For those pastas that are smelling less than fresh…

August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

The Lookers

Before you continue reading, you need to understand that what I am about to write is real. This is neither a scam nor a joke. I wish it was. This is my desperate attempt to spread awareness of a potentially-catastrophic threat.

Even though the situation is dire indeed, if you are careful you will -probably- be fine. But you really need to pay attention and listen to what I have to tell you. Or else you will find yourself walking a thin line between life and death.

Hypnomantis is their official name. We call them the Lookers. Their appearance remains a mystery to us. Everyone who sees them dies and they cannot be recorded by cameras. They usually hunt at night, but there have been cases where they attack on broad daylight.

Interestingly enough, they only prey on individuals after they stalk them for months on end. Reports suggest that they stand close and observe a chosen individual, taking their time, before they attack. To do that, they need the individual to look at them. But he/she must himself/herself face them, as Lookers cannot move inside people’s line of sight.

Normally, they tap the individual on the shoulder when he is alone, or they run their fingers down his neck to catch his attention. But there have been cases where Lookers whisper and directly communicate with the individual to make him turn around and face them.

Don’t think that it is easy to avoid them. In one case, a guy has been tormented for months, refusing to give in. In the end, he snapped and looked behind him. He was never seen again. It is through him that we proved their existence.

You must be very careful -and lucky- though. When a Looker contacts you, in one way or another, he won’t let you go. He will hunt you down until you give in and look at him.

One last piece of warning: be careful when using hand-held mirrors, or any small reflective objects. Lookers, even though seemingly invisible, they seem to have a reflection. In many reports people went missing right after looking in small mirrors.

Understand that I am writing all this because I want to protect you. The Lookers have a weakness, which can be easily exploited. But I can’t write it here, in case there is one right behind you reading at the screen. So, I have a very simple puzzle for you. If you haven’t already noticed, I have hidden a secret message in this passage. Read the first letter in every paragraph. Good luck.

Credit To – LazyAnt

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

Quantum Experiments in Exceeding Light Speed

The stars are long gone but we still see their glow. A dull and empty thing at night. Not much at all next to the brightness of our sun. Those of us who flew away, I guess that’s all of us now, did and when we did the stars left, leaving only a hazy hand full of light, like a cataract over the eye. It’s all we could see, but still, we flew. And flew. And flew. It was an unprecedented success. The instruments all said so.

We were happy. That is…

One of us noticed odd readings as if the ground never got farther away.

No matter how hard we flew, we couldn’t escape it.

The instrument needed to be fixed, I know that. That was my job. Before. When things meant other things. When symbols had meaning. These symbols.

So we landed. And we landed in the hazy light, not able to find anything that we’d left. No organic matter was left. No building occupied. No noise in the woods. Trees breathe but you can only know it when they stop. The trees stood. Not moving. Not breathing. Perfect full leaves in bloom. But you couldn’t touch them. They were shades of trees, frightening somehow. And the shadows that seemed to dart…

That was just a thing your mind does, showing false images. I used to know the word.


We walked together at first. Touching, realizing nothing moved, nothing changed. The sun burned bright, tapered away into the haze again. There was no color in the sun rise, no color in the sun set.

And we soon realized those sun sets and sun rises are all exactly the same.

For however long we’ve been here.

We don’t die.

At first miraculous. Certain this would give us time to find a way out. A way away. A way home. A way anywhere.

And finally we hoped for a way to die. For how long?

I stopped keeping count (x increases without bound seems as accurate as anything) when the last of us went from two to one.

That was….

The last pair of anything, I guess.

I wish I could remember her name.

I wish I could remember mine.

We still don’t know what happened to the stars.

Credit To – Rachel Coffey
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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

The Thing

Names have been altered for the protection of identity. This is a true story. This is the story my experience in a house in Bun An Inbhir, County Donegal, Ireland.

Three weeks in a strangers house does not sound appealing, but I had signed up for this. My friend, Mari, and I set ourselves on a five hour bus journey to the other side of the country to a Summer college, to help us further develop our understanding of the Irish language. Sounds boring, I know, and many people are baffled as to why I spend five hundred quid on a holiday with a dull learning experience thrown in, but the stories I had heard made it seem amazing! It was the Gaeltacht, a little area called Bun An Inbhir.

My experience however, was far from pleasant. On the first night we met the family we would be spending these three weeks with, a nice old lady, named Maebha, with two sons and a daughter who were in their twenties. Her husband didn’t speak much. We then met the twelve strangers we would be roommates with, friendships were made and everything seemed completely fine.

Then one night Mari asked the four of us, sharing a room, if we could leave the light on. She pulled me aside and confided in me, “I have a weird feeling about this house.”, this was our fourth night here and I hadn’t experienced anything myself.

“What do you mean?” I asked her.

“Upstairs. The upstairs of this house just freaks me out. Can we leave the light on?” We all appeased with her and let it be.

The next night we came straight in from college to have our supper, I stayed downstairs for longer than usual with Mari and a few other girls. I went upstairs to my room to get something, but when I walked in, there were Anna and Jenny, cowered in the corner. Anna’s whole body was shaking as she sobbed, Jenny awkwardly comforting her.

“What’s happened?”

“Anna said a ghost touched her!” Jenny yelled. At this I frowned, Jenny was young, I would be so damn angry if they were making a fuss over nothing.

“Come on, Jenny, yeah right, you probably touched her.”

“No, no! I was at the other side of the room! I was sitting right here, Anna was at her bed when she ran over here!” I could see she was getting over excited.

“Are you okay, Anna?” I asked, unsure of what to do. She simply shook her head, tears running down her face, the only noise for a while was her sniffling and gasping for air. Mari entered and we called Maebha up to settle her down.

Maebha convinced Anna it was her imagination, that there’s no such thing as ghosts and that it was time for bed. Although, we all slept rather uneasy that night.

I think it was about two nights later, Mari, Gina and I decided when it was lights out we would stay up for a while and gossip. We were chatting away when we heard something in the hallway, we shut up straight away, with no desire to get caught. There were footsteps, pacing up and down the hallway. We didn’t dare open our mouths, glancing faces of confusion at each other.

The layout of the doors leading into our room meant the first door you went through enveloped you into a tight space, with that door behind you then, there is a door to your left, leading into the bathroom, and the door straight ahead, taking you into our room. This is important to picture when I explain what happened next, the footsteps became, so suddenly, much more aggressive, and they picked up the pace. Then, three of us could hear all three doors, open and close, open and close, open and close. As we were around the corner of the room, we could only see what was happening with our ears.

And swiftly, it all ended. I wanted to cry. Gina stood to look around the corner and frantically sat herself back down again on the bed with us, she put her head in her hands whispering, “Oh my God, Oh my God…”

“What? What’s wrong?”

“I closed that door. Now it’s wide open.”

Mari, Gina and I briefly commented on how terrifying it had been, from then on we slept with the light on. But we didn’t talk about it. I don’t know why, I myself didn’t want to anger anything that could possibly be in the house. One night while I was trying to sleep, a cold hand gently held mine, it startled me and I jumped up to see who was there but everyone was asleep.

Jenny began sleep walking, she had a strange small cupboard door by her bed. She took a liking to Mari for some reason. She would get up and walk over to Mari, poking her. When Mari woke up Jenny would be standing over her, wide eyed, her eyes unusual without her glasses. And she would say, “Come on Mari, let’s go.”

Mari of course, wouldn’t budge, “Where are we going?” she asked her.

“I need to show you something.”

Mari, terrified, didn’t want to go anywhere with this girl. “What is it?”

Jenny would then get angry at Mari, she would start shouting, and wake everyone. “THE THING! LET ME SHOW YOU THE THING!!”

After the third time she sleepwalked, Jenny woke up, crying, she said she was going home. I haven’t seen her since.

