People rejoice, I've found new sources for creepy pasta, and whoa, there's a lot more I need to post.
Whenever you chat with friends on the computer, they tell you they see someone walk past behind you in your webcam, even if you always believed you were alone in the room. One day, you decided to leave the cam on, and recording and left for work. You get home, play back the video and see the room. There's no one there. But when you go online, and check on your friends, they tell you that they received instant messages from you telling them, "He thinks he'll catch me, but I'm smarter..."
***
A man was sleeping peacefully one night, when all of a sudden he awoke to a loud crash outside. Simply ignoring the sound, he went back to sleep.
An hour passes and the man continues to sleep. The man then awakens to the sound of scratching on his wall. He procedes to investigate the noise. As soon as the man had taken one step out of his bed he heard something crawl up the wall and onto the ceiling.
Frightened, the man quickly jumped back into bed. Fifteen minutes pass without a sound. Assuming he was just tired, the man tried to fall back asleep. The man turned over in his bed to get comfortable. As he did this he was faced with a pair of snarling jaws.
The man screamed but was quickly silenced...
***
If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique, everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. Actually, there is never, ever, total quiet anywhere on Earth. This sound actually covers something very important. For a persistent individual, one can discern what is under this pitch. The next time you are in such a situation, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then become completely silent all at once. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might catch a snatch of soft murmuring. A special few might clearly make out what they hear on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds later. Such an ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no?
You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch there is for this. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again. Of course this isn't the case, though, its a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, its simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, there's no such thing as a voice lacking a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.
***
It might happen one morning that you wake up home alone. This could be normal depending on your situation, but this morning will be different. While your environment will all seem exactly the same, you?ll notice that everything is quieter than normal. If you go outside, you will notice a distinct lack of anything like birds, insects? or people. As far as you travel, you will not encounter another sentient human being. The entire world will be intact, but empty except for yourself.
There are currently over 100,000 missing persons cases in the United States. Some are just normal cases of murder or kidnappings, but in others, the disappearance cannot be explained and no remains of the person are ever located.
***
A teenage girl, popular, rich, and happy, was walking through a store with her mom and saw a beautiful porcelain doll, which would look great with her collection. She demanded that her mother buy it for her. He mother agreed, and got it for her.
As soon as the girl returned home, she unpacked the doll and set it on a stand above her bed. She then left her room and went out with her friends. When she got home, it was late and she was tired. She went to her room, put on her pajama's and tucked herself into bed.
When she woke up the next morning, she saw a note attached to her lamp beside her bed. It was from her mother, telling her they'd be out of town until next Sunday. She yawned and noticed that her cheek was sore, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She got dressed and went to school.
This went on for a few days until she woke up and her cheek was extremely sore. She decided she'd check it out in a minute or two, then went about her room, picking out what she would wear. She finally decided and walked over to her full body mirror and noticed a large, ugly lump on her cheek.
Figuring it was a pimple, she squeezed it... and felt something moving. All of the sudden, spiders began pulling themselves out of the lump. She screamed, but since there was no one home in her huge house, nobody heard her. She tore at the spiders but there were millions... and she died of the poison in their bites.
Apparently... there was a nest of spiders in the porcelain doll she'd gotten
***
A divorced woman was walking her young girl down the hallway. It was the day that the father could take the girl home. The woman was torn all to pieces about this, and the young girl noticed. The woman and her child arrived at the elevator and when the doors opened, stepped in.
Finally they had reached the floor that the father worked. When the doors opened guess who was standing their, the father. Without saying a word the father took hold of the young girls hand and started to walk away. Suddenly the woman grabbed the girls other hand and tried to pull her back in the elevator.
Unfortunately, the door closed on the girl as her head was jerked into the elevator. The elevator started going down and half of the young girls body was going with it because her mother wouldn't let go and her father wouldn't either, who was still on the second floor.
The young girl was ripped in half when the elevator reached the ground floor.
***
Once, when my father was a young man, he was driving home late one night from work. It was along a New Jersey stretch of road. Passing by a bridge, he glanced over, and saw what appeared to be an old man, dressed in clothing that would have been in the height of fashion in the 1800s, walking along the side of the road.
He brushed it off, thinking he was imagining things. He was driving past a second bridge, and saw the old man again. He was about to drive past the third bridge, when he looked over again, expecting to see the old man outside, on the road.
He was sitting next to him, in the passenger seat.
***
You're sitting at the computer, browsing some of your favorite sites, when you notice a link that seems... out of place. It reads, Whatever you do...
Before you know it, you're dragging the mouse over to the link and clicking on it. The link brings you to a page with a black background with three innocent words written in white text: Don't turn around!
It's barely visible, but in the background of the page you notice an unsettling thing just standing there, staring down.
"Cute," you think to yourself as you turn off the monitor.
Then you realize that thing wasn't a picture. It was a reflection.
***
You're in bed, feeling chilled despite being under the covers. You hear something tap against glass. You look out your window from your pillow, but see nothing. You try to sleep, but are bothered by the sound of something scratching against glass. You look at your window, and see nothing. You're really unnerved now, and you hear the scratching noise again, this time a high pitched screech of something against glass. You hide yourself under your covers, trying to ignore it.
