|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 12:05 pm
I might actually post something true later. This story is from an old collection of horror stories I wrote when I was, like, 11. c: It's not, like, "I can't sleep tonight this is so real!" scary, but it's kinda eerie I guess. Just remember there are actual delusional people out there like this. ;D
It played in my head like an old silent movie.
"Go open it," my mother urged.
I love remembering these things. In my memories I can see everything clearly. In my memories I can see myself as I wish myself to be. If I try hard enough, I can even change them.
I looked outside. Everything was white and everything was black. Feeling satisfied with such a simple sight, I turned back and looked down at my hands.
"Open it." she repeated cheerily. There was a present in front of me, underneath my hands. It was Christmas and I was opening my one and only present. I was six then.
With a simple tug, the ribbon tied around the box came undone. After tearing off the paper in frenzy, I reached inside and pulled out a mask. Not your normal scary, gory, Halloween mask; a beautiful mask of a pure white face, this year wearing a smile.
"For your collection!" my mother added excitedly.
My collection. I had so many masks littering my walls. One for each emotion. And now, I had the mask for happiness.
That was the first time I ever smiled.
"Good night," Mom spoke warmly as she slowly shut the door. The walls surrounding me were covered in masks, all looking at me in different ways. I wasn't scared, though. In fact, they calmed me, and I quickly drifted to sleep.
When I opened my eyes, I was at the kitchen table.Today was supposed to be an important day. It was my fifteenth birthday and I didn't see my mother anywhere. I quickly wandered to her room. Noticing she was still asleep even though her alarm clock had passed the time in which it had been assigned to ring, I shook her shoulder. No luck.
I began to smell cake as the smell drifted from the kitchen. It smelled burnt. In fact, everything smelled burnt. I felt the room suddenly envelope in flames around me and my mother still wouldn't wake up. Quickly, I collected my masks and left.
I watched emptily as those captive memories burned away and my house became nothing but ashes. I wasn't scared, though.
I had never gotten the mask of fear.
A friend of my mother's took me in out of pity, setting my things in the room that used to belong to her deceased daughter. I immediately decorated the walls with my only possessions; my masks. Her other daughter said I was creepy, that she was scared of me.
After I finished unpacking, I went to sleep.
When I woke up, I could hear bare branches scraping against the window like fingernails. The leaves that were on the branches were dry and ready to fall off.
"It's time to leave," shouted my mother's friend from the first floor. "Don't get into any trouble!" I couldn't remember where they were going that night.
As I pondered to myself the possible locations they could be heading to, I noticed the sounds of people outside. Kids, laughing. The smell of candy drifted into the room from the open window on the other side of the room.
Curiously, I slid out the window and wandered the streets for the first time on my own in years. Kids were bumping into me, dropping their candy all over the streets. I decided to follow one that had knocked me over.
It seemed he was finished getting candy and was heading home, but that didn't stop me. After he hung up his hat that had been part of a costume, he turned around and screamed at me. There was an intruder in his house. One he didn't know. One with a knife.
I wanted his mask.
Just as I finished carving it out for myself, I heard heavy footsteps entering in behind me. The loading of a gun, and loud shouting, telling me to drop my weapon and hold my hands in the air. I quickly obeyed, wondering what was going on. Much to my dismay, they stole away my mask, right out of my hands. I felt them lift me up and drag me outside, throwing me into a car, and slamming the door behind. During the long ride to wherever they were taking me, I fell asleep.
I'm waking up again now, in my own assigned room. It's been customized just for me. The solitary room, I haven't seen anyone but the ones who serve me food. They never did give me back my mask, and raised their voices when I asked for it back. It's okay now, though.
It was all a dream, after all. And when they let me out of here, I'll show my mother my new face. I'll actually see her for the first time.
And together, we'll find my missing mask.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 12:06 pm
Mr. Widemouth
Originally posted by Azekual in Horror Inc.
During my childhood my family was like a drop of water in a vast river, never remaining in one location for long. We settled in Rhode Island when I was eight, and there we remained until I went to college in Colorado Springs. Most of my memories are rooted in Rhode Island, but there are fragments in the attic of my brain which belong to the various homes we had lived in when I was much younger.
Most of these memories are unclear and pointless– chasing after another boy in the back yard of a house in North Carolina, trying to build a raft to float on the creek behind the apartment we rented in Pennsylvania, and so on. But there is one set of memories which remains as clear as glass, as though they were just made yesterday. I often wonder whether these memories are simply lucid dreams produced by the long sickness I experienced that Spring, but in my heart, I know they are real.
We were living in a house just outside the bustling metropolis of New Vineyard, Maine, population 643. It was a large structure, especially for a family of three. There were a number of rooms that I didn’t see in the five months we resided there. In some ways it was a waste of space, but it was the only house on the market at the time, at least within an hour’s commute to my father’s place of work.
The day after my fifth birthday (attended by my parents alone), I came down with a fever. The doctor said I had mononucleosis, which meant no rough play and more fever for at least another three weeks. It was horrible timing to be bed-ridden– we were in the process of packing our things to move to Pennsylvania, and most of my things were already packed away in boxes, leaving my room barren. My mother brought me ginger ale and books several times a day, and these served the function of being my primary from of entertainment for the next few weeks. Boredom always loomed just around the corner, waiting to rear its ugly head and compound my misery.
I don’t exactly recall how I met Mr. Widemouth. I think it was about a week after I was diagnosed with mono. My first memory of the small creature was asking him if he had a name. He told me to call him Mr. Widemouth, because his mouth was large. In fact, everything about him was large in comparison to his body– his head, his eyes, his crooked ears– but his mouth was by far the largest.
“You look kind of like a Furby,” I said as he flipped through one of my books.
Mr. Widemouth stopped and gave me a puzzled look. “Furby? What’s a Furby?” he asked.
I shrugged. “You know… the toy. The little robot with the big ears. You can pet and feed them, almost like a real pet.”
“Oh.” Mr. Widemouth resumed his activity. “You don’t need one of those. They aren’t the same as having a real friend.”