It was our last week at the Gaeltacht, we were all upstairs in the other girls room. Then, somehow, our conversation turned to the subject of ghosts. I could see right away Mari was uncomfortable. “Can we not talk about this?”, she pleaded.

Hetty, a bit like myself loved the paranormal, she wouldn’t shut up about it. I was so interested, I didn’t want to leave, like Mari was suggesting. And then Hetty said, “We should play with a Ouija board!”. That’s when I agreed to leave the room. I didn’t want to be a part of that.

The next morning, Mari and I came downstairs late for breakfast, Maebha was arguing with a number of the girls.

“I know you edited it. You’re not scaring me.”

They all protested, “We didn’t! How could we do that? It’s real, it’s real!”

Maebha wasn’t impressed, when she left, we asked what was going on but our questions were brushed off.
We got home and there was a priest at the house, blessing it. He blessed, four of the girls. Then we really pressed our questions.

Hetty showed us a video she had taken on her phone the night before, the video that had caused this commotion. It was of Amy and Edel messing around laughing, and then an orb appears. It was so unnatural, it started whirling around the room. The girls had showed Maebha the video and confessed to speaking of ghosts and demons.

Watching the video we were all huddled over her phone, and then, on the video, a face appeared in the mirror. A blueish, white, face, expressionless. I couldn’t hold in my scream. It was The Thing.

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

6085 Garner Road

My neighborhood is a simple neighborhood. I have lived here , in this same house my whole life. Around the time I had turned 18, my parents moved away, and left me the house. I have stayed because, well, there is nowhere better. Or so I thought. Never any break-ins, muggings, shootings, none of that. All of the people are very polite, and always eager to help you with anything. Just a quiet, and simple place to live.

Directly across the street from my house, sits an old abandoned house. 6085 Garner Road. Although, it has been abandoned for quite some time, you could never tell, just by looking at it. Lawn cut, not a weed to be seen, garden full of vibrantly coloured flowers. Shingles in perfect shape, no paint peeling anywhere on the house. The old place is obviously cared for, but nobody knows who in fact keeps it looking so stunningly perfect. I’ve always thought that maybe it was the old owners, although, I have never actually witnessed them doing anything to the place in years.

Before it’s abandonment, the house was owned by a peaceful looking elderly couple. Mr, and Mrs. White. They did not live there, they merely rented it out to people. The Whites were the picture perfect elderly couple. Always smiling, and holding hands. Mr. White was a chubby man, about 78 years old, if I had to guess. Bald head, plagued with age spots. Bushy, white as snow eyebrows. Glasses with an orange frame, and thick lenses. Always dressed in his best jet black, tailored suit. Mrs. White, on the other hand, was the opposite. Although, the two do look to be about the same age, Mrs. White has a full head of blonde hair (I suspect it may be a wig.) No glasses. Maybe contacts? I’m not sure. Thin as a skeleton. Usually dressed in jeans, and a t-shirt. They are so cheery all the time, that in a weird way, that I cannot explain, it is kind of off putting, kind of creepy. I would be gazing out my living room window, when they would drive up to see that all was well at their house, and, just the way that Mr. White would turn his head and smile at me from a distance would send shivers up my spine.

Over the course of my lifetime, I have seen many families come and go in that house. There is nothing strange about that, being that it is a rental. What is strange, however was the tenant’s behaviour after living in that house. Each family that moved out, became completely silent. They would pack their things in the U-Haul, and never say a word. The locals would come to say their goodbyes, and get no response, just a black stare back at them. It has fascinated me ever since I witnessed it for the first time, when I was about 8 years old. As a 24 year old man, it was finally time for me to conduct my own investigation.

When I thought it was dark enough outside to creep on over there, without being spotted, I grabbed my flashlight, and made my way across the street. There was no way I was going to try to gain access through the front door, too many prying eyes from the neighbors. So I opened the gate to the backyard as quietly as I could. You know, I could swear that doors and gates creak much louder when you do not want them to. I pushed the gate open, grinding my teeth, as it squealed like a pig, hoping none of the surrounding houses could hear. Once that nerve racking experience was over, I made my way through the freshly cut lawn to the back door. To my surprise, it wasn’t locked.

As nice as the outside is, I cannot say the same about the inside. The place was absolutely trashed, with smashed glass all over the floor, obscene messages scrawled across the walls in what appears to be red spray paint, dirty mattresses everywhere, a few syringes. If I didn’t know better, I’d say that homeless people once stayed here, but they were gone by the time I was there. As soon as I closed the door behind me, I was hit with a piercingly cold wind. I blew it off as being the wind from the closing door, and proceeded into the first room on my right, the kitchen.

I was met with a smell of mould. You cannot see it, but you know it is there. I looked around the room. “Pretty basic looking kitchen” I thought. 70’s style tile flooring, wooden cabinets, darkly stained. A large solid oak table, a few chairs scattered around the room. A fridge, an oven. There were a couple things that did peak my interest, however. Above the oven, on the wall, was a big, flaming pentagram, drawn, again, in red spray paint. I dismissed it as more vandalism, courtesy of the homeless. I was ready to move on to another room, when on my way out, something caught my eye. I noticed a reflection of my flashlight, radiating off of something silver inside the oven, through the window on the oven door. I became pretty curious, and walked over to check it out. I opened the door, and peaked inside. It was a pan, with tinfoil covering something inside. I went against everything my gut was telling me, and decided to see what was under there. What I found greatly intrigued me, yet, at the same time, deeply disturbed me. I lifted the tinfoil to find, inside the oven, just… a pizza. A regular pizza. But, on top of the pizza, was a note. It read: “Smells good, don’t it boy!? It’s just too damn bad you can’t open the sweet little mouth of yours, now ain’t it?” I started to shake with nervousness, thinking back to the silenced tenants. My palms began to sweat like faucets. All I could manage to utter was “What the hell went on here?”

I quickly regained my composure, and carried on into the hallway, straight out of the kitchen. “damn, this looks creepy,” I muttered to myself. The hallway was dark, much too dark to navigate without the help of my flashlight. The carpet was stained with too many different substances to count. The roof had been leaking, and the carpet was soaked. Walking on it felt like walking on a wet sponge. Walls covered in various graffiti tags. I shone the flashlight straight down the hallway, and noticed a single light bulb dangling by a string, off of the ceiling. The dark, abandoned hallway, dangling light bulb. I had to laugh a little bit, “It’s like standing on the set of a horror movie.”

I started down the hallway. There were 3 rooms in that hallway. I entered the first room on my left, which happened to be the bathroom. The bathroom was in rough shape. I could not venture too far into it, because of a lack of trust towards the strength of the floor boards. From where I was standing, at the door, I could see that the toilet had been ripped off the floor, and put in the bath tub. The liquid inside the tub, that the toilet was surrounded in, looked to be a mixture of many different bodily fluids. I felt like I was going to vomit. There was a sink, and a mirror above the sink. Typical bathroom. The mirror had been smashed, however. Inside of the sink, was a butter knife, with what looked to be dried cement on it, but I could not be sure. Too far away. I thought nothing of it.

The events that took place in the next few minutes, still haunt me to this day. And, I am now a 34 year old man. No, “haunt,” is too weak of a word. The very thought of my experience horrifies me. Keeps me up at night. I continued straight down the hallway. Just before I reached the next room, something stopped me. Not physically, no, but I was stunned. Emanating from the room to my right, was the sound of someone whimpering, like a wounded puppy. I did not know what to do! “Should I check it out? Should I turn around, and run as fast as I could out of here? But what if it was a hurt child? I could not leave someone so helpless in that place.” After standing there, frozen, for a solid 2 minutes, I had decided to check it out. I stepped inside the room.

