Ewww... thats just creepy. Share some stories, bishes!

[fukaimoriMidori]

Persuaded


It’s been 2 weeks since this whole thing started.
It all started with a tanker accident. It was all over the news. Everyone thought it was just another oil spill. There were plenty of volunteers. Plenty of people wanting to help the poor defenseless animals. Plenty of victims. Within hours of the tanker accident, it started happening. The animals had gone crazy, they were scratching and biting the clean up volunteers. They said that it was an adverse effect to whatever was in that tanker.

Rescue workers were still trying to get the crew out of the ship. They could hear screaming inside. Screams to open the doors. But that’s when it all went to hell. As soon as they cut the door out.

There was 6 minutes of broadcast before it went silent. 6 minutes of screaming and agony. The ship crew attacked the rescue workers like rabid baboons. Breaking bones and tearing flesh. The people on the shore weren’t fairing any better. Those that had been attacked by animals were attacking everyone else. It was worse than any war zone report, it was sheer brutality, and yet the broadcast still went on for 6 minutes. 6 minutes and then blank faces. Nobody could explain what was happening. They tried to continue with regular news, the economy, the weather, a cute human interest story, but they couldn’t make us unsee what we saw.

I tried to continue with my regular existence but every time I switched on the news or walked by a news stand it was there. This big mystery. They had some explanations, some kind of infection, brain parasites, but it didn’t matter. It wasn’t an infection we were afraid of, it was them.

4 days after the initial report, a state of emergency was raised. And yet we’d all seen this before. Every zombie movie ever. People didn’t know who to trust. People were stockpiling food and weapons. Some tried to flee but it seems every zombie movie was right. They didn’t make it. 3 days later they arrived in my town.

I expected moans, shuffling corpses, dismemberment, but that’s where the movies lied. They ran through the streets, screaming. I remember running to my front door as fast as I could, locking, barricading, doing anything to make sure it would stay shut, and then I headed for the window. I was on the second story and I could see the carnage. They were unstoppable. They were aware.
A group of them made there way through a building across the street. They jumped straight through plate glass windows. Even the shards slicing through them made no difference, they just kept coming. My barricade wasn’t going to hold. I rushed around my flat, grabbing supplies and jamming them into the most secure room of the flat. I went back for one last look across the street, and I wish I hadn’t. In a second story window, my face met one of theirs. They knew where I was. I quickly dashed into the room and locked the door.
I don’t have any kind of panic room, or a secure basement, so the safest place I could think of was my bathroom. No windows, one door with a lock. I had filled my sink and bathtub full of water, So I could stay for a while. So I sat there in the dark room, with the distant screams in my ears.

I began to feel like I may have over-reacted, it had been 2 hours and no sign of them. It actually got quieter and I thought they had moved on. Maybe I could leave the room, get to the kitchen. Grab more food to wait it out. A crash came from the front door. The sound of someone running full force into the door and knocking down the barrier behind it. There was a couple more crashes before I knew they were inside. Rapid footsteps moving around the flat, a couple screams and then a bang on the wall beside me. My eyes were open to their widest, even in the pitch black darkness of the room. Another bang, and another. They knew I was there and they knew I was scared.
This was the zombie nightmare I had been expecting from the start. I had nowhere to run. There was only so much time before they would break in. I sat with my back to the door, hoping my extra weight would make it harder for them to get in. And then it got worse.

“why don’t you open the door?”

A voice on the opposite side of the door. No screams or moans, just a quiet, whispery voice. And then more of them.

“we’ve come for you.”

“you’ll be happier if you open the door”

“it’s not so bad…”

The whispery voices, became a cacophony of noise trying to persuade me, to break me, to fool me. I had heard that the moaning of zombies would drive people insane but this was worse, a siren call. I sat in the darkness and hoped and prayed that they’d get bored. But they don’t get bored and they don’t leave. I managed to use the mirror to peak under the door, only to be greeted by horrible unblinking eyes, blood smeared faces, screams and more horrible whispers. That was two days ago…

I don’t know what to do anymore… maybe it won’t be so bad…

–
Credited to Chris Stewart.