I remember Mr. Widemouth disappearing every time my mother stopped by to check in on me. “I lay under your bed,” he later explained. “I don’t want your parents to see me because I’m afraid they won’t let us play anymore.”
We didn’t do much during those first few days. Mr. Widemouth just looked at my books, fascinated by the stories and pictures they contained. The third or fourth morning after I met him, he greeted me with a large smile on his face. “I have a new game we can play,” he said. “We have to wait until after your mother comes to check on you, because she can’t see us play it. It’s a secret game.”
After my mother delivered more books and soda at the usual time, Mr. Widemouth slipped out from under the bed and tugged my hand. “We have to go the the room at the end of this hallway,” he said. I objected at first, as my parents had forbidden me to leave my bed without their permission, but Mr. Widemouth persisted until I gave in.
The room in question had no furniture or wallpaper. Its only distinguishing feature was a window opposite the doorway. Mr. Widemouth darted across the room and gave the window a firm push, flinging it open. He then beckoned me to look out at the ground below.
We were on the second story of the house, but it was on a hill, and from this angle the drop was farther than two stories due to the incline. “I like to play pretend up here,” Mr. Widemouth explained. “I pretend that there is a big, soft trampoline below this window, and I jump. If you pretend hard enough you bounce back up like a feather. I want you to try.”
I was a five-year-old with a fever, so only a hint of skepticism darted through my thoughts as I looked down and considered the possibility. “It’s a long drop,” I said.
“But that’s all a part of the fun. It wouldn’t be fun if it was only a short drop. If it were that way you may as well just bounce on a real trampoline.”
I toyed with the idea, picturing myself falling through thin air only to bounce back to the window on something unseen by human eyes. But the realist in me prevailed. “Maybe some other time,” I said. “I don’t know if I have enough imagination. I could get hurt.”
Mr. Widemouth’s face contorted into a snarl, but only for a moment. Anger gave way to disappointment. “If you say so,” he said. He spent the rest of the day under my bed, quiet as a mouse.
The following morning Mr. Widemouth arrived holding a small box. “I want to teach you how to juggle,” he said. “Here are some things you can use to practice, before I start giving you lessons.”
I looked in the box. It was full of knives. “My parents will kill me!” I shouted, horrified that Mr. Widemouth had brought knives into my room– objects that my parents would never allow me to touch. “I’ll be spanked and grounded for a year!”
Mr. Widemouth frowned. “It’s fun to juggle with these. I want you to try it.”
I pushed the box away. “I can’t. I’ll get in trouble. Knives aren’t safe to just throw in the air.”
Mr. Widemouth’s frown deepend into a scowl. He took the box of knives and slid under my bed, remaining there the rest of the day. I began to wonder how often he was under me.
I started having trouble sleeping after that. Mr. Widemouth often woke me up at night, saying he put a real trampoline under the window, a big one, one that I couldn’t see in the dark. I always declined and tried to go back to sleep, but Mr. Widemouth persisted. Sometimes he stayed by my side until early in the morning, encouraging me to jump.
He wasn’t so fun to play with anymore.
My mother came to me one morning and told me I had her permission to walk around outside. She thought the fresh air would be good for me, especially after being confined to my room for so long. Exstatic, I put on my sneakers and trotted out to the back porch, yearning for the feeling of sun on my face.
Mr. Widemouth was waiting for me. “I have something I want you to see,” he said. I must have given him a weird look, because he then said, “It’s safe, I promise.”
I followed him to the beginning of a deer trail which ran through the woods behind the house. “This is an important path,” he explained. “I’ve had a lot of friends about your age. When they were ready, I took them down this path, to a special place. You aren’t ready yet, but one day, I hope to take you there.”
I returned to the house, wondering what kind of place lay beyond that trail.
Two weeks after I met Mr. Widemouth, the last load of our things had been packed into a moving truck. I would be in the cab of that truck, sitting next to my father for the long drive to Pennsylvania. I considered telling Mr. Widemouth that I would be leaving, but even at five years old, I was beginning to suspect that perhaps the creature’s intentions were not to my benefit, despite what he said otherwise. For this reason, I decided to keep my departure a secret.
My father and I were in the truck at 4 a.m. He was hoping to make it to Pennyslvania by lunch time tomorrow with the help of an endless supply of coffee and a six-pack of energy drinks. He seemed more like a man who was about to run a marathon rather than one who was about to spend two days sitting still.
“Early enough for you?” he asked.
I nodded and placed my head against the window, hoping for some sleep before the sun came up. I felt my father’s hand on my shoulder. “This is the last move, son, I promise. I know it’s hard for you, as sick as you’ve been. Once daddy gets promoted we can settle down and you can make friends.”
I opened my eyes as we backed out of the driveway. I saw Mr. Widemouth’s silouhette in my bedroom window. He stood motionless until the truck was about to turn onto the main road. He gave a pitiful little wave good-bye, steak knife in hand. I didn’t wave back.
Years later, I returned to New Vineyard. The piece of land our house stood upon was empty except for the foundation, as the house burned down a few years after my family left. Out of curiosity, I followed the deer trail that Mr. Widemouth had shown me. Part of me expected him to jump out from behind a tree and scare the living bejeesus out of me, but I felt that Mr. Widemouth was gone, somehow tied to the house that no longer existed.
The trail ended at the New Vineyard Memorial Cemetery.
I noticed that many of the tombstones belonged to children.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 12:38 pm
A many stories from Horror Inc., eh? XD
A Warning
Originally posted by Azekual in the guild Horror Inc.
I’m doing this for you. And for Mike, too, I guess, though I don’t think there’s much I can do to help him at this point.
I suppose I should provide some background information first. I’m a sophomore in a fairly good university in Boston - no, not MIT or Harvard, but still one that’s a bit of a chore to get into. My freshman year, I had the option to live in honors housing and decided to roll with it; after all, at least the people would be interesting. Whatever arcane algorithm they use to process roommate requests took in my preferences and spat out the name of my future roommate: Mike, just another random honors kid from St. Louis. The two of us got along fine for most of freshman year - my enjoyment of Miley Cyrus notwithstanding-and so we decided to room together sophomore year as well.