You wake up in the morning, feeling mostly refreshed. You almost forget about the strange noise last night. You look at your window with daylight now, and see nothing unusual.
But in the mirror in your room, the word "Hello" is scratched into the surface.
***
You try to sleep, but the noises keep you awake. It's like something's scratching on wood. And Growling. You tell yourself it's only the wind, and only the trees outside, but the sound goes on. And on. And on.
Finally, you just can't take it. You stand up, turning the lights on. The sound is coming from your front door. You walk into the living room on unsteady legs, and the growling gets louder, the scraping more pronounced, more... vicious. With shaking hands, you reach for the telephone... and the noises stopped. Like they never were there.
For what feels like hours, you stand there with the phone in your hand, waiting for the sounds to begin again. Thy never do. Finally, heart in your throat, unable to stop yourself, you walk to the door. You open it... on the night air.
Nothing. You study the door. It should be almost clawed to pieces, you could have swore you heard the wood start to give. But it's unmarked. You shake your head. Just your imagination. Then you close the door.
The claw marks are on the inside.
***
You come home from work, dead tired. You can barely muster the energy to plod up
the stairs to your bedroom, and leaving the light off, you begin to undress for
bed in the dim light filtering in through the window.
As you pull off your undershirt, you freeze. Your vision was only obscured for a
moment by your shirt, and the gloom makes it hard to see. But you could swear the
furniture in your bedroom has all been moved.
***
You take down a big buck with a beautiful kill shot, and climb down your blind to collect and dress it. When you reach the corpse, it's already been gutted and gnawed into unrecognizability. You only lost sight of it for 30 secs top, and heard nothing.
***
You and your wife have a healthy child. He's a little small, as infants go, and with a unusually oblong skull, but the doctor's assure you that that it is due to pressure from the birth canal and will correct in a couple weeks.
Your wife breast feeds the baby, but he just can't seem to put on weight. Finally she starts sleeping in his bedroom, by the crib, just so that she can be available when he wakes hungry in the night.
This goes on for several weeks, your wife sleeping in the bedroom, tending to your child, before you think anything of it. It's not until you are doing the laundry that something seems odd.
Her nursing bra has blood stains.
You barge into the child's bedroom and before she can cover herself, you see your black-eyed infant, clinging to his mother's skin, gnawing away at the scabbed remains of her breasts.
***
The old closet wasn't remodeled with the rest of the house. It's bare wood and insulation, so no one's had reason to go inside in years. You even set your computer up right in front of the door, figuring there wasn't any reason to go inside.
One night, while you're reading some forum or blog, something pounds on the door three times...from the inside. From where the door buckles, the blows come at about head height.
You don't open the door. You don't even jump. You just look, then go back to the computer. It happens again on other nights, and for some reason, you treat it like nothing special. Every time, you spend the whole day after, scared shitless at exactly why you acted like this was normal.
***
You work late in the morgue, performing the usual autopsy procedure. Checking organ weights, blood levels, etc. You write the numbers on the chart. The body has been dead for awhile, so you are happy to be called away by the telephone. When you get back, the chart has been moved from where you put it down. The weight for the heart has been corrected.
***
(This was awesome for me)
You're reading freaky stories posted by weirdos on an internet forum. As you click 'next' to view the coming page, you realize all the posts now have the 'you's in it substituted with your name. In fact, David realizes they seem to describe David's house and surroundings quite accurately. This last story has David reading scary tales on his PC when...
***
The scariest thing that ever happened to me happened when I was 8 and had just convinced my parents to make give my brother his own room. Now, the two important things to understand before I tell this story are :
1)I was afraid of the dark, so I kept the hall light on all night and my door open
2)I could see the stairs that led to the main floor very clearly from my bed when the door was open.
Now, as I was saying, I had just gotten my brother to sleep in a different room for the first time ever, so I was a little scared. I had just woken up from a bad sleep and was a little groggy, so I sat up and started counting (a trick of my dad's to fall back asleep). I look out the door and see my mom going downstairs. Being 8, I decide to tell her I can't sleep, so I call her. She doesn't answer and goes right down the stairs, so I follow her. She goes around the corner at the bottom of the stairs (still not answering me) and, still following, I look. She isn't there. All the lights downstairs are off. The whole main floor is, presumably, empty. So I run to my parent's room to ask my dad what is going on, and there is my mum, sleeping. I woke her up to ask why she went downstairs and she had no idea what I was talking about.
I went back to my room, very scared and trying to fall back asleep, so I start counting. I look out the door again, and see my mum coming back up the stairs, then she looks at me. I just closed my eyes and couldn't open them for the rest of the night. It is still the most unsettling thing I have ever gone through. I can't even write it without getting chills.
***
In Finland there is an old but still inhabited yellow apartment, situated in a small city near an important railroad. Almost all of the people living there are over 70 years old and in fact it seems that younger people simply won't stay there for longer than a year.
