier

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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The Man in the Woods

I live in a small town near Belt, Montana, that is surrounded by woods. A lot of younger kids had been telling the adults and older kids of the man in the woods. He would come out and play but only when there were no adults around. Parents thought it was just something they all made up until one day a little girl went missing. They asked all the kids in town what had happened, but all they would say was that the man had taken her to his house to play. They asked what this man looked like, and they just smiled and shook their heads saying it was a secret and the man said to never tell anyone. The police looked for the little girl for months but never found anything. Parents kept their kids close for a few months and when nothing else happened, everyone calmed down and things went back to normal.

Just a few weeks ago my little sister and brother were playing in our backyard by a line of trees. I happened to glance out the window and saw a terrifying man standing just inside the line of trees. He was about 7 feet tall and was really skinny. His fingers were inhumanly long with long nails that he ran through my little sister’s hair. His eyes were completely black and his mouth was all wrong. It was too wide and it just gave his face a sinister look. I screamed and his head snapped up. My insides turned ice cold as his eyes bored into me and I was frozen with fear. It seemed like we stayed like this for endless minutes but looking back it had to be only a few seconds. This terrifying creature quickly turned to the woods and began to run/scramble away. He ran interminably on two legs, then on all fours, almost monkey-like, but for some reason it was chilling to watch. I ran outside to my siblings to make sure they were okay. They were fine they said, but they were mad that I made the “man” run away. I shivered and told them that was no “man” and forbade them to play with him anymore and to never go near him again. I told my mom as soon as she got home and she told me to go lie down. I could hear her hushed conversation on the phone that night with the police chief, something like “he’s back again.” But that couldn’t be right, could it?

A few weeks went by and the children mentioned that the man in the woods was playing with them again. Each time I heard him mentioned, my body would lock up with the memory of the terrifying man. I began to fear for every child in my small town.
One night I woke up in cold sweat, fear gripping my heart. I wasn’t sure what had woken me and I lay in bed staring at my ceiling. Then I heard it. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. Something was rapping on my bedroom window. My second story window. My insides twisted and my heart began to race. Every part of my brain was screaming not to turn my head and look. But it was like a rope was tied to me and pulling my head to the side. There in my window frame was the man. His too wide mouth spread in a grin exposing glowing white dagger-like teeth. His hand was splayed out against the glass and his filthy nails were grating against it. I screamed and pulled the covers over my head. My mom rushed into the room but I knew that the thing had already disappeared.

From then on every little noise made me anxious. Every shadow held the monster waiting for me. Then one day my little sister didn’t come home. Or my brother. Everyone was frantically searching for them, I most of all. I knew, deep inside, that the “man” was responsible. I told the police chief to gather up the men and guns and to follow me. I knew they had to have gone into the woods with the man. I had my camera with me because I had just left my photography class when I was told they were missing. I used the flash to guide me through the ever-darkening forest. We searched for what seemed like hours and found no sign of either of them. Just when we were starting to lose hope, we heard an inhuman shriek a few yards to our right. I raced toward the noise terrified about what I was going to find. I heard men yelling for me and telling me to wait but I couldn’t. Didn’t they understand that those were my siblings? I rounded a large boulder and heard an awful cracking sound. I had stumbled unto the monster. He was eating bones and flesh. Mixed in the bloody mass of flesh was my sister’s coat. I gasped and the monster snapped his head up. I must have held my camera up because all of the sudden the flash went off blinding it. It shrieked again and raised his hand. I was frozen on the spot, my mind screaming for me to run. The monster quickly recovered and in two quick bounds it was upon me. It took its claws and slashed across my torso. I fell to the ground screaming. I could feel his fingers-his claws- go inside my stomach tearing at my flesh, ripping me apart. The pain was nothing like I had ever experienced before.

The next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital. Bandages were wrapped around me. Days had passed; my mom told me that one of the men had found me but not the “man.” My little sister had been pronounced dead, but my brother had never been found. They had looked at my camera and seen the picture, but many people couldn’t believe that what was on there was real.

I have been home for a few weeks now, but at night I swear I can still hear him tapping on my window. I don’t go outside anymore, but I stay on my computer looking for anything that mentions the “man” that was in the woods, warning anyone I can about how evil he is and to stay away from him. I hope you listen. Protect your children and watch out for the man.

Credit To – MauseHorrorgirl

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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16 Psyche

Since the dawn of our consciousness, man and creature alike have wondered of our origin. God and Evolution both attempt to give the answer, but no one seems to fully grasp the question. Where did humans and animals begin?

In the creation period of our solar system, Earth was hit by a massive space object believed to be the size of Mars. This impact put Earth of a string of changes that ended with it being hospitable. When lizards came to great size and evolves, another great object struck Earth. This ended the reptile rule of Earth, but left the mammals. The mammals evolved into us.

Earth has a long lost relative. This is the hand of fate. The molten core of Earth is often said to be a hollow, but magma filled space. In comes 16 Psyche. The solid iron core is that of a proto-planet, as Earth was when it was first struck. It awaits right outside Mars, as if watching us. In the void between the red dust planet and the gas orb, this predator sits. The free lurker is able to move with the room, bound by space, not gravitational gravity.

Ancient men wrote of aliens called the Anunnaki, a reptilian humanoid race from a long lost planet of our solar system; who came to grant knowledge, and also to rule over us. More advanced, they helped our ancient brethren grow beyond primal limits. Why would they do this, and introduce a new threat to themselves?

Earth was never struck in the dawn. An object left our core, leaving the hollow for magma to fill. The reptilian blood of the Anunnaki began the age of the lizards, and the tyrant lizards ruled the Earth. Reptilian blood to reptilian blood. The object returned to begin a new age. Reptile blood to end reptile blood. The mammals grew to rule. The great lizards rose us to our own minds. Or so we were thought to believe.

This is your fabled Nibru. This is your cataclysmic event. This is the dawn and the dusk. The object waits between the void of the red dust planet and the gas orb, as if hunting us. Waiting for a move. Your brethren wish to return to you, intentions unknown.

16 Psyche
Credit To – ShawnHowellsCP
Credit Link – http://creepypasta.wikia.com/wiki/User:ShawnHowellsCP

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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Woods Machine

Okay, guys. Here’s my paranormal experience.

It was 7th grade and I was camping with my friend, Blake, and his family. We hadn’t known each other that long and he only invited me because he didn’t have many other friends, having just moved. Anyways, we went camping at this cabin that his parents’ friends let us borrow. It was me, Blake, his parents, his sister, and some of his extended family. His parents had brought their horses in a trailer as they had planned on riding them along the trails while the kids (me, Blake, and his sister) hung back at the cabin.

Now, I had never been camping before, but I had wanted to for a long time so just going and being out in the wilderness was amazing to me. I don’t entirely know how far away from the nearest town we were, but it was far enough away that the situation could easily be used in a B horror movie: Not a single soul around aside from our party.