Now, Mike had always been a pretty obsessive guy. He tended to bounce around in his interests; one week, he would devour entire series of anime, only to later start watching random online episodes of Mystery Science Theater 3000, and then begin working his way through the archives of the hottest new webcomic. And, of course, like any real obsessive, he would keep me posted on his latest craze. I humored him; what else are roommates for?
One day earlier this week, he started telling me random scary stories. You know, those random things you find on message boards-I think his main source ended up being some site called “creepypasta” (I never understood why pasta could be creepy, but whatever). I’d hear about a med student eating an arm, or someone being autopsied alive, or some random youtube video that will drive you insane. We usually had a good laugh about them.
The third day of this obsession, however, things got weird. He threw a few more stories my way before hitting the sack, but something seemed a little off. His voice had a sharp edge to it. As the hour got later, his banter got more and more inane, as though he were talking just to stave off having to go to sleep. Eventually, I pointedly got into my bed and rolled over, effectively ending any further chance at conversation. I wish I hadn’t.
I sleep like a log, and that night was no exception. I don’t think I even came close to waking. Usually I can’t remember any of my dreams, but the nightmare I had that night has been clear in my mind for days now. I dreamt I was trapped in a fog so dense I couldn’t see my hand in front of my face. The damp air sent chills down my spine. I could hear muffled screams in the distance. There didn’t seem to be any words, just guttural shrieks of pain. Instantly (don’t ask me how), I recognized the screams as Mike’s. I tried my best to run to him, but my feet just slid through the fog; I couldn’t get any real traction on the ground, if there indeed was any ground. The screams got further away and more indistinct, though I could still tell they were Mike’s. Eventually, they faded to nothing and I woke up.
And every last trace of Mike was gone from the room.
Everything. His laptop, his sheets, the “Official Zombie Survival” guide poster on the wall, the heap of trash he let accumulate on his half of the windowsill-everything. A thick layer of dust coated his entire side of the room. Absolutely nothing on my side of the room had been touched-nor had any of his stuff in the bathroom, the kitchen, or the living room of our suite. Only in the bedroom had anything been taken.
I couldn’t believe it. I prayed it was a dream. I pinched my elbow until the skin was red, until my fingernails drew blood. When I didn’t wake up, I dialed campus security, who quickly brought in the Boston Police Department. I was immediately kicked out of the room so they could go over everything with a fine-toothed comb.
I think I must have been in shock. I felt completely numb, like nothing around me really mattered. I’d left my laptop out in our suite’s common room, so I used that to distract myself-or to try to, at any rate. When I popped open the laptop, however, a word document stared at me. Its text was the following:
‘I know this is stupid. I can’t help but think how much I’ll regret this in the morning, but for some reason I’m genuinely scared and I feel like this is the only way I can tell someone why. So here goes: earlier, I was scouring the ‘net for short horror stories-you know, rituals, tales of scary places, and the like. I came across this…warning, I guess it was. I won’t say what, and I won’t say where, for fear of you finding it yourself. Suffice it to say it sent chills down my spine, something not much has managed to do. Still, as has become my habit, I just clicked on the next hyperlink, going ever farther down the rabbit hole.
The warning stayed with me, though. In the back of my head, just nibbling away, waiting until I would focus on something else to rear its ugly head. This was irrational, I knew; my mind was just playing tricks on me. Some ancestral fear had been played upon, some age-old nightmare that was just that-a nightmare, no more and no less. But that didn’t make the fear go away. Only when I looked at the clock to see how long I had until you got back that it dawned on me I had passed the time alloted me by the warning to stop what was coming (any vagueness is out of concern for you, I promise).
And then the real anxiety kicked in. My palms started to sweat, and my eyes refused to stay closed for more than a second at a time. All my hairs stood on end, and I could feel my heart rate start to increase. Instantly, I knew that the warning had been real. And I had failed to heed it. My time was limited.
It was about then that you got back from the TV station. I was so glad to see someone else, I can’t imagine how I sounded. Finally, someone to fight off the dark with, a companion against the now terrifying night. But clearly you weren’t interested; your yawns were a dead giveaway. You headed to bed, and I (to stave off sleep a little longer) decided to write you this. Do me a favor - if I’m wrong, forget this ever happened. If I’m right…warn them.’
So that’s what I’m doing. I’m warning you. Just be careful. Next time you go on an archive binge at creepypasta, or start checking the horror thread of your favorite discussion board, or even just try googling “creepy stories,” if you feel a chill run down your spine at some warning you’ve never read before you might want to heed it. If you decide not to, however - if you just click on your merry way-please tell Mike I’m sorry I couldn’t get to him in the fog.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 12:54 pm
(im making this up as i go along XD)
Beth
Theres a girl who randomly showed up at my school. She wears gothic or victorian outfits,sometimes with top hats. Her hair, i realized later, liked to alter length and color....It doesnt sound that scary, untl you notice that yesterday, she had hair that barly touched her ears, and today, her hair was waist length. Her eyes changed as well. Not everyday, but every week. Most suspect contacts and wigs. I flow with that crowd.
Her name is Beth. She just moved here. Very strange girl indeed. She's been here for a month, and no one has even said 'Hi' to her yet. Today, she came in late. I walked up to her after class, being brave. I told her hello, and she said hello back.
Strange, her nose looks larger than usual...
We talk. She told me i have beautiful skin. We became friends. She sometimes comes over to my house when my parents are home and alters my dresses to match her style.
I dont mind.
We've been friends for at least 2 months now. She always tells me that i have lovely facal and body features. She usually complements my skin. I feel flattered, but now, its starting to creep me out.
Students have been going missing...
I talked to her today...i swear that her lips were smaller....
The next day, i saw on the news that a girl that went to my school was found dead next to a river. Her eyes were missing...
I've seen her before. She had the most beautiful blue eyes ever. As blue as the ocean.