[fukaimoriMidori]

The Fourth Wish

You awaken with a high pitched ringing in your ears. Gradually, the sound becomes softer, like the humming from your refrigerator, and eventually, it stops completely. Even after a peaceful night’s rest, your eyes are not ready to open. Your instincts urge you to KEEP THEM CLOSED, but you find no reason not to open them.

The florescent lights blind you as your eyes are adjusting to the brightness. You are in a perfectly square, white room with one door. One door. There is nothing strange about the door, yet you find it strange how the door seems so ordinary. You are now sitting up in your own bed, in an unfamiliar room. You are not surprised. You don’t know why. But you are not surprised. Your gut is telling you to go back to sleep, telling you not to be so curious, telling you not to….. too late. You notice an elderly man, possibly in his late 70’s, sitting in the corner of the room. He is wearing a cheap brown suit and a pair of sunglasses. There are several pieces of cardboard signs, resting on his lap. He opens his mouth and begins to speak… he makes no sound. After a few moments, his lips stop moving and he grins. He grins. It reminds you of the smile of a mischievous little boy, stealing toys from his siblings. The man lifts up the first sign, it is written by hand. “Hello, my name is Micheal, do not be afraid of me. I will not hurt you.” He continues to smile, showing his decaying teeth. He switches to the second sign. “I will grant you three wishes, if you want them. Any information I reveal will count as a wish. I will not hurt you.” He waits. You nod your head. He switches to the third sign. “If you use up all three wishes, I will give you another three, but once you start to use the next set of wishes, you will have to give me something… valuable. I will not hurt you.” You immediately want to know, “Tell me why I’m in this room.” Before your lips begin to produce any sound, his mouth begins to move. You notice his crooked yellow teeth. It keeps moving as though he is talking, yet he makes no sound. You feel somewhat frustrated and cheated by the mute man. You get up and walk towards the plain white door. The man gets up, slowly feeling for the corners of the bed, he crawls under it, it is obvious that he cannot see. You approach the door, turn the knob, and open it. After opening the door, you find that the door is still closed, and you are holding a piece of cardboard with your own writing on it. You read it. “You have one wish left, don’t open the door” You check on the old man, he is still under the bed. He is grinning again, this time, the grin stretches across his face. His decaying mouth begins to laugh. A soundless laugh. You start to realize that the situation is hopeless. You want to go home. You want to wake up and realize that it was all just a dream. You say to the old man, “I wish this was all just a dream and I won’t remember it when I wake up.” How stupid, you notice it only now. You are deaf. You will never notice this, but you used four wishes.

You awaken with a stinging sensation in your eyes. Gradually, the pain becomes less intense, like a wound starting to scab, and eventually, it stops completely. Even after a peaceful night’s rest, your eyes are not ready to open. Your instincts urge you to KEEP THEM CLOSED, but you find no reason not to open them.

Your gut is telling you to go back to sleep, telling you not to be so curious, telling you not to notice the old man with the rotting smile, staring intently at you.

-Brian Chua

[Blissful Squall]

About two years ago, I wanted to go travelling and was looking for a summer job. Sweltering days had continued for many days. Soaking wet with sweat, I kept looking through a situations-vacant magazine and made numerous phone calls; but no place would accept me. I threw the magazine on the floor, swearing with annoyance. Then by chance a page opened where there was an advertisement offering a job at an inn.

The location of the hotel was exactly where I wanted to go for holiday.
The pay wasn’t so good, but it provided accommodation and free meals for all employees, which was an attractive offer to someone like me who had been living on instant noodles. I called them immediately.

“Hello, this is ____ Inn, may I help you?”
“Ah.. hi. I saw your advertisement. Is there still a job vacancy?”
“Just a moment please……..buzz…zzz……t…so………..d…….”