For the first day (really, just the afternoon and night since the drive took so long), we were just getting settled in. Blake was talking about the cool shit we could do, how we could explore the woods and everything. Me, I wanted to set some shit on fire. So that’s what we did later that night. Started a bonfire, got some food, and just watched the flames, talking and throwing random junk in. Fun fact: A coke can, when burned, slowly turns grey and then when you poke it, it turns to dust. Probably not good for your lungs to breath burning garbage though…

Anyway, Blake was really eager to start hiking or walking around the lake, but his parents said it was too dark. Hah, bitches, you think you can contain two moronic 7th graders? After we were sent to bed while the adults stayed up drinking around the fire, we got pretty bored and restless. Blake just kept insisting we sneak away right then, but I, not being just quite as dumb and priding myself in not getting caught when I do stupid shit, insisted we wait for them to fall asleep.

“No, Blake, they’ll come back and see we’re gone. We have to wait.”
And then we hear “Wait for what?” – His sister. Older than him, and at that obnoxious age where she thinks it’s cool to not want to do anything and ruin anything that might be fun.
“Ah, nothing. We’re just talking about how we have to wait until tomorrow before we can go hiking.” (I’m such a smooth motherfucker.)
“That’s not what you were saying earlier, when you were talking about how you guys were going to sneak out.” (Maybe I’m not.) Luckily, and to my surprise, she doesn’t tell his parents. In fact, she insists that the three of us go together. Blake and I figure she must be as bored as we are. So, we wait for them to go to sleep and/or pass out in the main room of the cabin, grab a few flashlights, and head out. We were wandering in the woods for maybe fifteen minutes before it dawned on us that walking aimlessly in the dark is not only about as boring as staying in the cabin, but also a pretty dumb fucking idea if you don’t want to get lost.

I mention that we should really head back, to which I am met with Blake and his sister both agreeing, but walking in separate directions. “What are you doing?” – They don’t know which way we fucking came from. We had made multiple turns and bends around different objects and we were genuinely lost in the woods. We sat down on a fallen tree to try and figure out which way we needed to go, but the entire time his sister isn’t taking it seriously. She’s picking at blades of grass and rolling her eyes while Blake and I decide on a route. Finally, after many scoffs and a good amount of bitching about “our dumb idea” we start going.

Along the way, Blake snaps branches and saplings things like that to let us know where we’ve been. After half an hour we start seeing the broken saplings and sticks and start to really worry as we had evidently gone in a circle. His sister is still being a dumbass, going “Oh no! Have we seen this one before?” and snapping another twig and making other dumb jokes. About an hour later, she finally realizes that she’s as fucked as we are and shuts her mouth.
“What’s that light?” Blake points to something a ways in the distance. We get excited and start running towards it, thinking somebody noticed we were gone and went looking for us. As we near the light, it comes to my mind that if they were looking for us, we would have heard them shouting in the distance. It is then that I notice that the light emitted isn’t a circle, like from a flashlight – It’s a square.

It was a square of white and blue light, like a computer screen inlaid into a rockface. Now, as I said before, we were in the middle of nowhere. Aside from the cabin and the horse trails miles from our camping site, there wasn’t any sort of man-made structure. And here was this thing that, to me, looked like an ATM in the woods. I forgot the anxiety of being lost for a moment and wanted to go check it out. Blake was just as curious, but of course his sister wasn’t.

I walked up to the screen to see what it said, if anything. When I got close enough, I saw weird characters that I hadn’t seen before. Maybe a bit like sanskrit, if you know what that looks like. At the time, I just knew it wasn’t English and that it was really weird. Since then, I’ve actually recognized some of the characters in various languages that I’ve seen in pictures online and in text books, but not exactly as they were on the screen. It’s like these were a bastardized mish-mash formed of different written languages or, perhaps more unsettling, the other way around.

Blake was about to touch the thing when we heard a loud buzzing in the air. At first, I thought it was the machine that had made the noise and Blake had been electrocuted, but that wasn’t the case. The sound was coming from above us and beyond the rockface. It was so loud, I could feel it in my teeth. All my hairs stood on end and my head started to ache. Blake’s sister shrieked. Having watched my fair share of scifi movies, I knew to tail it the fuck out of there. I was running with Blake right behind me for – I don’t know how long. Just as we were going to stop to catch out breaths, we noticed two things: One, that we were now in sight of the cabin. Two, that Blake’s sister wasn’t with us.

I just didn’t know what to do. I felt terrible for leaving her behind, but at the same time there was no way in hell I was going back out into the woods with whatever the hell was out there. Blake and I settled on watching the treeline (with a fair distance separating us from that horrid darkness) and waiting for her to come back. We had planned on calling out to her so she could find her way easier, but both of us were too scared of attracting the attention of Blake’s parents and, of course, of the thing in the woods. Instead, we shone our flashlights for a while until we got too scared to do even that.

I don’t know how long it was, but eventually a figure peaked through the darkness and out into the open where we stood. Blake’s sister was bitching at us about how we ran off, seeming a little too calm about the situation. When Blake asked her why she didn’t run with us, she replied “Oh, I’m sorry, am I supposed to know exactly when you two are going to spaz out for no reason and leave me behind in the woods?”
“What are you talking about? You were scared too. What the hell was that thing?” I asked her, half-expecting an explanation due to her calmness. I didn’t get one. She insisted that there was nothing there and we just bolted away in a random spot in the woods. But she screamed. I know I heard her scream, it was almost as bad as the electronic buzzing sound.

Tired and scared and frustrated, we went to sleep. In the morning, while his parents were out riding horses, Blake and I went out to find the machine again. We were feeling pretty confident in the light of day and we had brought his phone along to take pictures of it. It was a long time before we found it again. At one point we found some turtle shells and were going to head back, giving up and forfeiting the experience to become nothing more than a strange story. But we didn’t quite give up when we should have. Just a little more walking and we found it. Blake took a photo of it as it came into view, but neither of us wanted to get much closer.

Blake was trying to get a good zoomed shot of the screen when a bird cawing made us realize how silent and still the woods had become. It was early morning in a forest and there were no sounds. At all. No birds or insects or any of the shit that should be making noise at a time like that. I was about to mention it, but Blake had realized it as I did so my voice just choked off, making a quiet squeak that sounded much louder in the surrounding silence. I didn’t have time to be embarrassed. As the squeak was just exiting my ears after echoing around in my mind, my head felt like it was being crushed. The buzzing sound was back and much louder than the night before. Let me tell you: daylight gives you a kind of false confidence that evaporates in an instant.

We stumbled over ourselves and started running back. Blake almost dropped his phone, but was able to catch it as he jumped over a rock. When we got back to the cabin, we realized what a shitty shot Blake had captured, but we were determined to let the rest of the trip continue without incident. Near the end of the week we were actually able to start enjoying ourselves again, but we made absolute sure we didn’t head back to the woods another time.