I shivered, going to school. I walked up to Beth, sitting next to her. She turned around and looked at me with a big smile.
She had ocean blue eyes....
She asked me to come over to her house today after school. EXACTLY after school. I heisitantly said yes, thinking that the eyes were a coencidents. Contacts come in many colors.....right?
We departed school. I took out my phone to call my parents. Beth fell over on me, my phone falling into a puddle. "oops! I'm so sorry!" She said.
I don't think she was....
We got to her house. It was huge and creepy. She got out of her car and so did i. She grabbed my arms kind of harshly with a wide smile on her face. "You have such beautiful skin." She said kind of creepily. She practically drug me into her house. She literally threw me in. I looked around and shreiked in horror.
Body parts in jars. Skin hanging off of string like clothes. Scalps with hair on tables. A whole wall full of eyes. And dead bodies in a cornor...some of them, school mates....and one of them....
My mother.
I scremed and cried as the door slammed behind me, Beth, a crazy face of a killer plastered on her face. Now I know why her appearance changed so often.
"W-why!?" I cried at her.
She walked up to me. I wanted to run, but my legs wouldn't cooperate. She brushed her hand down my face, taking out a knife. "Y-you....have such beautiful skin..." she said, as the knife started cutting down my arm.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 1:30 pm
Ukarii Yushimotto I might actually post something true later. This story is from an old collection of horror stories I wrote when I was, like, 11. c: It's not, like, "I can't sleep tonight this is so real!" scary, but it's kinda eerie I guess. Just remember there are actual delusional people out there like this. ;D It played in my head like an old silent movie.
"Go open it," my mother urged.
I love remembering these things. In my memories I can see everything clearly. In my memories I can see myself as I wish myself to be. If I try hard enough, I can even change them.
I looked outside. Everything was white and everything was black. Feeling satisfied with such a simple sight, I turned back and looked down at my hands.
"Open it." she repeated cheerily. There was a present in front of me, underneath my hands. It was Christmas and I was opening my one and only present. I was six then.
With a simple tug, the ribbon tied around the box came undone. After tearing off the paper in frenzy, I reached inside and pulled out a mask. Not your normal scary, gory, Halloween mask; a beautiful mask of a pure white face, this year wearing a smile.
"For your collection!" my mother added excitedly.
My collection. I had so many masks littering my walls. One for each emotion. And now, I had the mask for happiness.
That was the first time I ever smiled.
"Good night," Mom spoke warmly as she slowly shut the door. The walls surrounding me were covered in masks, all looking at me in different ways. I wasn't scared, though. In fact, they calmed me, and I quickly drifted to sleep.
When I opened my eyes, I was at the kitchen table.Today was supposed to be an important day. It was my fifteenth birthday and I didn't see my mother anywhere. I quickly wandered to her room. Noticing she was still asleep even though her alarm clock had passed the time in which it had been assigned to ring, I shook her shoulder. No luck.
I began to smell cake as the smell drifted from the kitchen. It smelled burnt. In fact, everything smelled burnt. I felt the room suddenly envelope in flames around me and my mother still wouldn't wake up. Quickly, I collected my masks and left.
I watched emptily as those captive memories burned away and my house became nothing but ashes. I wasn't scared, though.
I had never gotten the mask of fear.
A friend of my mother's took me in out of pity, setting my things in the room that used to belong to her deceased daughter. I immediately decorated the walls with my only possessions; my masks. Her other daughter said I was creepy, that she was scared of me.
After I finished unpacking, I went to sleep.
When I woke up, I could hear bare branches scraping against the window like fingernails. The leaves that were on the branches were dry and ready to fall off.
"It's time to leave," shouted my mother's friend from the first floor. "Don't get into any trouble!" I couldn't remember where they were going that night.
As I pondered to myself the possible locations they could be heading to, I noticed the sounds of people outside. Kids, laughing. The smell of candy drifted into the room from the open window on the other side of the room.
Curiously, I slid out the window and wandered the streets for the first time on my own in years. Kids were bumping into me, dropping their candy all over the streets. I decided to follow one that had knocked me over.
It seemed he was finished getting candy and was heading home, but that didn't stop me. After he hung up his hat that had been part of a costume, he turned around and screamed at me. There was an intruder in his house. One he didn't know. One with a knife.
I wanted his mask.
Just as I finished carving it out for myself, I heard heavy footsteps entering in behind me. The loading of a gun, and loud shouting, telling me to drop my weapon and hold my hands in the air. I quickly obeyed, wondering what was going on. Much to my dismay, they stole away my mask, right out of my hands. I felt them lift me up and drag me outside, throwing me into a car, and slamming the door behind. During the long ride to wherever they were taking me, I fell asleep.
I'm waking up again now, in my own assigned room. It's been customized just for me. The solitary room, I haven't seen anyone but the ones who serve me food. They never did give me back my mask, and raised their voices when I asked for it back. It's okay now, though.
It was all a dream, after all. And when they let me out of here, I'll show my mother my new face. I'll actually see her for the first time.
And together, we'll find my missing mask.huh, its scary that u wrote this....because i swear that i heard or read this somewhere.....it sound fimilier.... *shiver*
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 2:49 pm
The Twelve Entries
Written by Vegeta_Lover239 :3
ENTRY ONE:
There's a new boy at my school. He's very handsome, and is very sweet. He helped me pick up my books when I accidently dropped them, and when popular girls pick on me, he tells them to back off. I think he has a thing for me.
But there's something....off about him. I don't know his name, because he doesn't tell me. Whenever I ask, he grins and gets this...strange look in his eye, then walks away. My friends tell me he's just shy, and not to worry about it. I guess it's nothing. I mean, I get nervous around hot guys.
ENTRY TWO:
That guy seems to be everywhere I go! At the supermarket, at the mall, at the park....I think he really does like me! But I've noticed something else. I swear that I've seen him somewhere before. Maybe I knew him in middle school, but we never had contact?
ENTRY THREE:
Today he came over to my house. He saw my sister, Rebecca, and I got this twinge of jealousy when he winked at her. But I shouldn't let it bother me, right?