The receptionist sounded like a young woman. I heard her talking to a man (maybe the owner?) in low voices. I waited, full of expectation. Soon I heard someone pick up the phone again.

“Hello?” It was the man’s voice.”So you want to take the job?”
“Yes, I saw the ___ magazine, and I really want to work at your inn.”
“Ok…Thank you very much. We’ll be very happy to have you with us, too. When can you come?” “Anytime.”
“Well then, why don’t you start tomorrow? May I take down your name? ”
“It’s Kamio (pseudonym)”
“Fine. Mr. Kamio, come soon….”

Things went surprisingly smoothely. I was lucky.
I always record phone conversations in case I miss out on important information. I took notes as I replayed it. I had a lot to take with me. Since it was a live-in job, I needed things like an insurance.
I glanced at the inn’s advertisement again. It had a picture of the inn in black and white. The surrounding looked beautifully rustic.

I felt relieved at having finally found a job and was also glad it was the place I wanted to visit. But something was wrong. I started cooking instant noodles while humming a tune. The tune too, sounded somewhat strange to my ears. Feeling the humid breeze from the window, I began eating the noodle; then I realized what was wrong. The conditions were good: I could both earn money and enjoy the feeling of travelling too; there seemed to be some girls working there and I could expect a pleasant encounter. But somehow, I didn’t feel happy at all. I looked myself in the mirror. I felt severely depressed and for no reason at all. My face looked as though it had suddenly become older and lifeless.

The next day I woke up with a terrible headache. I had a nasty cough. Maybe I caught a cold?
I tottered to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Blood oozed from the gums. I looked at myself the mirror. It gave me a start. I had very deep dark circles under my eyes and my face was so pallid that I looked almost…..
Should I not go? But I had already packed everything the night before.Still, I hesitated.
Then the phone rang.

“Good morning. This is ___Inn. Is it Mr.Kamio?”
“Yes. I was just getting ready to go.”
“I see. But are you OK? You don’t sound well.”
“I’m fine. It’s only that I just woke up.”
“Take care of yourself. You can enjoy our inn’s hot spring when you get here. It’s only the first day and you’ve got to relax a little. We are not so busy yet.”
“Oh..Thank you very much. But… I’m quite OK. Thank you.”

How kind of them to call me like that. I was very grateful.
But as soon as I hung up, I started feeling cold all over. My head was spinning as I opened the front door.
“I…..I…. will be…OK when I get to the Inn.”
I was so unsteady on feet that, as I walked to the station, people turned their heads to look at me.

Soon it started raining.
I had to walk without an umbrella in the cold rain. My coughing got so bad it was painful.
“I want to…rest…at the Inn.”
I arrived at the station, drenched to the skin. I bought a ticket. Then I saw my hand, the appearance of which gave me a shock; although wet with rain, the skin was very rough to the point of cracking. It was a hand of an old man.
“What’s this..? Maybe it’s a disease? I hope I can get to the Inn alright.”

I walked up the stairs, leaning heavily on the handrail, and taking frequent rests. There was a plenty of time yet until the train came. I almost collapsed on the bench. I wheezed hard. My voice was gone. My hands and feet felt numb. Headache attacked me constantly.
I coughed again and blood splattered at my feet. I wiped my mouth with a tissue; it was covered with blood.
I stared at the platform with blurry eyes. “Quickly…..must go to the Inn…”

The train arrived and the doors opened.
I saw people getting on and off, and slowly got up from the bench. I had a pain in my lower back. I staggered to the door. My body ached everywhere. If only I could get on that train…..

And just when I placed my hand on the edge of the door, an old woman with a fiendish expression on her face appeared from the inside of the train and made a dash towards me.
I was knocked to the ground. The old woman staggered for a moment but she attacked me again. We began to grapple with each other; but sadly, I was so feeble I was no match even against an old woman.