If you live there you will soon notice several unusual things. In the basement the text "TURN ON THE LIGHT. TURN OFF THE LIGHT WHEN YOU LEAVE" is written next to every light switch. It's unusual to remind somebody of something so obvious, but here it is of critical importance.
People who forget something in the basement never return to pick it up. If you offer to go and retrieve it for them they will stop you from doing so.
There is one door there, between some storage doors that has no numbers on it. Instead the door has a worn-out nameplate on it. The people in the flat will tell you to leave that door alone. It is said that people who have peeked in the keyhole have seen very unsettling things.
The wires and pipes in the basement look amazingly old, yet still the house has perfectly functioning water, electricity and phone lines.
The laundry room, which is in the basement, must be reserved if you want to use it. If you go there without reserving a time first you will at first get weird looks and some scolding. Then people will more ominously and angrily warn you.
These things may seem minor but those, usually the young ones, who have got too curious or failed to follow the rules have ended up either dead, crippled or insane. Usually people say that these incidents were the result of drug use or alcoholism, but some of the freak accidents cannot be explained by anything.
How do I know this? I used to go and help my grandmother who lived in that appartment and I have seen several times how ambulance has dragged away young people who have missed an arm, sometimes some other parts also. The worst case was when I found a corpse that looked like an explosion victim in the laundry room. His guts were spattered all around the room and his left arm was sitting on top of the washing machine.
Before her death my grandmother told that she knows what's behind these incidents. After the 2nd world war there was a shortage of apartments and one war veteran who had lost his left arm was given a rudimentary room in the basement for no cost if he would help people to do laundry and help the janitor. He did, but eventually someone insulted him in one way or another. The veteran killed that youngster and himself. Ever since his spirit has been there, harshly punishing those who fail to follow the rules of his home. After telling this she told me that I should never ever return to the apartment as I knew too much. As I left the apartment for the last time I could see the figure of an old, old man missing his left arm staring at me, reflected on the large glass panel on the door to the stairway...
***
It's strange, the tricks your eyes play on you. Some time ago when coming home late you saw an old homeless man hunched up beside the bank. Seconds later you realize, silly you, it's just one of those big electrical boxes.
Even after realizing it, though, every time you come home late and pass by the bank, you think you see that homeless man instead.
Then one day, you just see the electrical box, and wonder what happened to the man.
***
Your office building was converted from a townhouse sometime last decade; it?s has a fair bit of colonial charm, and it?s very own ghost. Betty One-and-a-Half they call her; she lived in the early days of the Cold War, and it?s said she heard angels singing to her all the time, and would sometimes dance to their tune. The doctors concluded she was quite mad, but being of wealthy family, they decided not to perform any drastic surgery on her, instead allowing the parents to care for her as best they could. Betty, if that was her real name, never married and spent most of her life on the uppermost floor of the family townhouse, cared for by hired nurses.
Time and circumstance, however, brought this tale to a tragic end; ill-luck and poor planning caused the family?s wealth to wither, and they began to secretly resent the cost of tending to Betty. Her siblings grew increasingly rude, and would even torment her with harsh words, which Betty, having never been exposed to before, took to heart. The poor lady, now well-into spinsterhood, but still a child at heart, despaired for her parents and siblings, thinking that if she were gone, all their troubles would be over.
The story doesn?t tell where Betty found the axe, or how she found the will to swing it upward into her own face, but the tale is very clear that the first blow didn?t kill her, though it sunk deep into her skull. Prying the hatchet loose, her strength already failing, she managed a second blow, one that did less damage, but nonetheless lodged the weapon into her head. It?s said that Betty, in the thrall of death, tormented by the screams of her angels and insane with pain and regret, walked on failing feet towards the stairwell leading to the downstairs rooms where her family sat, oblivious to her self-destructive act. The story goes that she never made it to those steps, that she fell forwards mere feet away, hand outstretched towards the banister, hatchet still hanging from her skull.
You work on the third floor of the converted townhouse, just below the top floor, which is mostly used for storage. Your co-workers have told you about how they hear Betty One-and-a-Half shuffling down the hallway above your office late at night, and you believe them, you?ve heard it too when working late. On some nights it?s worse then others; the dragging is sometimes accompanied by a light sobbing, always ending with a loud thump when the sound reaches the top of the stair.
Tonight is a bad one; your alone, working late on an expense report that needs to be done by tomorrow morning, and you swear you can hear every struggling footstep above you. You try to ignore it, but it?s impossible, so you just settle for typing while repeatedly glancing over your shoulder. You remind yourself that you?re perfectly safe, the ghost has never harmed anyone.
Tonight, however, something is different; the noise reaches the top of the stairs, and you wait expectantly for that final thump, but it never comes. The seconds stretch on to minutes, and finally, your heart in your throat, you here the loud, terrible creak of someone coming down the stairs.
***
The easiest way to live forever is to trick death into overlooking you. Break into a morgue, and steal a dead man's eye. Take it home, and bring it into the bathroom. Turn out the light so that your double in the mirror can't see what you're up to, and then quickly, before you chicken out, pluck out your own eye and put the dead man's eye into the socket. Leave your eye facing the mirror, to trap your double, and leave.