This room was odd. Unlike the rest of the house, this room was perfect. Clean, organized. The walls were a light brown, with no graffiti on them. Hardwood floor, with not a scratch, or scuff on it. There was a small desk against the back wall of the room, with nothing but a an old typewriter on it. In one corner, was a bookshelf, filled top to bottom, with books, and magazines, all neatly aligned in rows. Throughout the room, there was also a bed, and a small nightstand beside it. One more thing was in this room. In another corner, was a large cabinet. Inside of that cabinet, was the source of the whimpering. The few short seconds it took me to reach the cabinet, felt like hours. I grasped the handle, biting my tongue out of nervousness, and swung it open.

The second the door opened, the whimpering stopped. There was an extremely pale, and anorexic man huddled up in a ball inside, wearing nothing, but tattered shorts. I could not see his face. I asked, “Sir, do you need me to call someone?” No response. The man stood up, and turned to face me. I was met with an unsettling, and all too familiar blank stare. He made direct eye contact. But, this man, was not like the others! This man had a hole cut out of his cheek, blood still dripping from the wound. I noticed now, that he was still holding the knife. “Was this what he was whimpering about? The pain?” It looked like he planned to use that as his mouth. He stepped out of the cabinet, still staring at me. I took some steps back. The man calmly walked out the door, and into the hallway, not looking back. I considered following him, but I did not want him carving me like a pumpkin on Halloween!

I knew right then, and there, that I needed to get out of there, that instant. I looked out into the hallway. I could see that that the man had left a blood drop trail, leading towards the exit. I sure as hell was not going to go that way. I decided to run down to the basement, and climb out through the window. I ran to the end of the hallway, which was a door to the basement. I swung open the door, and raced down the stairs, being carful not to fall through the old things! I looked around with my flashlight for an open window. Before I made it to a windows, I found something on a big wooden table in the middle of the floor. It was Instructions, and crudely drawn diagrams, showing how to use concrete and a butter knife to “Silence heavens for eternity,” as the pages said.

I remembered the knife in the upstairs sink. I got so scared, I ran over to the side of the room, to a big plastic sink, and threw up in it. As I vomited into the sink I noticed, about 7 more concrete covered knifes in the sink, I was puking in. I frantically looked around for an open window, and noticed 3 unopened bags of concrete, and a wheel barrel beside them. I tried to ignore it, as I found an unlocked window. I closed my eyes, and strained trying to open the old window. Just as it budged, and began to slide, I opened my eyes. There in the window was the grinning face of Mr. White staring back at me! The same grin from when he used to see me in the window. I jumped back startled. Mr. White giggled, as he pulled the window all the way open. He stuck his head through the window and said “You’ve seen way too much boy, better close that mouth of yours!” He was chuckling, like a maniac. Just as he was about to stand up, and presumably crawl in the window, the chuckling stopped. He stopped. Then, I noticed a trickle of blood dropping from one of his nostrils. He fell to his side, and I had a clear view. It was the man from upstairs! He had used his knife to stab Mr. White in the side of his neck. The man then continued to cut a hole out of Mr. White’s cheek. I vomited for the second time that night, right on the floor in front of me.

I darted up the stairs, and through the house to the main door. I unlocked, and opened the door, only to be standing face to face with the pale man again, only this time, he had jammed Mr. White’s cheek into his hole. He was no longer holding a black stare, he was smiling. I pulled together all the courage I had left, and pushed him out of the way. I ran across the street, and into my house. I quickly ran to my window, to see if he was still there. He was. He was staring across the street, grinning, just like Mr. White used to. I closed my curtains, and vomited for the third and final time that night, before passing out on my floor.

The next morning I awoke, and all was normal. Mr. White’s corpse had been taken somewhere, I assume by his killer. Except, things will never be the same for me again. Every time I glance out my window, I am scared to see the grinning face of that man. That pale, murderous man. I can no longer sleep, without the aid of heavy sleeping pills. I will never cross my street again.

Credit To – Matthew Hutchinson

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

The Sleep

Earlier this week, a woman, whose name was not given, was found dead in a mental institution. The authorities say there is no sign of murder, nor was there any evidence of death by natural causes. She was reported to have “drifted asleep and never woke up.” Recently, a letter was found in her room upon inspection, written hastily, and almost illegibly. The contents below are from the letter, and is rather disturbing to many viewers.

To you, who is unfortunate enough to find this,

Consider, if you will, the very nature of a dream. It is the reflection of our lives, our subconscious wishes and desires. It is where who we are, what we are, becomes exposed.


It seemed so safe to me, long ago, to dream. It was carefree, blissful. Yes, there were nightmares, but they were subtle, and easily forgotten. But, tell me, if you can, where do nightmares come from? Many say they come from the deepest shadows, the darkest places, within the far reaches of our minds.

It is much more than that. Much, much more.

High school was over, and college was around the corner. It was a week away and my room was now bare, albeit the larger furniture, and brown cardboard boxes, heavily taped, were pushed against the walls. It was late at night. My dad was already home, watching TV. All was quiet, with just the sound of the television coming in softly from the crack in my door. I was putting the finishing touches on some packing before I went to sleep. Out my window, it was pitch black, with few yellowed street lights lining the sidewalks. Setting down the tape, and giving a stifled yawn, I went to see my dad before heading off to bed. Not surprisingly, he was on the couch, asleep. The TV gave the darkness and eerie glare that reflected off his face and the wall behind me. I sighed and turned, muttering a good night as I headed to my room again.

Sliding beneath my covers, I turned off the light and closed my eyes. The darkness was complete, sleep imminent. I embraced the comforting silence and darkness of sleep, and into what I thought would be pleasant dreams.

It was strange. There wasn’t the usual warm feeling I would get when I drifted off. It was cold, unwelcoming. And I wasn’t by myself either. In the darkness, in the deepest corners, there lay something I could not see, but I could feel, all around me, on the tips of the tiniest hairs.

This place was filled with a small, muffled sound. It was silent at first, but it grew, strangely, morphing into something disturbing.


It was rasping, metallic, hard and heavy. It came from every direction, filling my head until my body was riddled with goosebumps. I felt stuck, trapped, thinking that if I moved or breathed, whatever this thing was would touch me.
Take me.
My voice was frozen, trying to make a sound. The sound seemed to quicken, and it occurred to me that this was the sound of someone – or something- breathing. But who was there, in my head, in the darkness of my mind?

The breathing was accompanied by something else, a screeching that seemed to form words. The words were indistinct, muffled, silent, ominous.


My voice came through, cracked and strained, but loud enough.

Silence came in an instant. It hurt, almost. Like a band aid that had been suddenly ripped off. I was trembling now, afraid. The feeling of something there remained, however. In fact, it now felt closer.

One word rang through my ears.


Everything began to move violently. My neck was seized swiftly, roughly, and I was swung through the air. I landed on something hard and wet. It smelled of rust, of iron, of blood. It was thick, and it soaked me. It was so dark. So dark. I tried to scream, but the thing still had me by the throat. My lungs were screaming for air. I struggled, trying to hit whatever was holding me down.

There was nothing there to hit.

I heard the rasping breathing again, this time at a rapid pace, and small peals of laughter. It echoed, filling my head with a sharp, cold fear that seared through my body.

“Why don’t you just die?”

I sat up, sweat pouring from my body and drenching the bed. My screams were so loud my ears rang for hours, even after my dad came in. I was trembling and my eyes were watering, for I refused to close them.

It was hard explaining to my father. He told me it was a nightmare, a night terror, whatever. I was an adult now, I could deal with this. I was childish, I was a college student. What was wrong with me?

But the thing was, this happened the next night as well.

It was the same thing, the only two things I heard was “Die,” and “Why don’t you just die?” over and over again. I was a rag doll being thrown about violently, choked, beaten, crushed over and over again.