“Stop! Stop it! Let me go! I have to get on that train!”
“Why?Why?”Sitting astride on my chest, the old woman asked me. She took hold of my head and pinned it firmly to the ground.
“If…if not, I won’t be able to go to the Inn!”
The station staff came and pulled us apart.
The train was gone. Unable even to stand up, I sat still in the middle of the gathering crowd.
Then the old woman, breathing hard, said to me, “you are being called. That was close.”
And she left.

The station staff asked me a few questions, but I was soon released.
Reluctantly, I started walking towards home.
On the way, I gradually began to feel better.
My voice began to come back too. I caught sight of my own reflection on a shop window; my face had regained colour. It was odd.

I arrived home, put down my luggage and smoked a cigarette. When I calmed down sufficiently I picked up the phone, thinking that at least I could tell the people at the Inn that I was not coming.
But what I heard the next moment was a mechanical voice which said,
“The number you have dialled is not in service…”
I dialled the number again.
“The number you have dialled is not in service…”

I was confused. The number was exactly the same as the one from which I received the call this very morning.
It’s not right. It’s not right it’s not right….
Then I remembered I had recorded the conversation. I rewound it to the beginning.

>Play
“zzzz….buzzz…z..Hello, this is __Inn. May I help you?”
What? A shiver went up my spine. I was sure it was a young woman’s voice before; but now, it sounded like a man’s voice.
“Ah.. hi. I saw your advertisement. Is there still a job vacancy?”
“Just a moment please……..buzz…zzz….. t….so………..d…….”
???
I thought I caught some bits of their conversation.
I rewound it a little and turned up the volume.
“Just a moment please……..buzz…zzz….. t….so…….c….d…….”
>Rewind
“Just a moment please……..buzz…zzz….. it….so…….co….d…….”
>Rewind
“It’s so cold… I’m freezing..”
It was a child’s voice. Moreover, voices of so many people, groaning and moaning, were heard in the background.
No!!!
I jumped back from the phone.

“Ok…Thank you very much. We’ll be very happy to have you with us, too. When can you come?”
“Anytime.”
The conversation was as I remembered it. But I was talking to a middle-aged man. The voice I heard now was a chillingly deep voice of an old man.
“Fine. Mr. Kamio, come soon….”
The call ended at that point.
I broke out in a cold sweat.
I was unable to move. It started raining cats and dogs outside again…
Soon, the recording of this morning’s conversation started replaying.
But I was the only person speaking in it.

>>>

“Yes. I was just getting ready to go.”
“Die die die die die die die die die die die die die die”
“I’m fine. It’s only that I just woke up.”
“Die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die die”
“Oh..Thank you very much. But… I’m quite OK. Thank you.”

I unplugged the phone completely.
My mouth went all dry. What? What’s this?
What’s the hell is this?

I grabbed the situation-vacant magazine. Trembling, I turned its pages to find the advert.
My hands shook. The page was there. The magazine was brand new but only that particular page had creases and stains, and slightly burnt around the edge. No matter how you looked at it, it was an old piece of paper, like a magazine page from a few decades ago. And the page showed a picture of a burnt-down inn, and some paragraphs below it. The words read: Thirty dead. Fire started in the kitchen. The fact that the body of the owner was found in the kitchen indicates the fire started while cooking. The fire rapidly spread and many guests failed to escape and burned to death….

This…this is not an advertisement..
I sat there paralysed.
The wind blew and caused the pages of the magazine to turn. My mind had become numb and I was as motionless as a stone.
Just then the rain started to subside.
And for a brief moment, I was enveloped in dead silence.

–
Source: The always-awesome Saya In Underworld. Go there now!

[change whore]

in my opinion, cats could rule the world.
brilliant creatures they are.
keepers of another dimension.
i think my cat is my protector.
and i am his keeper.
i luf my kitteh!!! 3nodding

[Sveglia]

The Bad Dream

“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23.

“Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?”

“No, Daddy.”

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room.

“Why not sweetie?”

“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.” For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can’t take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

[The Qemist]

Alexia426

The Bad Dream

“Daddy, I had a bad dream.” You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23.

“Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?”

“No, Daddy.”

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room.

“Why not sweetie?”

“Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.” For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can’t take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

gonk

[Sveglia]

Would you like to know what's really scary?

My German Exam.

[Jisabella]

Anyone have the link to the "Ted the Caver" website? I was reading it for a while but got too busy to continue, and now I've lost the link.

[change whore]

aww its dying! gonk
keep it going!
or something....
trying not to soud to persistent. eek
.::.

[Alyka]

Don't worry. The thread will never truely die.

[plumbfairy]

the thread dieing, that'd be the scariest of all.

~ive been a thread stalker for quite a good while~

[Blissful Squall]

Meh...It dies, comes back, dies, comes back, dies...etc.
Like a zombie.
--------



I slept fine last night. Didn’t sleep so well Sunday though. It was my own fault, really. I did tell him he was welcome in if he pleased.

My dream began like one of those horror games you might see, like Silent Hill or Alone in the Dark. It was night out, and almost pitch black. I was holed up in some building, hiding from something. Or waiting. I peeked out; the door was glass and had some rule stickers on it. I suppose I was in a corner store. Upon looking out, I see a deserted street, lighted by a few dim streetlamps. The street was dead empty, dead silent. I seemed to be in the middle of a city… yet there was nothing.

I tentatively opened the door, creeping out into the cold night. Ever have on of those dreams where you can feel what’s happening? This was one of those dreams. I turned left out the door and began walking. The street was sloped, and I was going down. Suddenly I stopped in front of a building. Looking to my left at it, it seemed like a small house. Not one like you’d see in the city. It was in shambles, a light grey blue color. I felt the need to go in, to see the inside. I crept up to the door and turned the handle.

Opening the door, I looked in. There wasn’t much but a few boxes, a table, and a bed. I moved silently towards the bed. On it slept a person. I glared down at her for a few moments, her sleeping figure taunting me. I bent down, picked up an object, and swing.

The brick ensured that she would not wake up soon. Dropping the bloody, hair-matted brick, a message flashed through my mind, clear as day, a dark, deep, raspy voice speaking through my mind. “The sinew will sew together the darkness and damnation.” I only know of one kind of sinew; it’s the stuff inside of you, connected to your muscles and bones, that let you move the way you can. Looking over to the table, I saw the moonlight glinting off something. I walked over and there sat a knife, placed perfectly in the center, the blade facing away from me. He knew I was coming. He knew he could tell me to do this. He knew I would oblige.

I picked up the knife and walked back over to the unconscious form in the bed before me. Her blonde hair was spilled out around her, her head bleeding profusely. I feel now as though I recognized her… but I can’t be sure. I tore the sheet off of her and brought the knife down to her, stripping her flesh from bone, until he muscles were all visible. I began grabbing at the sinew, slicing at it, and piled it all up. Once I’d gathered all I could, I began wrapping it around itself. It formed a blindfold.

I put it on, and all was black. Until the darkness was filled with an image. A house far off, silhouetted against the night sky. Atop it was a figure, and a dog. The dog howled, and the figure turned towards me. His tattered cowl flapped in a soundless wind. His blazing eyes bored into me, the blood red beads that were his pupils boring into my soul. He grinned at me, knowing he’d just gotten one step closer to corruption. I began calling him. Like in many dreams, there were things I could not control; my voice was strained, and even though I shouted as loud and hard as I could, the sound traveled mere feet. I woke up soon after that, feeling as though I had not slept at all.

And I knew I hadn’t. That wasn’t sleep. He’d brought me into his world. He’d done so many times before, and he’d watched what I did as I was placed in a deserted carnival, in a school of ravenous creatures waiting to devour me and my closest friend. He’s there sometimes, my friend, but I think I know why. I think he’s sick too.