I wish there was more I could say about it, but that’s all there is. I don’t know what the woods machine was, nor what made the sound. You could come up with any sort of story to fill in the gaps. I know I have done so many times. The most intriguing part of it, for me, were those weird symbols and how familiar they have become as I notice parts of them in various scripts and languages. It’s probably just a trick of the mind, but i can’t help but wonder.

woodsmachine-1

Credit To – Greevon

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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Bissett Road Rehab Center

Hey, hey! My name is Jeff. Four years ago in Nova Scotia, Canada I worked for a, now defunct, security company called Reliant (it has since been acquired by Paladin Security). During my time there we had a site in the very north end of Dartmouth called the Bissett Road Rehab Center.
This site was fun for a lot of the guards simply because it was a dead site. The rehab center had been shut down for many, many years; condemned due to the use of asbestos in the walls. We had a tiny little shack by the front gate that housed a television on a plywood shelf. This was our source of entertainment for our shifts. Our only job was to patrol the perimeter of building twice an hour and tell anyone found on site to leave.
Due to the nature of the condemnation of the rehab center we, as guards, were explicitly forbidden from entering the building under any circumstances. The more loyal of the guards obeyed the rule without question, the rest of us wanted to see what this building was all about.
It would start out innocently enough with us reasoning
‘well we can’t tell if people are on the premises with a perimeter patrol. If they catch someone in the building on our watch it makes us look bad, so we’ll just do rounds of the first floor’ which turned into
‘well if they’re on the second floor and they’re being really quiet we’ll never know if someone is in there’ which finally turned into
‘well all the other guards are doing it so, why not?’
The rehab center was notorious around the rumour mills. Stories of hauntings by mistreated patients, unbelievably brutalized, and murdered people abounded. None of this was ever actually verified but I guess that’s to be expected from a government run mental health center. I heard all the rumours before I even stepped foot on the site, I’m not the kind of person to go onto a site blind, but I was a staunch skeptic.
When I first stepped foot onto the site I was doing an 08:00 – 20:00 (8 am – 8 pm) shift. I was there with two other guards (I was the trainee, we were only supposed to have two guards on site) and we spent the majority of the day discussing policy involving the site. They took me on rounds of the perimeter, showed me the different sections of the building, where people would try to sneak in, where they would likely be found camped, the usual ins and outs. I asked about the inside of the building and found I was stuck with two keeners. They told me never to go in the building and they never went in themselves.
My skepticism was well rewarded for the first bit. I’d been doing overnights at the rehab which was when many guards liked to grab their flashlights and head inside; under the guise of looking for trespassers of course. The rehab didn’t look much different at night. Everything was the same just darker.
“Well DUH!” I can hear you screaming at me.
That’s when things started to change… Sometime in November of 2010 a group of youngsters set fire to the gym. It wasn’t during my shift and I wasn’t scheduled to go in that day either. Two days later I came back to a very different rehab center.
The crumpled remains of the gym and the haphazardly standing wall brought something out, I really don’t know what. The on duty guards we came to replace that night seemed relieved to be getting out of there. They didn’t stick around for the 15 minutes of banter before their shift ended, they just asked us if we were good and took off to the driveway to wait for the gate to be locked at 20:00. Perhaps we would’ve been a little more cautious if the two we relieved were keeners, but they were well known slackers so this wasn’t all that surprising.
When 20:00 hit, I opted to take hourly rounds. I wanted to get inside and see what happened. The rehab had always been a run down looking place ever since I started there. It had torn walls, broken glass, long unlit corridors with rubble strewn all over the place, etcetera. This was all par for the course. Tonight everything seemed more malignant though. The emptiness was more pronounced, more foreboding. Even being the skeptic I was, I was not immune to the new atmosphere of the building. Even I was not blind to the change.
The first round was fine. Nothing extremely terrible happened. The building was a bit noisy what with structural integrity of the floors around the gym being compromised, creaking and settling was heard from that area. I didn’t want to get too close for fear of a collapse so I left the rec wing alone. As I walked through the building I felt the wind blowing a lot stronger inside but I chalked that up to a gaping hole in the building allowing the wind to travel more freely through it. Aside from sounds that weren’t there before the building seemed dormant.
I returned to the shack to find my partner watching a movie. He asked me what took so long (I hadn’t realized I’d spent 50 minutes on patrol scouring the building). I wasn’t really sure what to say. It seemed that anything I could tell him would sound like a cowardly cop-out so I shrugged and started writing my patrol report. He asked me if anything was wrong to which I assured him I was fine. He clarified was there anything wrong with the building or any trespassers so he could write out his report on the half-hourly log as well. ‘Not a thing, everything’s quiet’ and he filled out his log for the half hour before taking the next round.
As he walked around the side of the building I stared at the front entrance. This was no longer the fun adventure site that I loved so much, it was a monster slowly coming to after being ripped from it’s sleep by a fiery inferno. I didn’t see it that way back then though, I just thought to myself ‘something’s off here…’
The rest of the night went as smoothly as it could. We were both turned off of wandering around inside like we usually did on these nights and kept our *inside patrols* to standing near the safer entrances and shouting warnings to anyone inside that the walls are asbestos filled and prolonged exposure could have negative health ramifications. We became keeners for that night.
The next couple weeks brought about more changes to the site. Some of our graveyard regulars refused to work the rehab. It came down to the point where there were only four guards willing to work rehab overnights so we were taken down to one guard per shift at extra pay which eliminated another guard willing to work rehab overnight. With three of us left we went to a two on/four off schedule (work two overnights at rehab, then worked other shifts in our four days away from it).
Nothing official can be found in company reports, to do that we’d have to admit we went inside the building which would result in our immediate termination, but we exchanged stories amongst ourselves. The most common story among all of us was a door in the cafeteria that we hadn’t noticed before. It was an odd door that appeared to lead directly into a wall. The door’s placement was such that it looked like it should lead directly into the cafeteria wing’s corridor, but no doorway was present on the other side.
Near the end of January of 2011 contractor’s equipment was brought onto the site. The demolition of the building was beginning. At this point in time I decided to forego the illusion that none of us went into the building. I had to see what was behind that door before it got plowed down. I grabbed an axe from the contractor’s trailer and chopped through it. The wood was pretty flimsy, I probably could’ve kicked it in without the help of the axe.