The most remarkable thing you'll notice is that you can see out of your new eye, but after a few days, you'll start to see things from the land of the living and the lands of the dead. At first it will only be flickers - something vast and ancient, with a jaw like a cavern, drooling in a corner, but over time the nightmare visions will become a constant. You can wear out a succession of dead man's eyes... but an eye plucked from a living man might serve you better, might last a little longer. It's more attuned to life and light.
Eventually the eye you left to keep your mirror-self distracted will rot away, and you'll have to avoid mirrors lest your dark twin catch up, and then give Death your location. If your reflection finds you, bind him again - you still have one real eye, after all. Flee somewhere far away - isolated enough that your mirror-self won't think to look for you, but populated enough to continue your grisly harvesting. A time will come when you've changed so much that your reflection won't even recognize you, and then you can rest...
... but not for too long. You'll need to tear out a fresh pair of eyes soon, after all.
***
When I was about nine or ten, I woke up late at night. Just over the top of the footboard of the bed, I could see that my old record player/radio was turned off. Not too unusual, considering I slept with the dial on a classical station and sometimes my parents would turn it off if they could hear it in their room across the hall. The room should have been quiet, but as my grogginess fell and my senses returned, I heard what had woken me up. A faint growling sounded from the foot of my bed, out of sight past the footboard. An almost painful, chilling feeling of dread and fear crept up from my toes, which I was too afraid to pull more closely to myself and away from the footboard for fear of making noise and provoking whatever was down there. The growling grew in volume, but it remained low, the sound barely reverberating in that small room. I couldn't identify it. Not animal.. not human.. just odd and blood-curdling. If you listen to someone over the phone, you can hear the smile in their voices, something about the emanation of sound waves. I could hear a malicious grin in this growl.
Risking making noise but being a child and believing in the power of hiding beneath a blanket, I pulled my comforter over my head. Heart hammering in my ears and all blood gone from my face, I continued to listen to it and shut my eyes fiercely, trying to wish whatever it was away.
Finally, I mustered some balls from somewhere and pushed the blanket from my face, opening my eyes and listening for a reaction to the whisper of moving cloth.
The growling stopped.
I wanted to scream, cry, run, do something, but there was nothing to be done.
I sat up slowly and edged toward the footboard, searching the opposite side of it as more of what was hidden was revealed, looking for the source of the now-silent growl.
Before even half of what was hidden by the footboard had come into view, a figure jumped up and grinned at me. It jumped up so quickly, I was frozen in place. The grin was eerie, too big for the face. The face of my father, though not.. It was too thin somehow, not right. The body structure was off, but all I could make of it was the familiarity of the features, clothing, and laughter of my father. It giggled.. somehow like my father and somehow not.. at me and turned to bolt out my room. As I watched it, it turned down the part of my hall where my parents room was.
I stayed in my frozen place for what felt like hours but may have only been a few minutes, heart hammering, barely breathing, too shocked to do anything, to have any conscious or comprehensive thought.
Slowly, I tiptoed to my parents' room, thinking my dad was playing some sort of prank. As I got closer, I heard the sound of my dad snoring. No way he had gotten to sleep and into bed that quickly. Against my better judgement, I knocked, and my dad came to the door with the unmistakable look of groggy sleep about him. There is no faking the look of someone who has truly just woken up from deep sleep. Shocked and confused, I couldn't speak for a moment. He asked me what was wrong, and I asked if he had been in my room. He said no, clearly puzzled, and told me to go back to bed, that it was all a nightmare.
Figuring he was right but still barely able to shake the terror and adrenaline from my bones, I went back to my room.
At the foot of my bed, the sheet I had kicked off earlier in the night was bundled and flattened in the middle, much as thought something had been sleeping there. With trembling fingers, I found that the flattened part of the cloth still had the remnants of warmth to it.
We did not have pets at that time.
I did not sleep that night or much for the weeks following.
***
You know when you're on the computer with headphones on, back to the door, but you can still feel the air change when someone walks in?
You know when you suddenly wake at night for what appears to be no real reason, before going back to sleep?
Same principle.
***
You set your computer camera to take a picture every few minutes. Then, you leave for the day. When you check the pictures later on, you find large, black, blurry objects in every 10 images.
***
Don't make any sudden movements. It wasn't a figment of your imagination.
***
You'd be surprised to learn how few actual people there really are in the world.
***
If everyone knew what Mount Rushmore REALLY was, they wouldn't have made it a national monument. You probably couldn't even look at it without vomiting.
Whenever you chat with friends on the computer, they tell you they see someone walk past behind you in your webcam, even if you always believed you were alone in the room. One day, you decided to leave the cam on, and recording and left for work. You get home, play back the video and see the room. There's no one there. But when you go online, and check on your friends, they tell you that they received instant messages from you telling them, "He thinks he'll catch me, but I'm smarter..."
***
A man was sleeping peacefully one night, when all of a sudden he awoke to a loud crash outside. Simply ignoring the sound, he went back to sleep.