I looked around and knew where I’d been. I knew what I’d seen. “The sinew will sew together darkness and damnation.” And it had. He’d shown himself to me. He was no longer what he’d been. A shapeless shadow. A shadow with eyes. One with a cowl and a demon grin. One who’s eyes glowed hot with flames. One who spoke to me, and caressed my face with clawed, shadowed hands.

No.

He has a shape now. He’s real. He’s come so far there’s no way I can get rid of him now. He needs a vessel, and he’s chosen me.

Besides, everyone is a little sick, even if they don’t want to believe it.

[Blissful Squall]

My father was a military man. Retired back in ‘95 from the Navy after 20 years of proud service to our country. But before that, we moved often… every 3-4 years or thereabouts we’d pack up and get shipped somewhere new. Early 1989, a wonderful opportunity arose and dad took it. A 16 hour flight later, and we were stationed at N.A.S Sigonella, Sicily. I guess I was about, ohhh 10 or 11 at the time. Those years were blurred save those pinpricks of memory that still haunt me. That still plague my dreams from time to time.

Our first home there was an apartment in a complex called “Bellavista” far from the Naval base. There was a waiting list to move into Base Housing that generally ran for about a year and a half’s wait. Until your time to move, you had to live amongst the locals wherever you could. Bellavista was a beautiful place… we lived on the upper floor of the complex and had a wonderful view of the countryside off our back balcony. At night, one could look up at the night sky and see a thin trail of fiery red lava slowly ebbing from still active Mt. Etna. And in the morning, everything left out in the open was often found to be blanketed ever so slightly in volcanic ash, almost like a light dusting of snow.

But naturally, as perfectly nice as Bellavista was, it wasn’t meant for us for long. The lnadlord’s daughter was pregnant, engaged… and homeless. Guess who got the boot? So we moved, with the landlord’s assistance, into another home. Motta S. Anastasia, a little cobblestone-streeted town near Catania, and much closer to the Navy base. The day we drove up to the new place, I felt ill. Of course, nothing was thought of this at the time, but I’d swear in retrospect I was being told something. The place was a 3 story house with an apartment on each floor. I really don’t remember the neighbors, but both were similarly Navy families. And I can imagine I pissed them off a lot with the screaming.

Dad unlocked the door and proceeded into the small entryway. The cobblestone street gave way to a marbled floor entrance and a matching set of marble stairs up to the second floor, which was our new home. The place was stunningly beautiful. Marble floors… glass french doors into the living room area… balconies attached to nearly every room, save the one that was to be mine. Claw foot bathtub…bidet… all the modern conveniences expected of a home in Europe.

I walked into the room that was going to be mine. Small, simple, square and quite cold. To the left, at the end of the wall was a door covered with a “persiana.” Basically, a form of window blinds made from heavy horizontal flaps that was operated via a cloth strap attached to the wall. I pulled it up to see that the door was mostly glass and beyond it was a very small “room” lined with brick along the floor and walls. I opened the door and stepped into the room and looked up to discover the room extended all the way up through the third floor and up to a hole in the roof. There was no covering on the hole either… it went straight into open air. The shaft allowed a fair amount of light to shine into the only room in the house without a window in it, which I thought was pretty damn cool initially.

The chill seemed to come from the room, despite the glaring sun nearly directly overhead. It was then I heard the first whispers. Like… if you were to take a wire brush and softly rub the stiff bristles against your jeans. At the time, I attributed it to echoes off the brick… but I couldn’t help but feel weird about it. It wasn’t coming from any discernable direction or source… but it surrounded me like a blanket, as if sound could be tangible and touchable. It pressed in gently on my ears like pressure on an aircraft ascending or descending. I turned to leave and I noticed a glinting drain in the middle of the floor. It was obviously for rainwater to drain away but my nausea increased when I saw it. My stomach gnawed at itself as I ran out of there and I swear I saw the drain cover jiggle a bit on my way out. I lowered the persiana quickly and rejoined the family in the living room, shaking and sick as a dog.