The room was very small with just enough room for the long filing cabinet housed inside. The filing cabinet in question was pretty rusty, bringing the axe wasn’t a waste of time after all. I used the blade to get some separation between the drawers and the frame. The files inside were damp and stuck together easily. Everything was handwritten and detailed activities of the rehab center’s earlier years. Testing the effectiveness of psychoactive drugs on patients, results of electroshock therapy, something they called Sendep therapy, then there were the files of the individual patients and staff.
I took some horrible pictures of some of the files on a crummy LG flip phone then I put the files back and took a picture of the open door and the filing cabinet inside. I dropped my buddies a text sending the pictures and a brief description of what I’d done. I couldn’t wait for the replies.
The first one came about an hour before my shift ended. One of my buddies told me I had way too much time on my hands. I ‘lol’ed back and that was that. The second one came while I was sleeping for my second shift. I got it when I woke up, he said it wasn’t funny and if I kept screwing around during work hours he was going to have to report me to Chris (our boss). This one confused me. I sent a ‘???’ to him and left it at that. I was going to visit with him the next day anyway.
When we met to exchange stories again he was noticeably angry. He told me phone photoshoping was where he drew the line. It didn’t make sense so I just played dumb. I knew what I saw so there was no sense pressing the issue. This is where things get very confusing…
As we spoke it turned out he had the same idea that I had. He, too, broke through that door. Only he didn’t find a filing cabinet there… he found old scrubs with ID cards still attached. Some of them were bloody and ragged, some of them were burned or singed, some of them had holes and slits but each of them had an ID tag attached. He also had a picture of this scrubs pile on his blackberry. It didn’t make sense. If he had done that how was the door still standing when I broke into it two mornings ago? I looked at my phone and pulled up the pictures I took. Still there, still documents and a filing cabinet.
But wait… the name on the ID tag on the picture he took, it was clearly visible among the rest of it that just looked blurry. It was odd and out of place. I looked through my pictures again and one of the documents I took a shot of had the same name clearly visible while the rest of it just looked like pixilated mess. I asked him to bluetooth me the picture of the pile of scrubs. Now I had a picture of a pile of scrubs with the name Dr. Michael Eden clearly visible amongst a blurry blackberry curve background and a picture of a document containing Dr. Michael Eden’s name clearly visible among the pixilated static of a low resolution LG flip phone camera. I didn’t bother offering him the picture I took, he already had it from my text he assumed was fake.
When I got home I texted my other buddy and asked him if we could meet early tomorrow before he went in. I knew it was a lot to ask since he was pulling a 12 hour shift and it took him about two hours to commute one way. He reluctantly agreed under the condition that I support his coffee habit while we met. He looked like death warmed over, and I expected as much. He didn’t get to sleep easily, I suspected he’d had about three hours of sleep, if that, before coming here. He, understandably, wanted to get this meeting out of the way quickly and possibly salvage a short nap.
Before I got right into the thick of things I asked if he had any insight on that door in the cafeteria. Turns out he already broke in there too but what he found was shelves of cassette tapes and video reels. I asked if he had any evidence of this to which he placed a Sony Walkman on the table.
“Not yet, but I’m working on that.”
I was dumbstruck, my mind was going a hundred miles a minute. Do I show him the pictures of Dr. Michael Eden’s scrubs and document or do I wait for him to stumble upon the name? If I give it away he may deliberately look for it but if I don’t and he finds it anyway it could show a connection.
I made my decision, I wasn’t going to say anything. I thanked him, bought him a coffee for the road and went home. I was going to meet up with him again tomorrow anyway. I got home and googled “Dr. Michael Eden”. There were too many of them. I tried “Dr. Michael Eden Nova Scotia” again there were too many of them. I tried “Dr. Michael Eden Bissett Road Rehab Center” there were none matching the criteria I wanted. I knew what I had to do… I had to talk to my buddy again tomorrow and see if his evidence gathering turned up Dr. Michael Eden. I had to wait for my turn to visit the door again. I had to get Dr Michael Eden’s file… I had to go to bed.
I couldn’t sleep at all that night. I couldn’t shut my mind off. I couldn’t let it go. Do I do another google search? Do I text him to find out what’s going on? Do I taxi my way out there to witness his findings? I couldn’t sleep, that’s all I could think. I couldn’t sleep and Dr. Michael Eden was driving me mad.
Who was Dr. Michael Eden? Was he still around? I looked at the blurry scrubs again to see if I could tell what kind of condition they were in but no. It was too blurry. I looked at the document picture again to see if I could make out anything else. Of course not. I looked at the other documents which were all just grainy pixely mess. No clue, nothing. I looked at the filing cabinet itself to see if there was anything out of place. Nope, same grainy mess that everything else was. It didn’t make sense!
I must have burned myself out because sleep came suddenly and without warning.
I woke to the sun shining in my face and knocking at my door. It was my buddy. I looked around for my phone but I didn’t see it. He knocked again, so I figured I’d better go answer it. When I opened the door he looked disappointed. I invited him in and he flopped down on the sofa. I asked if he wanted coffee. He just shrugged the offer off. Something must have been severely bugging him.
“So, how’d the tapes sound?”
“Silent.” he replied.
Silent? Was there nothing on them? Before I could enquire he continued.
“The demolition crew started their work yesterday, the cafeteria was demolished. The door doesn’t exist anymore, dude.”
No! It couldn’t be! I still had my ace in the hole though, my phone! Maybe he’ll recognize the name from one of the tapes or reels!
“Hang on a sec, I’ll be right back.” I walked back into my bedroom and looked for my phone. I couldn’t find it anywhere.
“Hey!” I shouted, “Could you call my phone for me?”
“Sure but I don’t think it’s going to do any good.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“That’s why I came over here. I tried calling and it told me your phone was out of service or turned off.”
“Well call (name not displayed*), get him to send you the photo he took. Do you still have my first text?”
“Nope, my phone automatically deletes after 100 messages” He informed me.
“Get him to resend you my text.”
I searched every inch of my bedroom to find that phone to no avail.
“Got one of them!” He shouted at me. I ran out to the living room to see the picture of the scrubs pile but the name was no longer clear. It was blurred like everything else. Was I imagining the whole thing? Did it really happen?
“What about my text?” I asked.
“He said he deleted that right after he got it. He said you’re lucky he did because he was going to show it to Chris if he hadn’t.”
I was sunk. I had no proof, no backup, nothing. I told my buddy anyway, told him about the pictures on my phone. Told him about the name Dr. Michael Eden clearly visible in the pictures of the scrubs and one of the documents. I told him why I didn’t bring this up over coffee yesterday. I told him everything. He looked at me with disbelief plastered all over his face. He told me to lay off the creepy pasta (I didn’t know what that meant at the time).
“Go to sleep dude, it’ll do you some good.” He remarked as he left.