There was no explanation as to why these dreams occurred. I didn’t understand it, and they just kept coming, one more violent after another.

This wasn’t a nightmare. It was so real. It was real. It is real.

Therapy came first. Within a matter of months, I was directed to drugs and medication. Those helped very little. The drugs made me fall asleep even faster, and longer. I was trapped. Stuck. The nights became a prison, a deathbed. There was no escape from this nameless, faceless thing.

I was soon placed into an asylum. The university reported that I had “expressed very concerning and disturbing sleep patterns,” and my “work portrayed a psyche that very much prompted immediate attention and treatment.” It was true. Many an essay had turned a dark, twisted corner. Debates led me to almost mad-man jabber. Even my social habits had changed.
They said I was alert, tense, pale, insane.

Today, the dreams become even worse, even longer. Each time, a new torture comes, toying with me, then tearing me apart. Each time, I hear this, this… thing say, “Die.” That’s all. Nothing more. I fear that, soon, it will be all over. My sleep will be permanent, and I will wake no more. I would rather it be so. I can’t take it anymore. I am alone now. It seems they have forgotten me. I scream every night now, to the point where my voice gives out.

It may be the last day for me. I fear that, if I see its face, I will be gone. Days melt into night and now I have lost time. I don’t know the year, the day, the month, the week, the number. I’m lost.

Tonight, I sleep again. If I do not wake, take this to heart: we are not alone in our minds. Something is watching.


Goodnight, and goodbye.

The letter was found beside a drawing that seemed to be incomplete, but could be described as inhuman. On it was a face, with details hastily drawn. Two eyes that seemed to never shut and a mouth that exposed a set of sharp teeth. The rest of the picture is shaded in darkness. On the back is a title and a single comment. “The Sleep. I’ve seen it.”

Credit To – Zeppeki Hana
Credit Link –

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

Disney’s “Haunter”

It was Halloween, 2006.
Disneyland unveiled a new ride to the public. It was going to be similar to the Haunted Mansion ride, in which you would ride a few cars through scary decorations. “The Haunter”, it was to be called, was designed to be superior to the Mansion, and the Mansion was going to be torn down and replaced with another attraction.
Disneyland staff wanted to test the ride before it was to be officially released to the public, and decided to turn it into a raffle. Write down the name of one or two riders on a piece of paper and drop it into a large box outside the Haunter’s location.
The raffle was crowded for nearly half an hour with hopeful people writing down their names to be selected. It was an excellent opportunity, to be one of the first to ride this new attraction. When the crowd started to leave, a man in Disneyland staff attire collected the box and disappeared behind an “authorized personnel only, all others keep out” door. A few minutes later, an announcement came over the intercoms.
“Will the following people please report to the Haunter…”
The announcement listed off 10 names, apparently the max amount of seats available. The delighted guests hurried to the ride. What may or may not have been coincidence was that there were five males and five females. All were in their teens.
Staff members, after securing them into the ride behind a safety bar and going over safety procedures, started the ride. The ride, which was supposed to be around 7 minutes long, had various elements from Haunted Mansion, but mostly new material. Most of it had been checked to be safe prior to the raffle.
Staff members monitored the progress of the ride through hidden cameras, and were pleased with how the ride was working.
About two minutes into the ride, a sudden power shortage struck the ride, plunging the testers into the dark and the safety rails of the lifts opened. The cameras began to work again, but static engulfed the video and audio. Vague shapes could be seen on the video, but the audio was much clearer.
There was a strange clunking sound nearly lost under the screams of the riders. It seemed every one of them was screaming, one was shouting “No!” over and over again between screams.
Disney rides had power mistakes before, but the guest’s reactions had never been so extreme. A designated park attendant made his way into the ride, equipped with a flashlight and a radio, to find the guests and escort them out of the ride.
Staff monitoring the cameras endured the screams and chaos for an uncertain amount of time before the ride unexpectedly began moving again. The cameras died and would not turn on again shortly after this happened. The riders emerged from the ride, and various park attendants rushed to them to check and see if they were okay.
Two riders were missing, and those remaining were covered in an unknown black substance. The park attendant who had gone inside to escort them out was never found. It was reported that his radio went off around the time the ride began moving again. Staff assumed he was trying to contact them for some reason, but the only sound from it was a high pitched whine with the faintest laughter behind it.
The riders appeared to exhibit symptoms of shock, and did not speak after being removed from the lift. Only after they were taken away by paramedics did one of them speak.
He was asked by the paramedics what happened in the ride.
“That thing took them. The dead thing in the ride. Please… don’t make me go back there. Please don’t let them die.”
All riders spoke vague answers to all questions regarding the events that occurred in the Haunter, and most never returned to a Disneyland park.
A security crew entered the Haunter to search for the missing riders and the employee. They reached the point the lift had stopped, and observed the strange black substance on the ground resembling what appeared to be footprints. One security guard reached down to touch it, and immediately pulled his hand back, insisting it had burned him.
The ride was dismantled, and the missing people would never be found. A new attraction was built on the spot the Haunter had been.
Reports of children seeing things in the new attraction began after it was opened. One mother claims that, halfway through the new attraction, her 8-year-old son whispered to her, while pointing toward the ceiling:
“Mommy, look at those people! Where are their eyes?”
When the mother looked up, she saw nothing. Similar reports of children and people seeing “The people with no eyes” or “The black slime people” appeared every now and then, and cleaning crews complained about finding black, slimy footprints in the new attraction.

The footage of the ride in the Haunter was reviewed after it was torn down. The video was fine until the point in the ride the power died. Large lines of static began obstructing the view, but all those who have seen the footage agree that a figure climbing on the lift to the screaming riders is visible.
After the footage was carefully examined, another piece of evidence to what happened was found. When the power dies, a face is just barely visible. It is smiling with the corners of its mouth gone and tiny black eyes staring straight into the camera. Just before the ride began moving again, the face appears again, but has three other faces behind it.
The faces of the riders who disappeared and the park employee, horrifyingly distorted to resemble the creature. Their eyes were torn out, replaced with a black slime that fell out of the eyeholes. Each one of them was smiling.

All records of the Haunter have presumably been destroyed.
Credit To – Alex Sorrow

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

Salt Circles

I’m a projectionist, I work in an empty booth with noisy projectors and red lighting everywhere. A little paranoia is expected with this environment, but never so more than after one of our employees decided to go the genius route and use a Ouija board up here.

Ouija boards, genius ideas really. Call the supernatural entities right to you, and if they decide that they don’t like to be bothered by you or anyone else, they’ll start messing with shit. Sure, sometimes you do get the calm spirits who just knock shit over or just leave you alone, but sometimes you get stuck with a poltergeist and that’s never fun. Those evil bastards will fuck with you until you’re either dead or you somehow get rid of them. Lets just all remember that these boards are bad news, and everyone knows they tend to become more active when used on sacred areas, burial grounds, things like that. It just so happens that this theater is right next to the Native American Reservation, so yeah, good job you competent worker you.