Now granted… a little brick room was far from the norm for paranormal ghosty stuff. But try telling that to whatever was in there. Christ. For weeks and weeks, I’d get up the nerve to open the persiana in broad daylight and risk a peek… only to stumble back from the door sick as all hell to my stomach and trembling. I tried telling my parents of course… but an 11 year old’s ramblings about a scary brick room generally get chalked up to too many “Freddy” and “Jason” movies. The whisperings rarely stopped at night. They were persistent from the time I laid down until I finally forced myself into slumber. Often, I’d wake up in the middle of the night to silence, and then the whisperings would start up again, as if it was waiting to make sure I was awake.

There was never any real words to the whispering… just a hollow “ksssh sshhhaww hissssshhhhh haaahhh ooooshhhh aaashhhhh” that seemed to repeat, but never in the same cadence. There was no emotion behind it either that I can remember. It wasn’t angry, it wasn’t sad nor happy. Just there. Always ******** there.

One night, after about 2 months of this, I was awoken by a particularly horrifying dream. I seemed to start having those dreams after we moved in… I had never had constant nightmares prior. But I awoke from the dream with the feeling that something was terribly, terribly wrong. Immediately my eyes darted to the door… and saw that the persiana was up. Now, European goons with experience, back me up… Persianas are about the noisiest damn things to have in a house. They’re generally metal slats hooked in with metal hooks that grind and squeak loudly in protest as they’re pulled open. There was no way in hell that the persiana, which was always closed, could have been opened without waking up everyone in the house. But sure enough, it was open about 3/4 of the way up the damned door. A bit of moonlight reflected off the bricks in the shaft and into my room with a dull bluish tone. I lay there for hours, paralyzed in my bed, but unable to look away from the door, lest there be something there when I looked back. Eventually, I just conked out…

The next morning crept up finally and I was freed from my paralysis. I ran to the door amidst a wave of nausea and pulled the persiana shut as fast as I could. There was a light dusting of volcanic ash on the brick floor and I’d swear I could make out footprints or scuffing in it. Mom, still asleep at the time, yelled at me from across the hall after hearing the noise, but I couldn’t care less.

Over the course of the next 3 months, it was the same routine. The whisperings never faltered. The persiana would be found at least 2 to 3 times a week opened, and the blackness of the room would stare out at me in my bed. Then one night, it was different. I still have nightmares of this incident and it makes me cringe and want to curl up in a ball still whenever I conjure it up. I had awoken again in the midst of a terrible nightmare. And sure enough, the persiana was up, but this time it was all the way up. The moonlight was barely filtering in that night, but I’d swear I could make out something there in the room. It felt like I was at just the right angle for me to see whatever it was, and if I were to move the slightest bit, I’d lose sight of it. It was a small sphere that shimmered like a soap bubble does. But it was so faint I could barely make it out. I watched as it hovered there for the longest time. It began to shrink like some TVs used to do when you turned them off… shrink into a tiny dot of light.

But before it winked out, it flashed and expanded. It did so at an alarmingly fast rate and solidified into the form of a woman. She looked to be in her early to mid thirties, dark curly hair… definitely a local Sicilian. When she became “whole” and a solid image, she began shrieking and pounding on the glass doors with both fists. Her head swiveled wrong on her neck, shaking back and forth like if you put a teakettle on a stick and shook the stick around. Her eyes were completely black and full of anger and hatred… The skin around her mouth flapped loosely, giving me glimpses of her teeth and tongue and her hair was tossing around violently. Some sort of liquid oozed in small spurts from the corners of her mouth and flecks of whatever it was flew as she shrieked. Her screaming was horrific and nonsensical, and all I could do was scream back. My dad charged into the room to my bed, thinking I was having a nightmare. She shrank back from the door and… ugh. She slithered down the drain somehow. She twisted and distorted and I’d swear I could hear her bones splintering and cracking as she wound herself down into it. It was awful and to this day, dad says he’s never heard anyone scream so inhumanly before. I often ask him jokingly if he meant from me or her.