*names not displayed because these are people who may still work for the company. I no longer do. So, on the offchance that someone in management actually finds this, if you want to change my record from quit to terminated you can go right ahead.

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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The Hum

Before you read, I want you to ask yourself a question. If I said the words “Alien Encounter”, what sort of images pop into your mind? If the first thing that you think of is something along the lines of “Close Encounters of the Third Kind”, “Signs”, “Battle: Los Angeles”, “District 9″ or (heaven forbid) “Mars Needs Moms”, I’d like to be the first to inform you that actual, real-life encounters with aliens are the last thing you’d talk about at the dinner table. If that’s the kind of person you are, take a minute to let me demonstrate to you how terrifying of an experience an alien encounter really is. It’s not the kind of fear that makes you run and scream and hide, and it’s not the kind of fear that targets your basic animalistic instincts. It’s the kind of fear that over time, over a period of months and years, perverts and molests your psychology and sanity until you’re nothing but a broken antisocial wreck who lives off two hours of sleep a night with no concept of what it means to “live a normal life”. But first, let me address some problems that most people seem to have when understanding the whole phenomena.

It seems that whenever people talk about aliens, it’s always about the comical “little green men from outer space”, crop circles, Martians, or maybe that cute, loveable little E.T. from the movies. If you bring up U.F.O.’s, the response you’ll usually get from people is always something along the lines of “What? You mean like from outer space?” (no you idiot, from fucking Canada). The only people who ever take the idea seriously are either scientists (most of whom take them into very little consideration anyway), or some wackjob with tinfoil on his head who only uses them as a catalyst for why the U.S. government is evil and Queen Elizabeth is a reptilian. But then, I guess, there’s people like me.

It all started back when I was just a little kid.

Five, I think. I was incredibly fascinated with the whole concept of space aliens and starships and all that. Back then, it was things like Spock or Yoda that got me interested, but over time, my definition of what exactly a “space alien” was began to change. I gradually went from watching Star Wars and Star Trek to watching things like U.F.O. Files and Ancient Aliens. And subsequently, the images that popped in my mind upon hearing the word “alien” went from space battles and laser swords to real images of flying saucers and lights in the sky. Interestingly enough, the concept of an “abduction” never seemed to reach me until maybe five years later. When I was six, we moved houses.

That was when the nightmares started.

We had just moved into the new place after we left Temecula, CA for the coast, and we had moved over the summer, so we could avoid any school transfer issues my two sisters would have otherwise had to face. The house was two stories, overlooking the beach, and nestled right into the edge of a little cul-de-sac with maybe five other houses in it. Even though I was only six years-old at the time, and incapable of appreciating how any of that stuff had made it more expensive than other houses, the concept of a new home and a new city filled me with an unbearable sense of adventure and discovery, things which would capture the attention of any kid my age.

When I got my new room I was admittedly a bit underwhelmed. The thing was pretty small, with space enough for maybe a smaller medium-sized bed, some desks and a T.V. along the wall, and the sliding-door closet that had already been installed. Even though I was disappointed by the size of it, it was one of only two rooms out of the four in our house that overlooked the ocean, my older sisters getting the two that didn’t, and I was pressured into pretending I liked it. About a week in was when it all started.

It was after a long and uneventful day. I was taken away from playing my video games to be tucked into bed. Normal kids would have complained about the whole “bedtime” process, but as part of the whole advent of our moving, my parents had bought me a Tempur-Pedic mattress, the softest, best-quality mattress at the time, and the thing felt like a soft, fluffy, enchanted cloud when you lied down on it. Within just a few minutes of being tucked in, I closed my eyes, and I was sound asleep.

This was the first time it happened.

There I was, standing out in the middle of a forest clearing, surrounded by nothing but scaling trees painted against the dark blue canvas of the early morning sky. Across from me was an owl, sitting on its perch in a tree. For a moment I stood confused, looking over at it, almost as if I was expecting it to give me my answers. My balance was off, I noticed, I was nauseous, my heartbeat was rapid, my breathing was heavy, I couldn’t focus.

Then suddenly, a flash of light.

It was right in front of me. The massive eyes of the owl were taking up all of my vision. Its eyes, I couldn’t look away from them, I couldn’t move, I couldn’t scream or call for help. The only thing I could do was stand in shock as I was forced to gaze deep into the eyes of the winged predator glaring back at me, looming over me.
The eyes.

The next thing I remember was waking up in my own sunlight-filled room. I didn’t wake up in a quick jerk like you normally do from nightmares. I woke up calmly and peacefully, like the nightmare had never happened. Brushing it off, I sat up in my bed. The first thing that I noticed was a bloodstain on my bed, to the right of where my head would be, right next to my pillow. I immediately called for my mom in panic, but the second she told it must have just been a little nosebleed, everything went justly back to perfect order.

About three months later, however, the same thing happened. The same dream, the same process of waking up and seeing the bloodstain. This time I told myself what my mom had said, that it was just a nosebleed. I must have been too stupid at the time to start drawing a connection between the dream and the blood. Already having my excuse for an answer, I just carried on with the remainder of my day.

This same process went on for years. Sometimes it would be so much as ten months between dreams, sometimes just a week. They happened so infrequently and far apart that my naïve and underdeveloped brain never thought to put two and two together. God, was I stupid. Aside from the dreams, the next four years of my life were entirely normal. I went to elementary school, I hung out with my family, I played video games, all those sorts of things. For the most part, I was a perfectly normal kid.

Everything changed when I was ten.

It was over the summer, and at my age I had plenty of electronic reasons to be staying up late into the night. It wasn’t until after a good fourteen straight hours of video games that I finally decided to call it my bedtime. I snuggled gently into bed, under the blankets, just like any other night. Only something was different. I felt a sort of odd feeling of restlessness that night, almost as if for some reason I had to stay awake, like I had to be somewhere soon and I couldn’t go to bed. Against my efforts, I stayed awake in the dead silence of the wee hours of the morning, with only the light of the moon painting select parts of my room in a faint pale blue.

But then, looking out into the darkness of my room, a feeling came over me. The feeling of something being in your room with you. You don’t see it, or hear it, but you know it’s there. I turned over to face the side of my room where the door was, only to see, through the pale moonlight, that it had already been opened. Locking up, unable to move or breath or make a sound, I realised that something was out there in the darkness. I couldn’t prove it right away, but one thing was clear.

Something was in my room with me.

As my eyes adjusted, I began to make out the vague shape of a figure, just beyond the horizon of darkness. I could feel my heart beating faster the more the image came into view. Soon enough, through what little light I had, I could start to see detail towards the outline of its shape. Even in the moonlight I could tell it was a pale grey. But then, through all my fear and panic, I noted one minor detail on it, towards the outer edges of its face, in the middle of all that was running through my mind.

The eyes.

A hand suddenly emerged from the darkness, with thin, elongated fingers that branched off of it. Slowly, gradually, it came closer towards me. Finally, it rest itself on my upper arm, sitting gently on it, not clutching or grabbing in the slightest. It knew I couldn’t run away. Every part of me wanted to scream, to get up and run and slam open my parents’ door and cry and make it all go away, but be it out of fear or some sort of creation of this being, I couldn’t even control the movement of my own eyes.

Then, the flash of light.

And just like that, I was back in my bed. At first I was confused, shaking my head.

“Oh! It was a nightmare!” I finally told myself.