ENTRY FOUR:
Rebecca is missing. She hasn't come back from the movies, and she won't pick up her cell or answer her text messeges. Daddy says not to worry, but I can tell he's a little shaken as well. I hope she comes back soon....
ENTRY FIVE:
Rebecca still hasn't come home. I'm scared for her. She was last seen kissing a boy who fit the description of him. I was heartbroken, but still concerned over the fact that my sister was gone.
ENTRY SIX:
He came over to my house again today. I tried to close the door in his face, but he came in anyhow. He asked why I was upset with him, and when I told him he was puzzled. I don't get it. Does he like me or not?
ENTRY SEVEN:
He invited me for a sleep over at his apartment. I wanted to decline, but something made me say I'd be there. I'll be going over there soon, just as soon as I finish packing some essentials.
ENTRY EIGHT:
We watch a movie and ate some popcorn. His parents aren't home, so we can stay up as late as we want. As I write this, he's down in the basement. I swear I can hear sounds down there, but maybe he has a cat.
ENTRY NINE:
We're settling down for the night. This house is very creepy. I'm happy he's here to protect me. But he's a little odd. He keeps feeling my skin and kissing my neck. I guess it's just his way of expressing his feelings for me....
ENTRY TEN:
What have I gotten myself into? He returned to the basement this morning, and I followed him to see what he would do. I saw so many terrible objects down there. Items I don't feel comfortable explaining. And then I heard a kind of, I want to say, slurping sound. I looked in the direction it was coming from, and he was bent over the corpse of my sister, Rebecca. He was drinking her blood from her neck. I held back a scream and silently ran back upstairs. I'm getting my stuff and going home. He tricked me. He's a vampire!
ENTRY ELEVEN:
In my attempt to run, I found the door locked. I felt him wrap his arms around me from behind, and he asked me where I was going. I told him I was leaving, and he just told me that I'd never go home!! He said the next time I tried to escape, he'd kill me. And then he took me to his bedroom. I don't know what to do.
ENTRY TWELVE:
It's been a week since I entered this hell. He tells me he loves me, and that inside I enjoy it, but I'm deaf to his lies. I've discovered his name: Jake Evon, a man wanted for rape and murder of many women. The only way out is death. He knows that. Rebecca wasn't able to last a day, he says. She tried to run, knowing he'd kill her, and he did. He's reading over my shoulder right now. Goodbye, world. And goodbye, vampire who made my life hell from the moment I--
(The rest of the diary is splattered in blood, and unreadable)
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 6:17 pm
Uchihas_blackrose Ukarii Yushimotto I might actually post something true later. This story is from an old collection of horror stories I wrote when I was, like, 11. c: It's not, like, "I can't sleep tonight this is so real!" scary, but it's kinda eerie I guess. Just remember there are actual delusional people out there like this. ;D It played in my head like an old silent movie.
"Go open it," my mother urged.
I love remembering these things. In my memories I can see everything clearly. In my memories I can see myself as I wish myself to be. If I try hard enough, I can even change them.
I looked outside. Everything was white and everything was black. Feeling satisfied with such a simple sight, I turned back and looked down at my hands.
"Open it." she repeated cheerily. There was a present in front of me, underneath my hands. It was Christmas and I was opening my one and only present. I was six then.
With a simple tug, the ribbon tied around the box came undone. After tearing off the paper in frenzy, I reached inside and pulled out a mask. Not your normal scary, gory, Halloween mask; a beautiful mask of a pure white face, this year wearing a smile.
"For your collection!" my mother added excitedly.
My collection. I had so many masks littering my walls. One for each emotion. And now, I had the mask for happiness.
That was the first time I ever smiled.
"Good night," Mom spoke warmly as she slowly shut the door. The walls surrounding me were covered in masks, all looking at me in different ways. I wasn't scared, though. In fact, they calmed me, and I quickly drifted to sleep.
When I opened my eyes, I was at the kitchen table.Today was supposed to be an important day. It was my fifteenth birthday and I didn't see my mother anywhere. I quickly wandered to her room. Noticing she was still asleep even though her alarm clock had passed the time in which it had been assigned to ring, I shook her shoulder. No luck.
I began to smell cake as the smell drifted from the kitchen. It smelled burnt. In fact, everything smelled burnt. I felt the room suddenly envelope in flames around me and my mother still wouldn't wake up. Quickly, I collected my masks and left.
I watched emptily as those captive memories burned away and my house became nothing but ashes. I wasn't scared, though.
I had never gotten the mask of fear.
A friend of my mother's took me in out of pity, setting my things in the room that used to belong to her deceased daughter. I immediately decorated the walls with my only possessions; my masks. Her other daughter said I was creepy, that she was scared of me.
After I finished unpacking, I went to sleep.
When I woke up, I could hear bare branches scraping against the window like fingernails. The leaves that were on the branches were dry and ready to fall off.
"It's time to leave," shouted my mother's friend from the first floor. "Don't get into any trouble!" I couldn't remember where they were going that night.
As I pondered to myself the possible locations they could be heading to, I noticed the sounds of people outside. Kids, laughing. The smell of candy drifted into the room from the open window on the other side of the room.
Curiously, I slid out the window and wandered the streets for the first time on my own in years. Kids were bumping into me, dropping their candy all over the streets. I decided to follow one that had knocked me over.
It seemed he was finished getting candy and was heading home, but that didn't stop me. After he hung up his hat that had been part of a costume, he turned around and screamed at me. There was an intruder in his house. One he didn't know. One with a knife.
I wanted his mask.
Just as I finished carving it out for myself, I heard heavy footsteps entering in behind me. The loading of a gun, and loud shouting, telling me to drop my weapon and hold my hands in the air. I quickly obeyed, wondering what was going on. Much to my dismay, they stole away my mask, right out of my hands. I felt them lift me up and drag me outside, throwing me into a car, and slamming the door behind. During the long ride to wherever they were taking me, I fell asleep.