[Malignantly Narcissistic]

Blissful Squall

Meh...It dies, comes back, dies, comes back, dies...etc.
Like a zombie.
--------



I slept fine last night. Didn’t sleep so well Sunday though. It was my own fault, really. I did tell him he was welcome in if he pleased.

My dream began like one of those horror games you might see, like Silent Hill or Alone in the Dark. It was night out, and almost pitch black. I was holed up in some building, hiding from something. Or waiting. I peeked out; the door was glass and had some rule stickers on it. I suppose I was in a corner store. Upon looking out, I see a deserted street, lighted by a few dim streetlamps. The street was dead empty, dead silent. I seemed to be in the middle of a city… yet there was nothing.

I tentatively opened the door, creeping out into the cold night. Ever have on of those dreams where you can feel what’s happening? This was one of those dreams. I turned left out the door and began walking. The street was sloped, and I was going down. Suddenly I stopped in front of a building. Looking to my left at it, it seemed like a small house. Not one like you’d see in the city. It was in shambles, a light grey blue color. I felt the need to go in, to see the inside. I crept up to the door and turned the handle.

Opening the door, I looked in. There wasn’t much but a few boxes, a table, and a bed. I moved silently towards the bed. On it slept a person. I glared down at her for a few moments, her sleeping figure taunting me. I bent down, picked up an object, and swing.

The brick ensured that she would not wake up soon. Dropping the bloody, hair-matted brick, a message flashed through my mind, clear as day, a dark, deep, raspy voice speaking through my mind. “The sinew will sew together the darkness and damnation.” I only know of one kind of sinew; it’s the stuff inside of you, connected to your muscles and bones, that let you move the way you can. Looking over to the table, I saw the moonlight glinting off something. I walked over and there sat a knife, placed perfectly in the center, the blade facing away from me. He knew I was coming. He knew he could tell me to do this. He knew I would oblige.

I picked up the knife and walked back over to the unconscious form in the bed before me. Her blonde hair was spilled out around her, her head bleeding profusely. I feel now as though I recognized her… but I can’t be sure. I tore the sheet off of her and brought the knife down to her, stripping her flesh from bone, until he muscles were all visible. I began grabbing at the sinew, slicing at it, and piled it all up. Once I’d gathered all I could, I began wrapping it around itself. It formed a blindfold.

I put it on, and all was black. Until the darkness was filled with an image. A house far off, silhouetted against the night sky. Atop it was a figure, and a dog. The dog howled, and the figure turned towards me. His tattered cowl flapped in a soundless wind. His blazing eyes bored into me, the blood red beads that were his pupils boring into my soul. He grinned at me, knowing he’d just gotten one step closer to corruption. I began calling him. Like in many dreams, there were things I could not control; my voice was strained, and even though I shouted as loud and hard as I could, the sound traveled mere feet. I woke up soon after that, feeling as though I had not slept at all.

And I knew I hadn’t. That wasn’t sleep. He’d brought me into his world. He’d done so many times before, and he’d watched what I did as I was placed in a deserted carnival, in a school of ravenous creatures waiting to devour me and my closest friend. He’s there sometimes, my friend, but I think I know why. I think he’s sick too.

I looked around and knew where I’d been. I knew what I’d seen. “The sinew will sew together darkness and damnation.” And it had. He’d shown himself to me. He was no longer what he’d been. A shapeless shadow. A shadow with eyes. One with a cowl and a demon grin. One who’s eyes glowed hot with flames. One who spoke to me, and caressed my face with clawed, shadowed hands.

No.

He has a shape now. He’s real. He’s come so far there’s no way I can get rid of him now. He needs a vessel, and he’s chosen me.

Besides, everyone is a little sick, even if they don’t want to believe it.

I've been stalking this thread for quite some time now. *Cough* Lol. *Points to this one* There's a reason this one's so bad. I wrote that

[goofygoofball125]

i hate scary stories, movies, everything.