An hour passes and the man continues to sleep. The man then awakens to the sound of scratching on his wall. He procedes to investigate the noise. As soon as the man had taken one step out of his bed he heard something crawl up the wall and onto the ceiling.
Frightened, the man quickly jumped back into bed. Fifteen minutes pass without a sound. Assuming he was just tired, the man tried to fall back asleep. The man turned over in his bed to get comfortable. As he did this he was faced with a pair of snarling jaws.
The man screamed but was quickly silenced...
***
If you ever are in an area of absolute quiet, still your breathing and move not a muscle. After a few seconds, you will notice that the silence has a sort of "sound" of its own, a kind of empty ringing tone. This is nothing unique, everyone will hear this, given the proper setting. An informed person will tell you that your brain is trying to interpret the lack of stimuli to your hearing and so creates a bit of a filler sound. Actually, there is never, ever, total quiet anywhere on Earth. This sound actually covers something very important. For a persistent individual, one can discern what is under this pitch. The next time you are in such a situation, shout at the top of your lungs for about half a minute, then become completely silent all at once. It will be different for everyone. Some will hear nothing different for dozens of tries. Others might catch a snatch of soft murmuring. A special few might clearly make out what they hear on the first attempt. What you will hear is a voice that relays an account of events about to happen in the immediate future. It's like a sportscaster relaying the events occurring 10 seconds later. Such an ability would doubtlessly be invaluable, no?
You will be able react to any immediate danger, relate to people around you with greater ease. No one would ever surprise you. As time goes on, you will be able to make out this voice under increasingly noisy circumstances, to the point that it can be heard at any time by just concentrating. Now, of course you are wondering what sort of horrible catch there is for this. Perhaps the tone of the voice is so horrible that it will drive you mad, or maybe the voice will only predict your death over and over again. Of course this isn't the case, though, its a normal voice, your ears receive it no matter what, its simply a matter of noticing. But there is a danger. For you see, there's no such thing as a voice lacking a body. And just like you will notice new sounds, so shall you notice new sights. More importantly, you will be noticed.
***
It might happen one morning that you wake up home alone. This could be normal depending on your situation, but this morning will be different. While your environment will all seem exactly the same, you?ll notice that everything is quieter than normal. If you go outside, you will notice a distinct lack of anything like birds, insects? or people. As far as you travel, you will not encounter another sentient human being. The entire world will be intact, but empty except for yourself.
There are currently over 100,000 missing persons cases in the United States. Some are just normal cases of murder or kidnappings, but in others, the disappearance cannot be explained and no remains of the person are ever located.
***
A teenage girl, popular, rich, and happy, was walking through a store with her mom and saw a beautiful porcelain doll, which would look great with her collection. She demanded that her mother buy it for her. He mother agreed, and got it for her.
As soon as the girl returned home, she unpacked the doll and set it on a stand above her bed. She then left her room and went out with her friends. When she got home, it was late and she was tired. She went to her room, put on her pajama's and tucked herself into bed.
When she woke up the next morning, she saw a note attached to her lamp beside her bed. It was from her mother, telling her they'd be out of town until next Sunday. She yawned and noticed that her cheek was sore, but she didn't pay much attention to it. She got dressed and went to school.
This went on for a few days until she woke up and her cheek was extremely sore. She decided she'd check it out in a minute or two, then went about her room, picking out what she would wear. She finally decided and walked over to her full body mirror and noticed a large, ugly lump on her cheek.
Figuring it was a pimple, she squeezed it... and felt something moving. All of the sudden, spiders began pulling themselves out of the lump. She screamed, but since there was no one home in her huge house, nobody heard her. She tore at the spiders but there were millions... and she died of the poison in their bites.
Apparently... there was a nest of spiders in the porcelain doll she'd gotten
***
A divorced woman was walking her young girl down the hallway. It was the day that the father could take the girl home. The woman was torn all to pieces about this, and the young girl noticed. The woman and her child arrived at the elevator and when the doors opened, stepped in.
Finally they had reached the floor that the father worked. When the doors opened guess who was standing their, the father. Without saying a word the father took hold of the young girls hand and started to walk away. Suddenly the woman grabbed the girls other hand and tried to pull her back in the elevator.
Unfortunately, the door closed on the girl as her head was jerked into the elevator. The elevator started going down and half of the young girls body was going with it because her mother wouldn't let go and her father wouldn't either, who was still on the second floor.
The young girl was ripped in half when the elevator reached the ground floor.
***
Once, when my father was a young man, he was driving home late one night from work. It was along a New Jersey stretch of road. Passing by a bridge, he glanced over, and saw what appeared to be an old man, dressed in clothing that would have been in the height of fashion in the 1800s, walking along the side of the road.
He brushed it off, thinking he was imagining things. He was driving past a second bridge, and saw the old man again. He was about to drive past the third bridge, when he looked over again, expecting to see the old man outside, on the road.
He was sitting next to him, in the passenger seat.
***
You're sitting at the computer, browsing some of your favorite sites, when you notice a link that seems... out of place. It reads, Whatever you do...