When that worker got their friends together and used the board up here, I and the rest of the projectionists never really thought anything of it. If you want the full truth, one of us even messed with them while they did it, banging on the wall outside of the booth, causing static over their walkie talkies, it was good fun. The few employees told us that they did, in fact, communicate with a spirit. Apparently this ‘spirit’ told them his name (Which I cannot remember for the life of me) and that he was banging on the walls and causing static and other odd noises while they were attempting to speak with him. Now, I and the other projectionists of course listened intently while trying to stifle our laughter, since we knew that there was no ghost to be had in this booth.
That’s exactly what we thought, but things began happening. On multiple occasions I, and the others from what I have been told, had seen lights flicker and heard small little taps every now and again.. At first we assumed it was just the other employees messing around, and it was pretty obvious when somebody wrote ‘Die projection’ on the wall by one of the doors. I mean c’mon, that’s a bit much for a ghost. After that, all of the happenings started to die down after a short time, but then that oh so competent worker decided to use the board a second time! It was a great idea, because those small occurrences became slightly more noticeable. I would very often see dark shadows on the edge on my vision, or darting away when the lights were turned on, or even shapes at the end of the booth hallway that quickly vanished when I focused my attention to them. When I confronted my coworkers about these strange happenings, they all agreed that they had had similar occurrences happen around them. Some of our things would even be moved from their original spots to somewhere a short distance away, and we all felt cold spots occasionally. My buddy told me that he always felt like he was being watched by something close by, and when he would turn to look it quickly vanished and appeared a short time later every time he would turn around and he could never seem to catch it. Things were getting weird very quickly and we were not sure what to do. Eventually, two of us got the idea of a salt circle in the booth and decided to go with it. I wasn’t there, and don’t know all the details but it seemed like the damn thing actually worked. They really went all out, and so far it seemed to have been a good idea, minus the reprimanding we got from our boss. The main director of the building eventually caught wind of all this, and when he found out about the Ouija board he very quickly attended to the situation and made sure it would never happen again.
It’s been months since then, and everything seems to have died down, or so I thought. Recently strange things have been happening again, like the walkie making odd static sounds multiple times in succession, or odd noises in other offices when nobody is there. Maybe it’s just me; maybe I’m just a paranoid nerd who spends too much time on Creepypasta and other paranormal websites. That’s what goes through my head as I write this, but then I feel that all too familiar cold chill on my body, and when there are no air vents nearby and all the fans in the booth are off, I really start to wonder.

Credit To – Thaddeus

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt
1 Comment

Eyes Wide Open

The sound of rain was like background music for their conversation. The ceiling of Mike’s old attic bedroom was just thin enough to allow the boys to hear every pitter patter of every rain drop as it hit the roof. But the boys didn’t mind. It had been the first time any of them had seen each other in over two years. Attending different universities had more of a strain on their relationships than any of them had anticipated. What was once a pact between brothers to be friends for a lifetime had quickly become an empty promise between strangers. Frequent phone calls, texts, and emails eventually faded into nothing more than a like on Facebook every now and then. None of the three ever did anything to stop the distance. They just let it happen. But they had all graduated and it was time for new beginnings.
Mike rambled on about his time abroad in Spain, only stopping to take a sip of his beer when his mouth got dry. What had started out as an interesting story was now just Mike’s attempt to brag about the interesting things he had throughout his travels. But Tommy and Jared didn’t mind, they were simply enjoying each other’s company.
“Seriously, you guys really need to go there when you have the money,” insisted Mike. “It’s amazing. Seriously. Traveling really helps you see who you really are.”
“It sounds like you had an awesome time,” said Tommy.
“It barely sounds like a vacation. It sounds like all you did was study and go on field trips. Where was the fun? If you’re in a place like Spain, you gotta enjoy yourself.” interjected Jared.
Tommy had been waiting for a comment like this from Jared. Ever since elementary school, Jared had been one of the laziest people they had known. He wasn’t lazy in the sense that he never wanted to do anything, he simply never wanted to do any work. When he had to, he would half ass it. Because of this, it didn’t come as much of a surprise to the boys to find out that he had become a bit of a burn out at college. He’d skip most of his classes to get high. The few he did attend, he barely stayed awake for. But somehow he still managed to graduate. He probably persuaded his teachers. Jared was very persuasive when he wanted things to go his way. If he wasn’t so lazy, he would’ve made a great lawyer.
“I went there for school, Jared. I still had to work hard to get an A,” said Mike, a bit too defensively. “I still had the time of my life. I even met a girl there.”
Jared leaned in from the couch. “Oh really?” he said, intrigued. “You should have lead with this. Tell us about her.”
“She was cute,” muttered Mike.
“Just cute? That’s it? Is there more to this story?” asked Jared.
“I mean, it’s not much of a story really. Me and some guys I was there with went to a bar. We got a little drunk and I started talking to this girl. She liked that I was American. We both got really drunk and we kissed once. I wrote down her number, but the next morning I couldn’t even read what I had written. So, that was the end of that.”
“Oh, very smooth,” Jared said sarcastically.
Tommy laughed and continued to listen to the two go back and forth. Tommy didn’t mind not talking. He had always been shy and awkward in social situations. He liked to keep his mouth shut and listen to what people had to say. Besides, there was enough talking between Mike and Jared that Tommy would never have to say a word. He just enjoyed being with his friends again.
Tommy had noticed that Mike and Jared changed quite a bit since he had last seen them. Mike had gotten rid of his glasses for contacts and now sported a beard, probably in an attempt to make himself look older and more sophisticated. Jared had put on a bit of weight and his hair was now long, shaggy, and appeared to need to be washed. He had a strange balance between caring about his appearance and not caring at all, but it made sense coming from him. Despite these changes, deep down these were the same friends that Tommy had been missing since they all went their separate ways for school.
Tommy sat back and noticed that it had stopped raining. The pitter patter against the roof was gone. He glanced up and found the collection of splintered notches sprawled across Mike’s ceiling. The boys grew up in Smithson County, Pennsylvania. Right in the heart of the Coal Region. Their small town was bordered by coal mines that had been stripped of their resources and long abandoned. Most of them were now barricaded to stop anyone from wandering in and hurting themselves. No one in the town ever paid them any mind. There was nothing of interest in them anymore. So they sat there as more of a relic to be seen and never interfered with. But when the boys were about ten, they had a fascination with them. After school, they would all tell their parents they were going to each other’s houses and meet up at the edge of town. They’d travel as far as the entrance of the mines but the would never go any further. The mystery of whatever may or may not lay within those walls frightened the boys. What if there was a monster inside that was just waiting for them to wander in? They would have no way to fight against such a monster. So to protect themselves, Jared had stolen his dad’s pocket knife. One day after school, Mike invited the boys over to play video games. During a Mortal Kombat break, Jared showed the buys their new weapon of defense. They no longer had a reason to fear the cave. Now they had protection.
Excited for their next trip to the mines, the boys decided to test the sharpness of the knife. Each took turns throwing the knife into Mike’s ceiling and eagerly waited for it to fall back down so the next boy could take a turn adding to the collection of tallies. It was a great time until the knife came down and stabbed Mike in the foot. His parents freaked out and they were each grounded for a month. After that, they gave up their quest to conquer a mine.
Tommy stared at the notches and began to remember the entrance to the mine. He tried to remember it as a simple hole in a rock. But he couldn’t get that image of a monstrous mouth out of his head. It surely couldn’t be frightening anymore. They were adults after all.
“Hey guys,” Tommy interrupted.
“Ah, he speaks,” said Jared.
“Wanna check out the mines?” asked Tommy.
“The mine? Wow, I haven’t thought about them in years,” said Mike. “But there’s nothing there anymore. Besides, they’re all blocked off anyway. Let’s do something else.”
“You’re just scared we’ll stab you in the foot again,” said Jared.
“Oh shut up. I’m just saying there’s no point,” replied Mike.
“Come on, it’ll be fun,” insisted Tommy.
“Fine,” said Mike, reluctantly. “But let’s go tomorrow. It’s too wet out right now anyway.”