But then, when I cast my gaze back down to my pillow, it all became clear.
Credit To – Nigeria

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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Marrow

I’m not much for ghost stories. I even used to be scared of the character setup in scary movies. I’ve grown out of it by now, and I’ve even come to enjoy some scares now and again. But, I don’t actually hear many ghost stories, like the ones you tell at night around a campfire. Many of my friends are as easily scared as I once was, so I just don’t get the opportunity. Even when I do hear one, I know it’s just a bunch of made-up crap. It’s often cheesy, boring, and barely even gives me the chills. Ghost stories aren’t real, after all. Right? There is one story, however, that that I remember to this day, and I’m becoming more and more unsure of myself. I try to assure myself that it’s just a story, but fear has a way of snuffing out rational thought. I’ll explain as best as I can remember.

Back when I was in high school (a little over 4 years ago), a friend of mine (Kevin) decided to host a party, since his parents were out of town. It wasn’t anything special. There were only about twelve or so guests in total, and there wasn’t any drinking or anything like that. His parents had mounted cameras all around the house which they checked frequently, so he never could have gotten away with it if he tried. If there had been drinking, I probably wouldn’t be here telling you this. A booze-induced story wouldn’t worry me. As the party continued past about 11PM, someone thought it would be fun to tell ghost stories. Being one of the few chances I got, and since I had recently gained an interest in the paranormal, I eagerly joined. Everyone sat in a circle, and since it was Kevin’s party, he chose the storytellers.

After two ghost stories, he chose Randy. I didn’t know Randy. I don’t think he even went to the same school as the rest of us. He and I just had Kevin as a mutual friend. At first, Randy refused. I remember him having an odd expression on his face as he declined. I wasn’t sure what it was at the time, but looking back, it looked like a feeling of emptiness. It took a bit of convincing, courtesy of the other guests, but Randy finally agreed to tell us a story. Oddly enough, though, Randy made a request.

“If I tell this story, it can never leave this room,” he said. (Sorry, Randy)

We were all taken aback by this request, but Randy insisted we never tell a soul. We eventually agreed. Much to our dismay, he then proceeded to tell his story of the night he watched his mother and older brother die right in front of him.

Randy used to live in the rural part of Minnesota, which if I recall, was somewhere in Clay county. He lived in one of those lone houses you see on the freeway near the woods, but they aren’t on farms. Those houses are just, there, isolated from the rest of the world. In these places, there may be less than ten people for several miles, and the only other thing in sight is fields or trees. One summer night, when Randy was seven, he woke up at around three in the morning.

Apparently it was normal. He often woke up in the middle of the night due to the hot weather in the summer, since his family couldn’t afford to install air conditioning. All he had to do was get a glass of water to cool down and he could fall asleep again. He went to the kitchen and got his water, leaving all the lights off so he wouldn’t wake anyone up. He didn’t mind, he wasn’t afraid of the dark like his sister was, even though she was older than him. On his way back to his room, he happened to see something out of the corner of his eye. Whatever he saw, it was outside. He assumed it was just a wild animal, but he felt uneasy for some reason, so he decided to turn the porch light on to check.

It would just be a second. Hopefully the light wouldn’t wake his siblings, whom he shared a room with at the front of the house. He turned on the light. Standing in his front yard, he saw a woman in her twenties, covered in blood. She was skinny, almost starving, but she had numerous large boil-like growths, each as big as a baseball, all over her body. Some of these growths were sources of the blood. Her limbs seemed broken in several places, and she was wearing only a tattered t-shirt and ripped jeans. Even though she could barely stand, she didn’t move. She just stood there, facing the house. Randy was scared, but he knew she needed help. He woke up his older brother. His brother was a high school football player, so he was strong. But he wasn’t just a jock. He got better grades than anyone on his team. Randy assumed he would know what to do. They looked outside at the broken woman, who just stood there, struggling to stay on her feet. Randy’s little sister had also awoken, and was also looking at the woman outside.

“Is that lady okay?” she asked.

“Call Dad, I’ll go get Mom”, Randy’s brother told them. Randy’s father was apparently a police officer for a nearby town, and was working the night shift. Randy’s sister volunteered to call their father.

As Randy stayed in his room and watched from the window, he saw his mother and brother (who held a shotgun, looking around for someone who might have caused this woman’s injuries) approach the girl. His mother gasped in horror after seeing the woman, and rushed to apply first aid. Randy’s brother stayed close by. As Randy’s mother approached the woman, Randy saw the woman pull out what looked like a hunting knife. He didn’t have time to open the window to warn her. The woman lashed at Randy’s brother with unbelievable force, especially considering the shape she was in. Randy’s brother was just a little too close, and she slit his throat. He fell to the ground, holding his bleeding throat. Randy’s mother shrieked and turned to run, but she tripped. The woman turned, looking as if she might collapse, unable to hold herself up.

Randy’s mother backed up in a desperate crabwalk, eventually turning around and crawling on her hands and knees. She wasn’t fast enough. The woman tackled her, then stabbed Randy’s mother just below the ribs on her right side as Randy’s mother screamed in agony. The woman slowly stood up. Randy’s mother had stopped screaming, and could do nothing but whimper, tears streaming down her face. The woman dropped the knife, turned away, and fell forward to the ground. The large boils on her body started opening up, and several small creatures started crawling out of them. The creatures were each about the size of the growths they had emerged from. They were pitch-black, scraggly, and had bright red eyes.

The creatures, as quickly as they left the woman, crawled inside Randy’s mother through the stab wound. Once all the creatures were inside her, she slowly stood up, struggling to move and still crying. She picked up the girl’s knife, then grabbed Randy’s brother by the wrist. She looked at Randy through the window, forming the word “help” with her mouth, but no sound came out. She dragged Randy’s brother and the dead woman’s body away, escaping before Randy’s sister had finished her call with their dad.

Nobody was quite sure what to make of the incident, but officially it was described as a kidnapping. Randy never heard more than this until almost four years later. Randy’s dad had started drinking to deal with his growing depression, which didn’t go over well with his boss, the sheriff. When he was put on leave to deal with his problems and spend time with his family, he only drank more. Eventually, he was fired and forced to seek other employment. One night, after drinking heavily, tears streaming down his face, Randy’s father confessed to Randy details of the incident he had kept from him all those years.

The body of the woman who arrived at the house was found a couple days after the incident. She had been from a town several miles away, and had been missing for a few weeks, but the autopsy reported that she had only been dead for a few days. Randy believed that the creatures he saw had controlled her body from inside her while she was still alive. Most of her bones had been broken, and they were all completely drained of bone marrow. Randy’s brother wasn’t found until a month later, his corpse torn to shreds. His mother’s body was found two towns over a week after that, her body was in the same shape as the other woman’s.

Before Randy could say anything more, one of the guys at the party came from behind one of the girls to scare her. She screamed, causing most of the people in the room to jump a foot in the air. Suddenly realizing what had happened, everyone started laughing. Everyone except Randy. The room quickly fell silent as everyone looked to see that Randy had left without a word. Kevin rushed after him, and I followed. When we caught up to Randy, he was already a block away.

“Randy,” Kevin said, “What’s up with you? Was it the story? That’s not what actually happened right? Wasn’t it just a story?”