Before you know it, you're dragging the mouse over to the link and clicking on it. The link brings you to a page with a black background with three innocent words written in white text: Don't turn around!
It's barely visible, but in the background of the page you notice an unsettling thing just standing there, staring down.
"Cute," you think to yourself as you turn off the monitor.
Then you realize that thing wasn't a picture. It was a reflection.
***
You're in bed, feeling chilled despite being under the covers. You hear something tap against glass. You look out your window from your pillow, but see nothing. You try to sleep, but are bothered by the sound of something scratching against glass. You look at your window, and see nothing. You're really unnerved now, and you hear the scratching noise again, this time a high pitched screech of something against glass. You hide yourself under your covers, trying to ignore it.
You wake up in the morning, feeling mostly refreshed. You almost forget about the strange noise last night. You look at your window with daylight now, and see nothing unusual.
But in the mirror in your room, the word "Hello" is scratched into the surface.
***
You try to sleep, but the noises keep you awake. It's like something's scratching on wood. And Growling. You tell yourself it's only the wind, and only the trees outside, but the sound goes on. And on. And on.
Finally, you just can't take it. You stand up, turning the lights on. The sound is coming from your front door. You walk into the living room on unsteady legs, and the growling gets louder, the scraping more pronounced, more... vicious. With shaking hands, you reach for the telephone... and the noises stopped. Like they never were there.
For what feels like hours, you stand there with the phone in your hand, waiting for the sounds to begin again. Thy never do. Finally, heart in your throat, unable to stop yourself, you walk to the door. You open it... on the night air.
Nothing. You study the door. It should be almost clawed to pieces, you could have swore you heard the wood start to give. But it's unmarked. You shake your head. Just your imagination. Then you close the door.
The claw marks are on the inside.
***
You come home from work, dead tired. You can barely muster the energy to plod up
the stairs to your bedroom, and leaving the light off, you begin to undress for
bed in the dim light filtering in through the window.
As you pull off your undershirt, you freeze. Your vision was only obscured for a
moment by your shirt, and the gloom makes it hard to see. But you could swear the
furniture in your bedroom has all been moved.
***
You take down a big buck with a beautiful kill shot, and climb down your blind to collect and dress it. When you reach the corpse, it's already been gutted and gnawed into unrecognizability. You only lost sight of it for 30 secs top, and heard nothing.
***
You and your wife have a healthy child. He's a little small, as infants go, and with a unusually oblong skull, but the doctor's assure you that that it is due to pressure from the birth canal and will correct in a couple weeks.
Your wife breast feeds the baby, but he just can't seem to put on weight. Finally she starts sleeping in his bedroom, by the crib, just so that she can be available when he wakes hungry in the night.
This goes on for several weeks, your wife sleeping in the bedroom, tending to your child, before you think anything of it. It's not until you are doing the laundry that something seems odd.
Her nursing bra has blood stains.
You barge into the child's bedroom and before she can cover herself, you see your black-eyed infant, clinging to his mother's skin, gnawing away at the scabbed remains of her breasts.
***
The old closet wasn't remodeled with the rest of the house. It's bare wood and insulation, so no one's had reason to go inside in years. You even set your computer up right in front of the door, figuring there wasn't any reason to go inside.
One night, while you're reading some forum or blog, something pounds on the door three times...from the inside. From where the door buckles, the blows come at about head height.
You don't open the door. You don't even jump. You just look, then go back to the computer. It happens again on other nights, and for some reason, you treat it like nothing special. Every time, you spend the whole day after, scared shitless at exactly why you acted like this was normal.
***
You work late in the morgue, performing the usual autopsy procedure. Checking organ weights, blood levels, etc. You write the numbers on the chart. The body has been dead for awhile, so you are happy to be called away by the telephone. When you get back, the chart has been moved from where you put it down. The weight for the heart has been corrected.
***
(This was awesome for me)
You're reading freaky stories posted by weirdos on an internet forum. As you click 'next' to view the coming page, you realize all the posts now have the 'you's in it substituted with your name. In fact, David realizes they seem to describe David's house and surroundings quite accurately. This last story has David reading scary tales on his PC when...
***
The scariest thing that ever happened to me happened when I was 8 and had just convinced my parents to make give my brother his own room. Now, the two important things to understand before I tell this story are :
1)I was afraid of the dark, so I kept the hall light on all night and my door open
2)I could see the stairs that led to the main floor very clearly from my bed when the door was open.
Now, as I was saying, I had just gotten my brother to sleep in a different room for the first time ever, so I was a little scared. I had just woken up from a bad sleep and was a little groggy, so I sat up and started counting (a trick of my dad's to fall back asleep). I look out the door and see my mom going downstairs. Being 8, I decide to tell her I can't sleep, so I call her. She doesn't answer and goes right down the stairs, so I follow her. She goes around the corner at the bottom of the stairs (still not answering me) and, still following, I look. She isn't there. All the lights downstairs are off. The whole main floor is, presumably, empty. So I run to my parent's room to ask my dad what is going on, and there is my mum, sleeping. I woke her up to ask why she went downstairs and she had no idea what I was talking about.