Max’s bar was pretty empty that night. It was a small town, but usually people liked to wind down there with a drink after working all day. Max kept the place pretty nice. It wasn’t a typical cheesy sports bar. Max kept the place looking pretty classy. Like a saloon from an old western movie. Max himself only added to the charm of the place. He was a big, burly, old man, but had a niceness about him. Jared always said he was like a rugged Santa Clause. The boys hung their coats up and sat down at the bar.
“Back from school for good this time, boys?” asked Max.
“Just for a couple days and then we’re all going our separate ways,” replied Mike.
“Ah, I getchya. How’r ya spending your time?” said Max.
“Just hanging around. Relaxing. We’re actually gonna go check out the old mines tomorrow,” said Jared.
Max raised his eyebrows and stared at him for a moment. “That so?” He said. “You boys looking for something in there?”
“No, just wanted to look around. We never really got the chance to as kids. Why?” said Tommy.
“Oh no reason,” said Max. “It’s just, every year I get some smart ass, curious archeologist or whatever from out of town stopping in here every few nights saying they came here to explore those mines. They say they’re looking for something that’s gonna make them famous. Gonna change the world. I tell them there’s nothing out there to be found. But they insist there is. Anyway, once they go I never see them again.”
The boys looked at each other, then back at Max.
“They just disappear?” asked Mike.
“I don’t think so. No one ever comes looking for them or anything. I suppose they get disappointed and leave. Everyone knows there’s nothing out there. I tried to tell them, but they insisted that they had found proof.”
“Do they ever say what they were looking for?” asked Tommy.
“Nope. Just that it’s gonna change the world.” said Max.
“Sounds like a bunch of bullshit to me.” said Jared.
“Don’t get your hopes up boys. Anything worth finding in those mines has already been found. There’s nothing there,” said Max.
“Oh we know,” said Tommy. “We’ve just wanted to explore those caves ever since we were little.”
“Right,” said Max, under his breath. “Well anyway, what can I get you boys?”

The boys met up at the edge of town, just as they did when they were young. Each of them carried with them a back pack with a flashlight, some snacks, and spray paint so they wouldn’t get lost inside the mines. Before they could go on their way, Jared stopped them.
“Wait, before we go I want you guys to know that I brought this,” he said.
He unzipped his back pack, reached in, and pulled out a Colt .44 revolver.
“We’ll definitely have protection from any cave monsters with this, huh?” he said.
“Woah, woah, woah!” shouted Mike. “What the hell is that for?”
“You don’t know what we’ll find in there,” said Jared. “What if there’s a crazy hobo, or a wolf, or something?”
“I guess it’s better to be safe,” said Tommy.
“Just don’t go anywhere near me with that,” said Mike.
They walked down the old dirt path that led to the mountains which held the mines. They weren’t very far from the town. What seemed like an adventure when they were kids, turned out to be a ten minute walk in reality. There were several entrances and each had been blockaded or collapsed after they were emptied.
“This is it?” Jared said. “We can’t even get inside.”
“Max said people had looked in here. There has to be more to it than this. Let’s just look around.” said Tommy.
The boys searched around for a bit. All they could find were sealed entrances that would be impossible to open without heavy machinery. The boys began to get disappointed when Jared got their attention.
“Guys look over here! Give me a hand!” He shouted.
Tommy and Mike ran over as Jared attempted to pull aside a large thorn bush with a branch. The two each grabbed a branch and eventually got most of the bush out of the way. This mine was different than the others. The entrance was not very large. Certainly not as large as the other ones. It was just wide enough to fit one person at a time. It did not have the wooden supports holding it up like the others did. It resembled a cave, but the walls were carved out too perfectly to be caused by nature. It had to have been manmade. But there was something about this cave that did not seem right to the boys. They stood, gazing into its mouth, unable to move. In this moment, all of their childhood fears had suddenly come relentlessly back to them. The realization became clear that it wasn’t the fear of a monster inside the mine that caused their dread. The mine was the monster. A monster that wanted nothing more than for them to journey inside its welcoming mouth. Doubt raced through the boy’s minds. Was it worth it? Did they really need to know what was inside? They had lived this long not knowing. Surely they could go the rest of their lives unsure. But in the back of their minds, each of them knew that if they did this together, it would be a memory they’d never forget. It would give their friendship that “kick” it had so desperately needed after years of separation.
“Well, let’s go,” said Jared.
Mike and Tommy nodded their heads. All three simultaneously reached into their backpacks and took out their flash lights and clicked them on. The cave was blackness. To say it was dark would be an understatement. It was as if even light dared not discover what lay within this cave’s walls. Their flashlights created three straight beams that shown about thirty feet in front of them, daring not to travel any farther into the blackness. Jared removed his revolver from his backpack and took the lead, followed by Mike, then Tommy. The three slowly made their way into the cave knowing full well that if they turned back now, they would never return.