Randy just shook his head. “Just shut up and leave me alone. I’m going home.”

We tried to calm him down, but he just ignored us. We went back to the party, and I never saw Randy again. Everyone at the party didn’t seem fazed by the story, assuming it to just be a story. And who could blame them? It sounds ridiculous. About a year later, I saw Randy’s obituary in the paper. He was apparently dealing with depression and had committed suicide.

If I had any belief in his story before, it was gone now. It must have been fueled by some sort of delusion from his depression, or was perhaps a side effect of a medication he was taking. Randy’s father drank himself to death a few days later (the toll of losing most of his family must have been too much for him). I don’t know what happened to Randy’s sister.

Eight months later, I saw a report on the local news. The body of a hiker was found on a nearby nature trail. He had been missing for weeks, but had only recently died. I found myself hoping, praying, that my suspicions were just paranoia. I had dismissed the story, but now a creeping suspicion came back. That’s when they described the body as having numerous wounds, the same as Randy had described. This was apparently the second case in two months, but after a third, they stopped. Not much more about the story was covered. There was some further speculation, and a lot of rumors started going around. The more rumors I heard, the more I thought of Randy’s story. Was it true after all? Were those little demented monsters actually real?

One night last summer, I was on a walk with my girlfriend. She likes to take the scenic route, so we ended up walking through the woods. It wasn’t a deep forest or anything. It was just a small nature trail. While we were walking, talking, and laughing, I could have sworn I saw something out of the corner of my eye. Something, or should I say, many things, seemed to be looking at us. I pointed my flashlight at them, but the eyes disappeared. That’s when I truly began hoping my eyes were playing tricks on me.

I thought I saw someone lying in the shrubs, motionless. I became afraid and looked away, I wanted to say something, and even felt the urge to run, but I didn’t want to frighten my girlfriend. I didn’t want to know if what I saw was really there, and I began denying to myself that what I saw was real. Even so, I had to get out of there. I claimed I wasn’t feeling well, and we went home. I’m not sure what to think anymore. I have never seen the things Randy was talking about up close, but I’m still afraid of being alone. The woods now frighten me. I hope my eyes were playing tricks on me that night, but I still hate the idea of being alone somewhere, where nobody can hear me scream.

Credit To – Hallowed Stone

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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Just Another Virus

It all started as a regular, boring Saturday night. My neighbours were still partying well into Sunday morning and there was no way I was getting to sleep with all the commotion. “3:30 am” my clock display read. At this point I abandoned all hope of a proper rest and decided to get a cup of coffee and browse the internet.

I booted up my computer and checked my Gmail only to find that I had several unread pieces of mail. Nothing out of the ordinary, spam, replies to my comments and whatnot. I sighed and was just about to log out when one new piece of mail appeared. Now this was odd, it was a piece I’d already read with a new attachment. I decided to open it to see if I could figure out why it hadn’t registered as read… but when I tried, nothing seemed to happen. I swished my mouse around to see if my computer had screwed up but no, the cursor moved about the screen fine. Frustrated, I clicked multiple times on the link in my account until, for no seeming reason, my computer up and froze. The cursor wouldn’t budge. I sighed, sat back in my chair with my head in my hands as I waited for it to right itself. When it unfroze, I only saw that a file had been opened. In my guy, I knew immediately that it was a virus.

The virus caused my monitor to turn a frightening black. I tried to turn off my computer and even unplugged it but it refused to shut down. I feared for the life of my $2,000 machine and what damage may have been done. Suddenly, everything stopped and the computer let out what I swore was a grunt and then finally, shut off.

Windows booted up fine, all my files were there and everything worked. Even my Gmail lived! I hastily checked through my files to see if I could find that damned folder and sure enough, there it was. I tried to delete it but it just came back. I even had AVG scan my computer after that and nothing came up.

For the next few days everything ran smoothly. Then I noticed a strange process in my task manager. I tried to end it but it would always start again. I gave up and let it run, it seemed harmless enough. Then a second process appeared the next day. Again, I tried to end it but it wouldn’t stop. I had no choice but to leave it running.

Two weeks went by without any new processes appearing or strange occurrences. Until one day, I was writing a report on Ancient History and suddenly, I heard a soft but laboured breathing. I jumped from the sudden noise and listened closer. I went to check my processes once again. Could this have been a new one? No. Nothing had changed. Except this time I recognised one of the processes… It was my Webcam. It shouldn’t be on! After a hasty run to the garage, I found my father’s duct tape and ran as fast as I possibly could back to my computer and covered my Webcam in the stuff.

I disabled my microphone so whoever thought this was a funny prank couldn’t hear me and was about to get some food when I heard a low growl. Then an angered voice whispered, “I’m coming to get you!” I wasn’t sure whether I should be scared or not but one that was clear, I definitely became unsettled and made sure nothing was behind me or around me but what if it was just scare tactics? It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. Hell, it even sounded a little cheesy. And I knew just who’d try a ploy like this.

“Gonna try and scare me with those schoolyard tricks, sis?” My confident reprisal was met with silence.

“…Sis?” I tried once more… then it hit me. She hadn’t been home and wouldn’t be home for another two days!

I panicked as I began to connect the dots… If something had been watching and listening to me for two whole weeks then they could very well be on their way; they would have had a fix on my home address ages ago. Almost slipping as I rushed over to the house phone, I did the first thing that came to mind. I called my parents, who were away on holiday and told them stutteringly that I was going to lock up the house and ‘c-c-call the Police’. I didn’t even wait for a reply before I slammed the phone into the receiver and went to round up any scrap material I could find to create barricades in front of most doors and windows.

I didn’t bother with the second floor windows as they were quite high off the ground and I assumed a simple lock and two planks would be enough. When I went to call the Police however, all I heard was a dial tone. What could be causing this? I had only just called my parents and everything had been fine with the phone. My stomach dropped when I saw the phone line and noticed the cut straight through it. If this had happened between now and when I called my parents then… It was already inside… It had been inside for some time now… Why couldn’t I have called the Police first? Why did I choose their feelings over my safety?

I ran down the hall as fast as I could, trying to find the least barricaded first floor exit I could use. It hit me then and there that I had barely barricaded my second storey windows and would easily be able to jump out of them onto the moist dirt of the garden. I could escape and then call the Police from my neighbour’s house. I would’ve used my Cell Phone had I not left it at a friend’s place the night before. It was then I felt it. The Ice-cold breath of something behind me and before I knew what I was doing, I turned round to confront my intruder.

The eyes… I’ll never forget those insane, dark eyes cutting through me like daggers. I broke from its stare and ran as fast as I could to the window that overlooks my parents’ garden. I was going to get out of there. I grabbed the boards and gave them a great tug. Thank god for my terrible attempts at hammering in the nails. My heart sank when I was about to jump and noticed him again. This time, he was standing in the hallway. I turned around and felt those black eyes bore into me again but this time, it hurt. I had an intense pang of nausea and felt as if the world was going to collapse. My legs just wouldn’t move and I thought I was going to topple out of the window. He approached me and slowly lifted me up. I lost consciousness at that point.