I'm waking up again now, in my own assigned room. It's been customized just for me. The solitary room, I haven't seen anyone but the ones who serve me food. They never did give me back my mask, and raised their voices when I asked for it back. It's okay now, though.
It was all a dream, after all. And when they let me out of here, I'll show my mother my new face. I'll actually see her for the first time.
And together, we'll find my missing mask.huh, its scary that u wrote this....because i swear that i heard or read this somewhere.....it sound fimilier.... *shiver* Whoa, really? I have posted it on multiple different websites. You might have read it on one of those. <3
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 27, 2011 6:43 pm
Coffins
Originally posted by Vanilla eXee in the guild Horror Inc.
By Barry Charman
The first time she dug up the coffin, he’d only been buried a day. She took him back home, and cradled him, singing the songs she had wanted to sing.
The second time was a week later. They came to the house immediately, and they found mother and son on the couch, watching cartoons.
The third time was months later, she’d moved house by then, so no one knew where to look for her. She had him for a week before a neighbor called the police.
The fourth time it took them a month to find her. The boy was now nothing but a sheet of flesh draped over a pile of pointed bones. She didn’t see. She didn’t care.
They talked to her. They listened to her. The only thing she wanted, she said, was something they kept taking away from her.
The fifth time she was stopped before she started. Someone saw her go into the cemetery, her shovel and torch swinging listlessly from her hands.
Each time she broke the coffin, and a new one was made.
The sixth time, they moved the body. She dug and she dug. In the end she took the shovel to the policeman who was first on the scene. He lay stunned from the first blow, then she brought the shovel down and dug into him. She dug through his flesh, and his blood and his bones. She may have heard him scream, she may not.
She was in the institution for ten years. Every time she could, she would fall to her knees, and claw at the ground. It had taken something from her. It had it still.
She would call out his name. She would dissect his name. She would replay his words, she would hear them still.
They would tell her about the accident. They would explain over and over again. She saw them, but she couldn’t focus, she was focused on only one thing.
Eventually they left her to her silence. The silence would tell them whatever they wanted to hear.
When no one was looking, she mouthed his name.
Silence meant whatever you heard.
The seventh time she dug up his coffin came a year after her release. It took her that long to find the body. She left the coffin in pieces, and took the body home. It fell apart as she took it to the car, but she would stop and pick up the pieces, she didn’t say a word or make a sound.
The policeman who found her did so on a hunch. He found her living not far from the cemetery, in a flat that overlooked the grave it had taken her a terrible year to find.
She let him in. She made him coffee. They didn’t talk. Words were unnecessary, inappropriate. She showed him the body in the small bed. He noticed the new-paint smell, the brightly colored cars on the curtains. They sat in the kitchen. Drinking. Thinking.
Eventually he got up and left. They never exchanged a word. He never told a soul.
There was no putting it right. No treatment for raw and endless love.
Let it be, he thought. There’s enough pain, enough death.
And there were only so many coffins.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Jan 29, 2011 2:34 pm
Russian Sleep Experiment
Originally posted by __X__Naomi__X__ in the guild Horror Inc.
Russian researchers in the late 1940's kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.
The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during world war II.
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:47 No.2052750
>>2052748
Everything was fine for the first 5 days, the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.
After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:48 No.2052755
>>2052750
After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the lenght of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.
So did the whispering to the microphones.
After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.
They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the doors and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."
To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:49 No.2052758
>>2052755
Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.
The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'
The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:49 No.2052761
>>2052758
The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.
Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...
To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:50 No.2052766
>>2052761
In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.
The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...
The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:51 No.2052768
>>2052766
The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.
When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple "Keep cutting."
The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.
Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:52 No.2052772
>>2052768
All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.
In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:54 No.2052781
>>2052772
The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.
He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"
>> The Russian Sleep Experiment Orange Soda 05/28/09(Thu)15:54 No.2052782
>>2052781
The subject smiled.
"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you." "We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind." "We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."
The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired.
The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out "so... nearly... free..."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Feb 01, 2011 8:21 am
Creepy Sonic
By Vegeta_Lover239. Entry on Gamefaqs created by MissingMyHead.
I'll tell you straight out right now:
THIS IS NOT REALLY A STORY.
But I'm told it's extremely odd and freaky, so I think it's worthy of this thread(I created it anyhow). I find it interesting in itself that on this strange image, the messege translates to 'Infinitly Fun! Sega Enterprise.'
First off, I'll explain what an Easter Egg is in a video game, incase you don't know. An Easter Egg in a video game(unless it's like, an Easter game where you go around searching for eggs)is a secret the game creators threw in there for fun. One example is on Halo 3, on the first level, there's like, unmoving monkey people if you jump to a certain part of it, that even bleed when you hit them, but other then that, don't do anything.
Well, here's the entry on Creepy Sonic on www.Gamefaqs.com :
Name: Creepy Sonic
Debut: Sonic CD
Gender: Male (In a sense)
Species: Living halloween costume
Age: 16...I guess...
Occupation: FREAK
Quote: "Infinitely fun! Sega Enterprise."
Alignment: I don't know, but I would assume Dark based on his appearance
Description: This is without a doubt the most obscure character in Sonic
history. This includes cancelled characters, upcoming characters, and
region-specific characters. And this guy doesn't even fit any of those
categories. Creepy Sonic is an easter egg within an easter egg in a reasonably
obscure game. Basically, if you unlock the Sound Test easter egg and enter a
certain code you will unlock a bizarre image consisting of a message in
Japanese and a repeating background of the most horrifying image ever to rear
its ugly head in a Sonic game (Not that horrifying, but still. The *most*
horrifying). If you want to see it, you can follow this link:
http://content.ytmnd.com/content/5/7/b/57bbe1df47c346ba5f6a8e455b3c6379.png
Now, it won't give you nightmares or anything, but it's not the kind of
thing you'd wallpaper your 3-year old son's bedroom with. Also, I assume the
easter egg is in the PC version and Gems Collection, but if I'm wrong,
please notify me.