I went back to my room, very scared and trying to fall back asleep, so I start counting. I look out the door again, and see my mum coming back up the stairs, then she looks at me. I just closed my eyes and couldn't open them for the rest of the night. It is still the most unsettling thing I have ever gone through. I can't even write it without getting chills.
***
In Finland there is an old but still inhabited yellow apartment, situated in a small city near an important railroad. Almost all of the people living there are over 70 years old and in fact it seems that younger people simply won't stay there for longer than a year.
If you live there you will soon notice several unusual things. In the basement the text "TURN ON THE LIGHT. TURN OFF THE LIGHT WHEN YOU LEAVE" is written next to every light switch. It's unusual to remind somebody of something so obvious, but here it is of critical importance.
People who forget something in the basement never return to pick it up. If you offer to go and retrieve it for them they will stop you from doing so.
There is one door there, between some storage doors that has no numbers on it. Instead the door has a worn-out nameplate on it. The people in the flat will tell you to leave that door alone. It is said that people who have peeked in the keyhole have seen very unsettling things.
The wires and pipes in the basement look amazingly old, yet still the house has perfectly functioning water, electricity and phone lines.
The laundry room, which is in the basement, must be reserved if you want to use it. If you go there without reserving a time first you will at first get weird looks and some scolding. Then people will more ominously and angrily warn you.
These things may seem minor but those, usually the young ones, who have got too curious or failed to follow the rules have ended up either dead, crippled or insane. Usually people say that these incidents were the result of drug use or alcoholism, but some of the freak accidents cannot be explained by anything.
How do I know this? I used to go and help my grandmother who lived in that appartment and I have seen several times how ambulance has dragged away young people who have missed an arm, sometimes some other parts also. The worst case was when I found a corpse that looked like an explosion victim in the laundry room. His guts were spattered all around the room and his left arm was sitting on top of the washing machine.
Before her death my grandmother told that she knows what's behind these incidents. After the 2nd world war there was a shortage of apartments and one war veteran who had lost his left arm was given a rudimentary room in the basement for no cost if he would help people to do laundry and help the janitor. He did, but eventually someone insulted him in one way or another. The veteran killed that youngster and himself. Ever since his spirit has been there, harshly punishing those who fail to follow the rules of his home. After telling this she told me that I should never ever return to the apartment as I knew too much. As I left the apartment for the last time I could see the figure of an old, old man missing his left arm staring at me, reflected on the large glass panel on the door to the stairway...
***
It's strange, the tricks your eyes play on you. Some time ago when coming home late you saw an old homeless man hunched up beside the bank. Seconds later you realize, silly you, it's just one of those big electrical boxes.
Even after realizing it, though, every time you come home late and pass by the bank, you think you see that homeless man instead.
Then one day, you just see the electrical box, and wonder what happened to the man.
***
Your office building was converted from a townhouse sometime last decade; it?s has a fair bit of colonial charm, and it?s very own ghost. Betty One-and-a-Half they call her; she lived in the early days of the Cold War, and it?s said she heard angels singing to her all the time, and would sometimes dance to their tune. The doctors concluded she was quite mad, but being of wealthy family, they decided not to perform any drastic surgery on her, instead allowing the parents to care for her as best they could. Betty, if that was her real name, never married and spent most of her life on the uppermost floor of the family townhouse, cared for by hired nurses.
Time and circumstance, however, brought this tale to a tragic end; ill-luck and poor planning caused the family?s wealth to wither, and they began to secretly resent the cost of tending to Betty. Her siblings grew increasingly rude, and would even torment her with harsh words, which Betty, having never been exposed to before, took to heart. The poor lady, now well-into spinsterhood, but still a child at heart, despaired for her parents and siblings, thinking that if she were gone, all their troubles would be over.
The story doesn?t tell where Betty found the axe, or how she found the will to swing it upward into her own face, but the tale is very clear that the first blow didn?t kill her, though it sunk deep into her skull. Prying the hatchet loose, her strength already failing, she managed a second blow, one that did less damage, but nonetheless lodged the weapon into her head. It?s said that Betty, in the thrall of death, tormented by the screams of her angels and insane with pain and regret, walked on failing feet towards the stairwell leading to the downstairs rooms where her family sat, oblivious to her self-destructive act. The story goes that she never made it to those steps, that she fell forwards mere feet away, hand outstretched towards the banister, hatchet still hanging from her skull.
You work on the third floor of the converted townhouse, just below the top floor, which is mostly used for storage. Your co-workers have told you about how they hear Betty One-and-a-Half shuffling down the hallway above your office late at night, and you believe them, you?ve heard it too when working late. On some nights it?s worse then others; the dragging is sometimes accompanied by a light sobbing, always ending with a loud thump when the sound reaches the top of the stair.
Tonight is a bad one; your alone, working late on an expense report that needs to be done by tomorrow morning, and you swear you can hear every struggling footstep above you. You try to ignore it, but it?s impossible, so you just settle for typing while repeatedly glancing over your shoulder. You remind yourself that you?re perfectly safe, the ghost has never harmed anyone.