After walking about ten minutes, they realized that this cave did not have any sort of tunnels. Up until that point it had been a straight shot. Once they had gotten far enough that he could no longer see the light of the entrance, Tommy took his can of spray paint out of his backpack. Even though there were no twists or turns to lead them off their path, he wanted to be safe.
“Alright, there’s clearly nothing in here,” said Mike. “Can we turn back now?”
“Not yet, we haven’t even found anything,” said Jared.
“There’s nothing here! We’ve been walking in a straight line for over a half hour and haven’t seen anything remotely interesting. Come on. Let’s just go back,” pleaded Mike.
“Oh, will you have some fun for once in your life? All those people came here looking for something. There has to be something in here that no one’s found yet,” said Jared.
“What makes you think we’ll be any better off finding it? I’m sure those guys came here with equipment and shit. We have a flashlights and a gun. Besides you heard Max, they didn’t find anything and left town,” said Mike.
“Do you guys think it’s weird that Max never saw them after they said they were coming here?” asked Tommy.
“Do I think it’s weird that they didn’t go back and tell some random bartender that they didn’t find anything? No I don’t. But hey, they all came alone right? We’re together. That makes us three times as likely to find whatever they were looking for,” said Jared.
“Yeah I guess you’re right,” said Tommy.
They stopped talking for a while after that. The utter silence of the tunnel put Tommy a bit on edge. Even though he didn’t like to talk, he hated silence. That high pitch ring that shot through his ears when it was too quiet drove him crazy. It made him feel like he was hearing things. Luckily, the boys’ footsteps and occasional stick breaking beneath their feet provided a certain rhythm to their journey that kept things from getting too quiet.
He turned his flashlight to face the wall. The walls didn’t look like any cave or mine he had ever seen. It intrigued him. He had never seen anything like it. Small sets of grooves ran all along the walls in spars patterns. He pointed his flash light a bit farther down the tunnel. The grooves continued as far as he could see. Was the entire tunnel like this? He hadn’t notice until just now.
“Hey guys check this out,” he said. He could see his breath now. He figured that they must be pretty far into the tunnel for it to be getting this cold.
“What?” asked Mike.
“Did you see the walls in here? I’ve never seen anything like this,” said Tommy.
He ran his hand along the wall. His fingers fit perfectly into the groves. He wondered what kind of tool they used to dig this mine out. It must have been some kind of pronged rake or somethi-
Just then he bumped into Mike, who had just bumped into Jared.
“What the hell? Why’d you stop?” Mike said, annoyed.
Jared just stood there, squinting into the distance. He was trying to focus his beam on something further down the cave.
“What are you looking at?” asked Tommy.
“Look. There’s some kind of weird rocks coming off the ceiling down there. I think we finally found something, boys,” Jared said.
“Stalactite? There shouldn’t be any in here if this mine is man made,” said Mike.
“Well then let’s see what it is,” insisted Jared.
He started to run down the tunnel. Mike and Tommy did not want to run, but felt unsafe being so far away from Jared; their only form of protection. So they ran after him. Jared ran about fifty feet before stopping dead in his tracks, almost causing the other two to fall backwards. Once they gained their balance back, they looked ahead.
Hanging from a tattered rope that had been crudely fastened to the roof of the cave was a rotting corpse. Mike, Jared, nor Tommy had ever seen a dead body in their life. The senseless violence of their movies and video games had not come close to preparing them for something like this. This body had decayed past the point of looking human. It was no longer a person in front of them, but something from a nightmare. They wanted to look away but they couldn’t. A mixture of fear and fascination kept all three flashlights fixed directly on its horrific face. Its sunken skin was now a translucent yellowish-grey, revealing remnants of dried veins and bones underneath the parchment like layers. But the eyes. The eyes were hauntingly terrifying. The eye lids had retreated and pulled the eyeballs back into their sockets. But the eyeballs appeared in perfect condition, as if they had not decayed at all and were stuck in a permanent stare.
The boys wanted to say something. They wanted to run for their lives in the other direction. But they couldn’t bring themselves to move. Why had they come in here? Had their curiosity about the mines been that strong? Nothing could have prepared them for this.
After what seemed like an eternity, Jared averted his gaze and lowered his flashlight. He immediately wished he hadn’t. Their new friend was not alone. The tunnel had now widened into a much larger room which was filled with dozens of other corpses. Some were also hanging, but others were riddled around the room’s floor. It was a massacre.
“W-what the fuck?” stuttered Jared.
Mike and Tommy finally looked away to see the continuation of their nightmare.
“Guys, we need to get the fuck out of here. I’m serious. We need to get out of this cave and call the cops. They have to do an investigation or something. Someone fucking killed these people,” Mike said frantically.
“I agree. I’m sorry I brought you guys this far. I’m so fucking sorry,” cried Jared.
The two of them began to run out of the cave. But Tommy stayed put and continued to stare at the carnage around him. They stopped and turned around.
“Tommy, what the fuck are you doing? Let’s go!” screamed Jared.
“Hang on guys,” said Tommy.
He was terrified. More scared than he had ever been in his life. But he want to leave yet. There was something about this scene that was off to him and he had to know what it was. The bodies didn’t look like they were murdered. Every single body appeared to have committed suicide. They were all there hanging, shot through the head with gun in hand, or had their throats or wrists slit. They all did this to themselves. But why? Tommy walked further into the room.
“Tommy seriously, let’s go. We’re not leaving you here but I can’t stay here another second,” pleaded Mike.
There was something else that was wrong about this place. As Tommy walked further into the room, he noticed that the bodies seemed to get less decayed. Like they had been here for less time. Is this why these people had come here? To kill themselves? It would make sense. After all, Max said they had spent time in his bar nights before they came out here. Maybe they had come here to do it. But they said they were looking for something. Something that would change the world. Tommy looked around the room for a suicide note of some kind. Maybe he could get some kind of sense of what was going on. One of the older corpses that had shot themselves was lying on top of an old nap sack. Tommy yanked it out from underneath the body and started sifting through it.
“What the fuck are you doing, man?” shouted Jared.
Tommy pulled out a Journal and flipped through it.
“Mike come here,” he called.
“What are you doing Tommy? Please let’s just go. I’m freaking out here. I think I’m having a panic attack. Please, please come on,” cried Mike.
“Please just come over here. Then I promise we can go. I found something,” said Tommy.
Jared and Mike looked at one another. They couldn’t leave without Tommy. He’d never forgive them for that. So the two kept their heads forward and walked towards Tommy trying not to look at their surroundings.
“What is it?” said Mike.
Tommy handed him the journal he had been flipping through.
“It’s in Spanish. Maybe it says what’s going on here? Can you read it?”
Mike looked through the yellowed pages of the notebook, flipping its pages back and forth.
“Yeah I can. Well, kind of. It’s sloppily written and it’s just a few pages of scattered thoughts. Alright I saw what you wanted. Now let’s go man,” he said, shoving the book into Tommy’s chest.
“No. Come on. What’s it say?” said Tommy.
Mike sighed and lifted the book back up. He started reading through more carefully.
“Uh, He was a professor at some university in Spain. He says he made a breakthrough of some kind. Followed some other professor’s notes that led him here. He says from now on no one will discredit him or laugh at him again. He says it led him to find the truth. The word of God. He was just some nut. Come on man, let’s go.”
Tommy nodded and put the journal back in the pack. He stood up and shone his light around the room one more time. His light shined over something he had overlooked before. At the far end of the room was a box. It was a simple black box. But it caught Tommy’s eye. He walked over to it and picked it up. He ran his fingers against its sides. It was incredibly smooth, almost perfect. There was something about this box that brought him solace despite his surroundings. Suddenly nothing else mattered. He ran his fingers to the edge of the lid and opened it.
Mike and Jared watched him look inside. He wasn’t moving or saying anything. He was just staring, with his eyes wide open into the box.
“Okay Tommy, put the box down and let’s go,” said Jared.
Tommy didn’t move.
“Tommy let’s go!” yelled Jared. He began stomping over to him. “Listen Tommy, that’s enough. We’re getting the hell out of here. If you don’t come, then we’re just going to leave without you.”
He put his revolver in between his arm and torso and grabbed Tommy’s shoulder. Tommy snapped one of his hands off of the box and pulled the gun away from Jared. Never averting his gaze from the inside of the box.
“Tommy, what the fuck are you doing?” shouted Jared.
“I see it now,” mumbled Tommy.
“What?” said Jared.
“I see it now,” said Tommy, still staring into the box.
“See what? What are you talking about? Just give me the gun,” said Jared.
Tommy slowly turned his head and looked Jared in the eyes. He stared with his mouth hanging slightly ajar. His face had gone completely white and his eyes were opened far wider than humanly possible. His gaze sent chills through Jared’s body.
“Tommy?” Jared said.
Before Jared had a chance to say anything else, Tommy lifted the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. The sound of the gun shot echoed through the tunnel. Jared and Mike’s ears rang a deafening ring as they watched their friend’s body fall to the ground. But no, he wasn’t dead. He couldn’t be dead. He wasn’t sick. He wasn’t old. He was perfectly healthy. He was their friend. Things like that don’t happen to friends. Everything was okay. It had to be okay. But it wasn’t.
“No, no, no, no, no,” whimpered Mike. “Please get up Tommy. Please.”
Jared continued to stare. He started to cry. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried.
“What the fuck? Why did you do that?” he shouted at Tommy. “Why the fuck did you do that?” He dropped to his knees. The two of them didn’t speak a word for what felt like hours. Mike looked up at Tommy. He still had the box in his hand, but it had closed when Tommy fell to the ground. Mike crawled over to him and reached for it.
“Hey, what the hell are you doing?” said Jared.
“I’m seeing whatever made him do that! There has to be something in here that would’ve made him want to fucking kill himself!” cried Mike.
As he reached for the lid, Jared slapped it out of his hands.
“What are you doing?” said Mike.
“Listen, maybe whatever is in there really did make him kill himself. Maybe it was too much for him to handle. I don’t know. Maybe that’s what all these people came here for. Maybe that’s why all these people are dead,” said Jared, trying to put his thoughts together.
“Aw come on,” said Mike.
“I don’t know, man. Maybe what that Spanish guy wrote was true,” said Jared.
“Since when do you believe in God?” scoffed Mike.
Jared didn’t believe in God. Or at least he thought he didn’t. But he suddenly found himself incredibly frightened at the idea of it.
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s not God. Maybe it’s something else. I just don’t think any person could put something in that box that would make a person want to kill themselves. I just don’t think we can handle whatever is inside there. I don’t think we’re meant to,” said Jared.
“What if we can handle it? We don’t even know what’s in here. We don’t even know how it got here. Don’t you want to know? Don’t you want to know why Tommy died?” said Mike.
“Not if it makes you want to fucking kill yourself. I really don’t think we’re supposed to know.” insisted Jared.
“I really think I can handle it,” insisted Mike.
“I don’t think anyone can handle it. Look at all these bodies. What makes you any different? Please Mike, can we please get out of here? We have to get help. We have to tell Tommy’s parents,” pleaded Jared.
“I have to know.” said Mike. He thrust the box’s lid open and looked inside.
“No Mike! God dammit!” Jared cried.
Mike stared into the box for a few seconds. He then slowly turned and bent down to pick the gun up out of Tommy’s hand. He never once looked away from the box. He brought the gun towards his head and put it in his mouth. He quickly snapped his wide gaze to Jared’s eyes. Jared tried to run to him in a hopeless attempt to stop him. But it was too late. Mike was now on the ground next to Tommy. Both staring wide eyed, into oblivion.
Jared’s mouth went completely dry. He felt sick. He couldn’t stand any longer. He once more fell to his knees. Why was this happening to him? What had he done to make him deserve this? What kind of God would put him through this? So many questions rushed through his head as he stared. He was not staring at the bodies. He was not staring at Tommy. He was not staring at Mike. He was staring at the box that now lay in front of him.