Apparently my neighbours saw everything. I can’t remember hitting the ground but according to them I hurled myself out of the window and slammed into the concrete pathway. I remember the ambulance ride. It was there the whole time but no one could see it. He seemed to make everything around him colder. He was at the hospital as well. None of the doctors could see him standing in the corner but he was there.

I need to have someone around me at all times. I’m afraid to take my eyes off of him. If someone leaves, he’s going to move. I just know it. I’m glad that there is always a doctor in here 24/7 to check on me. The nurse arrived on time, just as always, sipping a coffee. She sat it down on a table and asked me how I felt. I gave a half-hearted “fine” as she filled in the boxes on my check-list.

Once she was done, the nurse passed me a little blue bottle I noticed was medication used in treating mental patients. As I read the label to myself, I noticed that I could see the heat of my breath, odd. The nurse reached back to her coffee and noticed it had started to freeze over. “How did… Look, I’m just going to reheat my coffee. I’ll be back in a second”, she said. I kept telling myself not to panic. She’ll be back in a second… She’ll be back in a second…

Credit To – Quark Bent, the second writer.

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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Do Not Go To This Grocery Store

There is a grocery store that you should never go to. I cannot remember where, and I cannot remember the name, but you will know it if you see it. It will take over your neighborhood, and you will likely go to it, if only to just try it out.

Its sterile, white environment makes it seem very clean. Overly clean, like workers have spent their entire servitude dousing the walls and floors in bleach. You cannot see the ceiling. You do not want to see the ceiling. You assume there is no ceiling, because the store, once inside, seems that immense.

Everything will seem fine for the most part as you shop, but only if you avoid the empty eyed stares of the workers. Dark circles line their eyes, sunken in and empty in their blackness. They won’t seem human. They aren’t human. However, they might have once been human.

As you shop, you’ll notice that the store has a much larger variety of foods than your average grocery, and you’ll likely splurge and buy some due to the unbeatable low prices. After you’re done, you’ll head to the checkout, where one of the empty eyed agents in white will ring up your purchases. You will find no gum or mints lining the shelves of last minute temptation items. Sitting in neat little rows will be small, baked delicacies, ranging from cookies to cake bites.

This is where you need to remain calm, and keep a clear head. Do not purchase the baked goods.

Let me say that again: do not purchase the baked goods.

If you sidestep the temptation to buy one of the mouthwatering little treats, you should be able to leave the store just fine, if only a little sad and regretful that you didn’t get a treat. This sadness will last for the rest of your life, but it is a proffered choice in comparison to the other.

If you did purchase the baked goods, do not panic. The empty eyed cashier will smile and ring up the purchases, though they will not bag them. They will tell you that you are supposed to bag them.

There won’t be any bags. No plastic bags or brown paper sacks will be at your disposal for taking home your groceries, only strange, otherworldly plants. If you touch the plant with your hands, it will snap to life and wrap around your hand and wrist, and it will take quite a bit of struggling to get yourself free. The expected method, which the cashier will explain only if you get your hand stuck, is to prod the plants with your purchases, and it will wrap them for you, then regrow itself after you remove your floral bag.

You will load the now wrapped items back into your grocery cart, and head to the exit.

Now, this is where it gets complicated. I do not know if it will be the same man, or a different worker entirely, but there will be someone jogging towards you and calling for you, saying you had left an item at the register.

Do not turn around. Do not acknowledge him in anyway. Do not stop walking until you are at your car, hopping in to drive away.

Especially do not turn around, walk towards him, and ask what you forgot.

I cannot guarantee that this will save you. You already gave in to get the baked goods, whether you actually purchased them or told the cashier to put them back, and there is no other guaranteed safe way out. This is only a hypothesis of how you might be able to get out alive.

However, I should warn you of what will happen if you do turn around and acknowledge him, if only to further deter you from doing so.

The man will stop, arms flat at his side, and empty eyes just staring into you. You will feel frightened. You will feel petrified. If you can tear your attention away from the man, you will hear the sound of rapid footsteps, of something running towards you at an inhuman speed. You will see a figure, crouched as it runs towards you, and the sight of it will make you turn and run.

It will not have a true face. Instead of a face, there will be a large, round black circle where the bridge of its nose should be. You will not be able to tell if it is a hole or just something attached by the seven white tendrils gripping tightly around its face.

It won’t matter how fast you can run. It won’t matter how much regret you feel at even coming into the store. It won’t matter how much you wish you had listened to me.

It will catch you.

You will turn to look at it, and the blackness of that single spot on its face will grow, getting bigger and bigger until it overtakes your field of vision. It will keep running, and you will feel it.

When you should’ve hit the doors, you will black out, and I cannot tell you what will happen to you from there.
Credit To – uncertainAuthor
Credit Link – random-world-yaoi.tumblr.com

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November 9, 2014
by derpbutt
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Silent Witnesses

When I was little, I used to have an irrational fear that I would turn and find disembodied eyes looking in the window at me when I was alone at night. It made a certain amount of sense when I found out others had this fear too. Perhaps it’s some vestige of our days in the wild, when lurking creatures just out of the reach of the fire’s light would send rays glinting from their slivered eyes, burning the green and the yellow and the red into some genetic memory. Or maybe they aren’t animals.

Maybe they’re windows to a soul that doesn’t exist, or to a malicious one. When you see them, they see you, and maybe they see you a little better. They have an advantage somehow, without any visible brain connected to them. We cannot hide our workings. They see all.

When I realized I believed in ghosts, I wondered if the wandering pair of eyes was a form that the deceased took. If perhaps they were prying busybodies in life or saw a great evil that tethered them to Earth in this distilled form–the tools of watching. But I rather think these roving seers and knowers somehow more haunting than ghosts. They speak no purpose, express no need. They watch in perfect silence.

In perfect silence.

The silence of their hidden minds, thoughts working in some foreign language of another dimension. One that swirls in whorling groans and croaking whistles like an aural smoke of hidden intention, making no noise for anyone to hear and bridging the gap to no other mind, yet all the same speaking their hideous internal monologue between the folds of space.

Omnipresent, never sleeping, born on the wind and descending to the depths of the sea where other hidden creatures live in the pitch darkness and have no voice with which to release the words of millenia of being.

Boring into the eyes of whoever glimpses it, a pair of orbs with blinding depth behind pinprick pupils, its bloodshot surfaces like a permanent lightning storm of blood and anger.

In perfect silence.

With singular bent they seek to take in, to absorb, to eat whatever subject they find with a fixed glare, robbing it of its peace forever.

Fallen from the seraphim, or cast aside by Argos, lurking in secret stories and sacred stories, diving into dead empty sockets and traveling the solar system.

Flitting between the trees in the wood, pecking the window.

Watching.
Credit To – Clayton

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