I have recently found a translation for the message. When translated, it
reads "Infinitely fun! Sega Enterprise." Ironically, monkeytail565 e-mailed
me with an idea on the translation THE DAY I got it. Oh, well, thanks
anyway, monkeytail!
CREEPY SONIC'S NONPLAYABLE APPEARANCES
-Sonic CD
-Sonic Gems Collection
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Feb 05, 2011 12:08 pm
Vegeta_Lover239 The Message
Originally posted by _X_Naomi_X_ in the guild Horror Inc.
Don’t dismiss this outright as the work of some raving lunatic. There’s some sense to this story, if you’ll just hear me out…
Look, we all wonder if time travel is possible, right? Well, let me tell you something… it is. I’m from the future, actually. I know you probably don’t believe that, but seriously, I’m from the future. It’s a really great thing; getting to see the past, watching events unfold… stuff like that. We know more now than we ever would.
Behind all the fun, though, there’s a more serious aspect. We aren’t supposed to go in our own lifetime, and we are NEVER allowed to contact our past selves. Let me tell you, I’m breaking that rule right now. Yes, kid, you’re talking to yourself. Your future self. I’m going to be executed for this, but you know what? I accept that. I’m preventing something by talking to you that is WORSE than death. I can’t tell you outright what to do, because the filters would catch it. This is the closest I can get, trust me. I can, however, send a little message.
You should probably read the first word of every paragraph, now. Crap, I looked... eek
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Mar 01, 2011 11:51 am
The Chain-Letter Murderer
Thanks to Queen of Horrors, who posted what she could remember of this chain-mail in the guild of Horror Inc.
Chain-mails. Those annoying things that clog up your E-mail, PM inbox, Comments, ect. They blabber on about if you don't post this, you'll die, or if you post this, your wish will come true....Crap like that.
However, there was one chainmail that wasn't complete nonsense....
Two girls were home alone, and got a message on one of the girls' E-mail.
It said: "I C that ur home alone "
They got freaked out, but just deleted it and checked the other E-mails.
After returning to the main page, they found they had another message from him.
This one said: " Stop pretending, I am looking at you right now. "
They jerked and looked around, and heard a thump on the window around the corner. The girls got scared, and ran from the room, going to their bedrooms. They turned off the light and hurried into the closet. It was a long, dark closet, which they went to the back of. Then they heard breathing behind them.
The next morning the two girls were found in that closet, headless.
But do you want to know what made it so scary if you recieved this chain-mail?
It was real. Everytime someone got it, it was sent by a phsyco named Spencer Jones, who killed the reciever. The police called him the Chain-Mail Murderer. They caught him in 2002.
If you get a Chain-Mail, just delete it. It's probably trash. But this is just a little thing to think about....
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat Mar 12, 2011 3:40 pm
Beware The Oujia
(Originally posted by Vanilla eXee in the guild Horror Inc., and apparently originally originally posted-before she reposted it-by kato-han)
Thanks to Parker Brothers(game company), many young people have dabbled in the paranormal and have experienced frightening results. Remember being a teenager and the mention of the Ouija board provoked your curiosity. There is not much talk about the Ouija board today, but I will never forget the stories of sheer terror, my friends shared with me as a result of using the infamous Ouija board. Stories I have kept to myself, until now are revealed in this creepy dark article.
I was watching Unexplained Mysteries late one night and the narrator was talking about the movie, "The Entity". The Entity(1981 horror movie) is a movie about paranormal phenomenon, where alleged victim Carla Moran(fictional character) was attacked by a number of unseen forces. The Unexplained Mysteries show delved into what took place in the home of this woman, who claimed she was being attacked by mad crazed ghosts. Pictures were shown on the show where spherical orbs were flying around the room and I noticed something in the pictures, that was not discussed on the show!
Normally, Unexplained Mysteries does not miss a detail as crucial to a case, as this one! I am very skeptical about these shows, but yet the pictures had some convincing photography. What caught my eye and you could barely see the image in the bottom of the picture, was a Ouija board! You actually see a part of the board in the photograph! How in the world could this slip the eyes of the staff at Unexplained Mysteries! I've studied photographs of so-called paranormal phenomenon and the ghostly pictures on the show, were the best I have seen yet.
The paranormal investigators were focused on the spherical orbs darting around the room, as the woman held the deadly Ouija board on her lap. Fortunately, they did show a picture of the woman with a deadly Ouija board, that proved she was not just laying around in bed and then being attacked by angry ghosts. This woman was playing with fire and bringing paranormal investigators in to see some out of this world ghostly activity.
I think it is hilarious for people to say there is violent paranormal activity in their house and overlook the fact, they were reaching out to the dead through a Ouija board! Even in the movie "The Exorcist", a young girl is using a Ouija board and her mother never attributes an entity attacking her daughter, as a result of playing with the Ouija board. The response to such ghostly attacks is cute little innocent Regan(Exorcist girl) was sensitive to the spirit realm.
The lady who was photographed with orbs flying around the room was looked at, as paranormally sensitive to the unseen. What makes my head spin with green pea soup vomiting from my earthly soul, is no one has brought up the possibilities of the Ouija board opening doors to such violent ghostly chaos. In the above instances of violent insane paranormal activity, no one ever mentions or associates the Ouija board as being apart of the horrific equation.
I will never forget my relative Lance sharing with me his experience with a Ouija board. He stated that he got in touch with a spirit, who was in hell and he use to be an Egyptian king. Another friend said he tried to get rid of his Ouija board and it kept showing up in his bed room. Late one night, he took the Ouija board and built a roaring fire in his backyard. He was told the only way to be rid of the board, was to burn it! He threw the Ouija board into the fire and he said blood-curdling screams came forth from the board, as it was burning. Keep in mind, I was told all of these stories in the mid-1980's when most of my friends were using Ouija boards.
One girl was having a sleep over with a friend and they pulled out the Ouija board for some cheap thrills. The girls asked where this spirit was, they were conversing with and were stunned by the answer! The spirit told the girls it was in the front yard up in a tree with white hair and bright red eyes. The girls almost had a heart attack and they did not look out the window late at night to verify the spirit's statement. This story was well-known throughout my high school back then and I was friends with one of the girls who lived in the house, but never questioned her about this creepy night with the Ouija board. As far as I know, they never touched the ouija board again!