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt

White Noise

We all know what it is, right? We hear it in every doctor’s office, some offices, sometimes people play it to go to sleep. That dull roar of whatever the company wanted it to sound like. The ocean, nature, whatever. It’s a comforting, gentle lull that calms people down, soothes tormented eardrums after the clamour of the day. Me? Personally, I can’t listen to it anymore. I only remember awful things when I hear it, the roar rising to clashing crescendos in my ears, the blood pulsing in my temples, eardrums throbbing. Maybe that’s all in my head. Come to think of it, that would make sense. I’ve stopped trying to figure it out. I use to love those little machines, you know. I loved to sleep with them on, listening to the lure of the ocean, enjoying fond nostalgia of my seaside hometown. Now the only things that come to mind are bright light and piercing sound. I’d like to say that it happened a few months ago. Or maybe it was a few years ago. Or weeks ago. I’ve lost all concept of time by now. I can’t think. Just writing this is taking all of what little remains of my energy. I think… I think after this I’m going to just give up. It’s not worth fighting anyhow.

Anyways, what I remember of the day, was that it started so average. I woke up at a normal time, ate a normal breakfast, had a normal commute, got to work, and finished my work day. But, as soon as I clocked out, something seemed… off. It wasn’t anything enitrely different, just… off. Like someone had put a filter over my eyes, as if, the world was discolored. Everything seemed to be at different angles, some too sharp, some too soft. Did I forget something? I feel as if I forgot something. I shrugged it off as my tired brain after a long day after filing paperwork. As I drove home, something seemed… different. I tried to think about what it was, when it came to me. There were hardly any cars around. I work in the middle of the city, so, obviously, this was abnormal. All in all, there were about thirty cars. At least, as far as I could see anyhow. The closer I got to home, anyhow, the already few cars starting to dwindle until, finally, I was alone, still miles away from my house, all the while feeling that vague sense of how I forgot something.

Now, by this time, I was starting to panic, as I have never coped well with fear or unusual situations. I grabbed my phone and tapped furiously onto the flat surface, frantically searching for the right application. I finally found what I was looking for, and the soothing sounds of nature. Only, it sounded distorted. As if the ocean it were taken from were angry, violent, smashing against rocks. I chalked it up to the crappy speaker on my phone, but I was still unsettled. The closer I got to home, the louder the noise seemed. I tried to turn down the phone, but the more I fiddled with it, the louder it became. I threw the phone to the other side of the car, desperately telling myself that it was just broken. The discordant crashing rose and fell, clamoring in my ear. At this point I was well and truly scared, close to hyperventilating. As I pulled into my driveway, the noise was nearly unbearable, so loud to the point of hurting my ears. I pulled in and slammed the door shut, desperate for a release from that awful, jarring, strident noise. To my absolute horror, the noise continued, unabated, as if it was no longer coming through any speakers. I rushed into my house, frantically searching for solace in my family. I no longer could here anything but the cacophony of the white noise. As I fumbled around with my keys to unlock the front door, I felt warm trickles running down my face. There was a light too. Not seemingly coming from anywhere, just, creeping in on the edges of my vision, a bright white curtain that slowly progressed over my sight. I finally unlocked the door and burst through it. I called out for my family, hoping that it was all in my head, praying that they weren’t going through the same hell. The light was slowly blinding me, I could hardly see, and whipped into a panic, I started madly stumbling through the house. Knocking over everything that I bumped into, I couldn’t find a trace of anyone. I dashed toward the stairs, calling out their names. The noise was loud, so loud… At this point I could only hear a loud ringing in my ears. I ran to my bedroom, and just before the light completely overtook my sight, the ringing bringing me to my knees, I saw splashes of blood over the walls, my family grouped all on the bed. I started to scream as my sight and hearing were overtaken. I finally remembered what I had forgotten this morning.

I now know why they call it White Noise
Credit To – DK Martin

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August 30, 2014
by derpbutt
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Motion Sensor

I sat at my desk, finishing a last minute homework assignment. True, I had had a week to finish it, but knowing me, I left it until the night before. It was 10:27, not quite late yet, and I only had a little bit left to finish. As I typed the conclusion, my attention snapped to my window, which was positioned by the side door. The motion sensor light above the door had come on. I got up to check, it was silly, I thought to myself as I peered through my blinds, no one would be stealing our car or trying to break in- and, just as my logical-self had thought, my mother had just left the side door not completely closed, and it had moved open, triggering the sensor. I sighed and turned away from the window, making my way to the kitchen. The house was abnormally quiet; my parents must have turned in early. I stepped beside my fridge and opened the wooden side door, then lean’t out to pull the screen one closed. I misjudged the length that the door was away from me, and fell forward. In a desperate attempt to save myself, I stepped quickly out of the doorway. My shoelace must have gotten caught on the bottom of the door, and slammed it closed. No big deal.
Despite my attempt to save myself, I had fallen. I got up and brushed myself off. I reached for the doorknob, then realized, the door automatically locked, and I didn’t have my key with me. I tried to shrug it off, even though this series of events was making me very uneasy. I’d go to the front and ring the doorbell, easy. Then came another thought. My parents had gone to bed early. I’d just have to wake them up and probably endure a lecture.
I began walking to the front door, until I stopped the sudden realization of why I had missed the screen door; my father had taken it off last week. Just clumsy me, I laughed quietly, then froze. If it hadn’t been the screen door that had turned on the sensor, which meant it was something else. It was also that same something else that had slammed the door, I wasn’t wearing shoes.
I heard a crunch of leaves and turned around.
I couldn’t see anything, but I knew it was there.
An unbearable pain erupted in my stomach. It felt as if needles were being pressed slowly into my arms, then as if they were being plunged in and then out. Black spots clouded my eyes, I had to stay awake, and I had to stay alive. There was no proof, no blood, it seemed as though nothing caused it, but I knew better, it was the same thing that had caused the light to turn on.
Another pain. This time in my shoulder, it felt as if something was sawing my shoulder, trying to get through the bone, Again, I nearly dropped to the ground.
I was sure I was going to die.
Then the pain stopped. It was silent.
I stood, not moving. I didn’t dare move in case the invisible thing came back.
Then a horrible thought crossed my mind. My father should have been in the living room with my mother, clearing up the final plans for their catering session tomorrow.
They were both dead too.
I knew it before I went and jimmied open the front door, I knew it before I looked into their shared office. What is saw was absolutely horrifying, their blood, on the walls, the roof, everywhere. My mother’s arm, cut off, lying by my feet, it had been severed at the shoulder. Then my father, blood, coming out of the thousands of needle sized holes in his stomach, as well as his neck.
It was then that I knew that it had been my parent’s pain that I had felt, the reason there had been no marks on my body.
I saw a note, etched into the wood of my mother’s desk by the thing that had killed my parents, “behind you, darling”.
As I turned around, I saw it. It was no longer an invisible terror, no longer something I could brush off as a coincidence, and this time, it saw me too.

Credit To – Madison.s.m
Credit Link –

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