Tonight, however, something is different; the noise reaches the top of the stairs, and you wait expectantly for that final thump, but it never comes. The seconds stretch on to minutes, and finally, your heart in your throat, you here the loud, terrible creak of someone coming down the stairs.
***
The easiest way to live forever is to trick death into overlooking you. Break into a morgue, and steal a dead man's eye. Take it home, and bring it into the bathroom. Turn out the light so that your double in the mirror can't see what you're up to, and then quickly, before you chicken out, pluck out your own eye and put the dead man's eye into the socket. Leave your eye facing the mirror, to trap your double, and leave.
The most remarkable thing you'll notice is that you can see out of your new eye, but after a few days, you'll start to see things from the land of the living and the lands of the dead. At first it will only be flickers - something vast and ancient, with a jaw like a cavern, drooling in a corner, but over time the nightmare visions will become a constant. You can wear out a succession of dead man's eyes... but an eye plucked from a living man might serve you better, might last a little longer. It's more attuned to life and light.
Eventually the eye you left to keep your mirror-self distracted will rot away, and you'll have to avoid mirrors lest your dark twin catch up, and then give Death your location. If your reflection finds you, bind him again - you still have one real eye, after all. Flee somewhere far away - isolated enough that your mirror-self won't think to look for you, but populated enough to continue your grisly harvesting. A time will come when you've changed so much that your reflection won't even recognize you, and then you can rest...
... but not for too long. You'll need to tear out a fresh pair of eyes soon, after all.
***
When I was about nine or ten, I woke up late at night. Just over the top of the footboard of the bed, I could see that my old record player/radio was turned off. Not too unusual, considering I slept with the dial on a classical station and sometimes my parents would turn it off if they could hear it in their room across the hall. The room should have been quiet, but as my grogginess fell and my senses returned, I heard what had woken me up. A faint growling sounded from the foot of my bed, out of sight past the footboard. An almost painful, chilling feeling of dread and fear crept up from my toes, which I was too afraid to pull more closely to myself and away from the footboard for fear of making noise and provoking whatever was down there. The growling grew in volume, but it remained low, the sound barely reverberating in that small room. I couldn't identify it. Not animal.. not human.. just odd and blood-curdling. If you listen to someone over the phone, you can hear the smile in their voices, something about the emanation of sound waves. I could hear a malicious grin in this growl.
Risking making noise but being a child and believing in the power of hiding beneath a blanket, I pulled my comforter over my head. Heart hammering in my ears and all blood gone from my face, I continued to listen to it and shut my eyes fiercely, trying to wish whatever it was away.
Finally, I mustered some balls from somewhere and pushed the blanket from my face, opening my eyes and listening for a reaction to the whisper of moving cloth.
The growling stopped.
I wanted to scream, cry, run, do something, but there was nothing to be done.
I sat up slowly and edged toward the footboard, searching the opposite side of it as more of what was hidden was revealed, looking for the source of the now-silent growl.
Before even half of what was hidden by the footboard had come into view, a figure jumped up and grinned at me. It jumped up so quickly, I was frozen in place. The grin was eerie, too big for the face. The face of my father, though not.. It was too thin somehow, not right. The body structure was off, but all I could make of it was the familiarity of the features, clothing, and laughter of my father. It giggled.. somehow like my father and somehow not.. at me and turned to bolt out my room. As I watched it, it turned down the part of my hall where my parents room was.
I stayed in my frozen place for what felt like hours but may have only been a few minutes, heart hammering, barely breathing, too shocked to do anything, to have any conscious or comprehensive thought.
Slowly, I tiptoed to my parents' room, thinking my dad was playing some sort of prank. As I got closer, I heard the sound of my dad snoring. No way he had gotten to sleep and into bed that quickly. Against my better judgement, I knocked, and my dad came to the door with the unmistakable look of groggy sleep about him. There is no faking the look of someone who has truly just woken up from deep sleep. Shocked and confused, I couldn't speak for a moment. He asked me what was wrong, and I asked if he had been in my room. He said no, clearly puzzled, and told me to go back to bed, that it was all a nightmare.
Figuring he was right but still barely able to shake the terror and adrenaline from my bones, I went back to my room.
At the foot of my bed, the sheet I had kicked off earlier in the night was bundled and flattened in the middle, much as thought something had been sleeping there. With trembling fingers, I found that the flattened part of the cloth still had the remnants of warmth to it.
We did not have pets at that time.
I did not sleep that night or much for the weeks following.
***
You know when you're on the computer with headphones on, back to the door, but you can still feel the air change when someone walks in?
You know when you suddenly wake at night for what appears to be no real reason, before going back to sleep?
Same principle.
***
You set your computer camera to take a picture every few minutes. Then, you leave for the day. When you check the pictures later on, you find large, black, blurry objects in every 10 images.
***
Don't make any sudden movements. It wasn't a figment of your imagination.
***
You'd be surprised to learn how few actual people there really are in the world.
***
If everyone knew what Mount Rushmore REALLY was, they wouldn't have made it a national monument. You probably couldn't even look at it without vomiting.