My friend Bryan told me the scariest Ouija board story of them all! Bryan was addicted to the Ouija board and he tried to stop using it by hiding it in his closet. He said a violent force was speaking to him and telling him to bring the board out of the closet. He said this voice tormented him everyday and would not leave him alone. Being threatened by the board he would not speak any further about the subject. I do not know how he got rid of it or how he is doing mentally today. I have heard nothing but creepy and horrific stories about the Ouija board, which makes me believe there may be some truth to these eerie Ouija board stories.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sat May 07, 2011 3:18 pm
~~ Guardian Angel
Originally posted by Calelith in the Lifestyle Discussion forum, Supernatural section
I am always with you.
I was there from the time you were born. I stood in the delivery room, staring down at you before you could even open your eyes to see me. Your parents, relatives and doctors couldn’t see me there, in the corner, watching you with cloudy eyes, but I was there from the time you were born.
And I followed you home.
I was with you always, your constant companion. You played with your toys alone while I stared from all angles in nearby mirrors; my matted, clotted hair with oily sweat that hung off my dented forehead like glue. I was always your constant companion, drifting behind your mother’s car on your ride to preschool. You alone in the bathroom, but I was on the other side of the door, wind whistling through the bruised hole in my throat. My arms twisted and hanging in their sockets as I stood hunched on the other side of the shower curtain. I wait and follow you. I follow and drift behind you.
I’m not seen. I’m almost not-there in light. You never saw me that morning as I sat across from you at the breakfast table, a shiny red clot hanging from an empty tooth socket as I gaped grotesquely at you. I wonder sometimes if you know I’m there. I think you are aware, but you’ll never understand just how close I am.
I spend hours of your day doing nothing more than breathing in your ear.
Breathing – gagging, really.
I crave to be close to you, to always wrap my crippled arms around your neck. I lie near you ever single night, cloudy eyes staring at your ceiling, underneath your bed, at your sleeping face in the dark.
Yes. You caught me staring occasionally. Your parents came running down to your room one night when you screamed. You were just beginning to talk, so you were only able to cry out “Man! Man in my room!” You thought you’d never forget the sight of me, with my collapsed jaw hanging to my chest, swinging back and forth. I sank back into your closet and your mother was unable to see me though you pointed and pointed and pointed. You thought you’d never forget when they left that same night. You saw the closet door crack so softly and me crawling across the floor to your bed on all fours, shambling in jerking movements as I pushed myself under your bed on disjointed limbs.
You learned a new word for me: bogeyman. Not quite the monster you thought I was. I’m just waiting and following you always, touching your face with my knotted fingers as you sleep.
You’ll see me again soon. Any day now, I’m coming, blunt and brutal. One day you’ll walk across the road and – I believe I’ll plow into you with loud roar and a screech.
You rolling on the pavement, rolling under wheels, blunt force metal fenders and my fingers touching your face again and again.
As you stare up from the cold pavement with cloudy eyes; your matted, clotted hair hanging in your face and your jaw unhinged and swinging to your chest.
You’ll see me approaching.
No one else will see me. You will stare past them into my eyes and I’ll leer down at you. For the first time in our life, something like a smile will come over my face. You’ll swear you’re looking into a mirror as clotted red bubbles from our mouths.
I’ll lean down, past the doctors and the ogling people and pick you up in my crooked arms.
Our faces will touch. My wings will unfurl. And then you’ll have to follow me.
And I am always with you.
Your guardian angel. ~~
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2011 8:04 pm
First off you have to understand this is a TRUE story, it DID ACTUALLY happen to me and my friends.
Grade 3 Camp.
Okay so we were at this camp in Queenscliff (A small Australian town near Melbourne) and it was to be my first camp with my primary school. I was slightly excited. Only the whole camp turned out to suck a fair lot. The food was horrible and so was everything else. I think it was the third night in when everything started. I was in our room with one of my other roomates (The rooms fitted about 10 people) when 5 of the other girls came sprinting outta no-where. After asking them what was going on they explained.
Apperently they'd been in the bathroom (which was separte from the rooms, you had to walk down a ramp then across the courtyard to get there) when suddenly one of the dryers came on without warning. Then there was this ear-pearcing cry of pain and a begging voice crying out for help. One of my roomates made the conclusion that maybe someone had actually died there, her hair being caught in the dryer or something. We took our suspicions that the camp was haunted to one of the people who worked there. They, being stubborn adults, laughed off our claims. And shortly after that was when we left camp.
Grade 6 Camp
The thing with our primary school is that we only have three camp destinations. A Melbourne camp where we wander around the city, A Country Camp where they send us out into the bush for a week, and the Queenscliff Camp. Now I was fated to return to this same camp three years later, only a fair lot had changed. This time around the food wasn't so bad and the rooms were much more smaller and only fit 4 people. But the creepiness hadn't dissappeared.
The first things my now friend noticed was that the bathroom, the one where those girls had heard the dryer turn on then the scream, hadn't been knocked down and rebuilt like the rest of the camp had been. Concidence? I think not. We suspected that they couldn't knock it down because it was a crime scene. But we didn't really discuss it that much. I believe, once again, it was the third night in before the creepiness happened again.
It was the dead of night this time around. I was sleeping in the top bunk, across from the door into the small bathroom that connected our room and the next. All of a sudden there was this bright light in my eyes and I sat up. The bathroom light had been turned on and I could hear voices. I looked over the side to see the four girls from the next room in our room. They were crying and looked terrified. My friend asked them what was wrong. So they told us.
They said they'd heard running footsteps and then the voice of a man calling out to what they thought was a young girl. Then they heard more footsteps, like someone skipping on a path and a young girls voice calling out as well, answering the male voice. Either they all had the same dream or it was really happening. This time around we didn't take our suspicions to a camp worker, knowing they'd blow us off again.
But once we left that camp I swore never to go back there again....
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Reply
