20 Apr, 2018
Reading Time: 12 minutes
Arthur had just come home from a week of restful camping with his 2 best friends. The three of them had been planning the trip months in advance due to the ever growing toxic work environment that was created with their new supervisor. Arthur was particularly excited when the 3 of them had planned the trip, mainly because going out into the woods had always put his mind at ease.
When Arthur was a child he would go on trips in the great outdoors with his father. The two of them would live off the land for a week or so- despite the fact that it would always make Arthur’s mother worry sick about the two of them alone in the woods. Arthur could never understand what made his mother so worried when they would leave, because Arthur and his father would regularly take a trip into the woods every last week of July. The camping trip was planned to give Arthur a final sense of freedom before the school year started in September. The reason why they didn’t take the trip in August was because that month was reserved for getting all the supplies and clothes Arthur would need for school and the two of them wouldn’t be able to plan anything for the month.
The final sense of freedom he felt when he and his father went on those trips is the reason he loved them so much. Arthur and his father would lie underneath the warm July night sky and point out the constellations as they appeared to them. Arthur’s father would explain the stories behind the groups they found, being an avid star gazer. As the summer night would become darker more constellations would present themselves to Arthur and his father, almost like they were becoming brave enough to fill the night sky with their presence and majesty.
As a child Arthur would always wonder why he could see each constellation so vividly when he and his father were out in the woods as opposed to when he would look through his telescope at home. His childish self would think that the stars were too afraid of being seen by people to come out over cities, in fact, he figured that the bright lights of the city were scaring them away. The notion that the stars were afraid of humans was a funny thought to the now 23 year old Arthur, but sometimes he felt that living in the ignorance of youth on the topic might have been better.
Arthur entered his small studio apartment with a sigh of remorse as his mind started to fill with the overbearing reality of being an adult. Entering his cramped little living room, Arthur kicked off his muddy boots causing them to launch off his feet and up against the door. Arthur threw his backpack onto his vomit colored couch nestled up in the corner against the two thin tan colored walls that made up part of his living space. The thought of being home was both refreshing and dismal at the same time, mainly because he never felt like this building was his home; he felt more home out in the wildness than he did in his own apartment. The idea that Arthur felt more at home outside was a depressing thought, but he couldn’t really do anything about that except for what he would usually do when he felt this way.
Arthur crossed the beige carpet and entered his kitchen to seek out what he now craved most dearly. Opening up the fridge, Arthur reached in and grabbed a cold bottle of his favorite beer from the side shelf before twisting the cap off with little resistance. Arthur brought the cold bottle up to his anticipating lips but stopped short after feeling a sudden pain on the front of his left leg. Small pricks of pain began to make its way up Arthur’s leg, but it wasn’t a particularly deep pain. Each spasm was more like a pin prick just below his knee-cap that kept occurring every few seconds. Arthur quickly reached down to where the pain was originating from, but felt nothing against his fingertips except for his own smooth skin as he took a small sip from his bottle.
After Arthur got finished unpacking he decided that it was time to get dinner ready. Although sometimes he hated to admit it, Arthur had a passion for cooking meals and baking that seemed to sprout from when he was in middle school. As Arthur began to collect the dishes required to make his evening meal he started to feel the same quick pricks of pain he felt just a few minutes ago, and immediately started to rub his left leg in an attempt to discover what could be causing the discomfort. As Arthur began to trace his leg the pain vanished as quickly as it began causing Arthur to believe he might either have a splinter or that maybe he must have banged his leg up while hiking last week. The thought of his leg being injured in the hike seemed a little bit hard to believe considering that he didn’t remember running into anything that would cause any sort of leg injury, so Arthur dismissed the thought and continued preparing his meal.
The small pricks in Arthur’s leg continued far into the evening even bothering him as he slept. The small pricks were unpredictable, starting at unknowable intervals but containing the same amount of annoying disturbance as the previous prick of pain. However, due to some miracle Arthur was only woken up three or four times during the night before he had to get up for work. Before getting up due to the high pitched buzzing of his alarm, Arthur glanced over his leg in order to inspect it. Inspecting as intently as he could, Arthur was unable to find any source of the pain he was feeling.
As the week dragged by the pain in Arthur’s leg continued to pester him during the day and night. Each prick of pain caused Arthur to rub the affected area. By the end of the first week Arthur’s leg began to get extremely irritated causing his skin to burn and itch. Finally Arthur got to a breaking point and realized he would need to something to quell the irritation, so he tried applying a number of skin creams to the affected area, but to no avail. By the end of the second week Arthur’s leg got even worse, even with the countless amount of creams he was applying to his skin it wasn’t enough to fix the irritation. At the beginning of the third week Arthur was at his limit and couldn’t take it anymore, he would have to see a doctor or risk sawing off his own leg due to the frustration.
Arthur scheduled an appointment to see the doctor and showed up the next day to see if he could get any assistance with his problem. Due to the massive swelling on the affected area of Arthur’s leg the doctor couldn’t get determine the exact cause of the pain that Arthur was reporting- although he figured that he might have been having an allergic reaction to a plant that was causing the irritation and swelling. To help the swelling go down the doctor prescribed an extra strength ointment and suggested that Arthur should wrap the affected area in bandages after applying the ointment. The doctor told Arthur to wait until the affected area was healed and the swelling went down before coming back so they can do an x-ray to determine if he might have fractured or sprained something in his leg. If Arthur’s leg didn’t show any signs of healing his doctor told him to see a dermatologist, but most importantly the doctor to him not to scratch or rub the affected area to prevent the possibility of infection.
Arthur rushed home as fast as he possibly could and charged through the door slamming it behind him. Arthur ripped open the packaging and rigorously applied the cream to the raw skin around the affected areas. Arthur was quick to apply the cream on his skin, but as he was applying it he felt something that caused him to jump in surprise. Running his hand over the area around his kneecap again caused him to feel a small intrusion coming from the outside of his skin that both shocked and relived him. The discovery relived him mostly because now he knew the source of the problem and could figure out a way to solve it.
The source of all his suffering must have been some sort of splinter or thorn, but Arthur found it a little odd that he wasn’t able to discover it previously. Regardless, Arthur figured he should be able to pull it out, but was unsuccessful due to the size of the thorn and the fact that his fingers were too slick from the cream. Seeing as there wouldn’t be any way to get the thorn out anytime soon, Arthur decided to wait until the cream did what it was supposed to do then work on getting it out later.
After three days of torture, the swelling and irritation in Arthur’s leg finally subsided. Arthur was relieved to see his leg return to its normal size, but all throughout his time of healing he felt that same pin prick he felt the day he got back from home every now and then. Arthur felt like his suffering would soon be over as he sat in front of his desk at work waiting for his time to pack up and go.
It felt like an eternity of waiting, but after work was finally done and over with Arthur hurried to the store in order to buy some tweezers. Arthur returned home with a fresh pair of tweezers in a plastic bag. Arthur ripped the tweezers out of the package and began to study the surface of his skin intently. After a short time of scanning, he finally found what looked like a very small intrusion slightly sticking out of his skin. The intrusion looked like a piece of a black thorn that had been implanted after the body of the thorn had broken off.
Despite the fact that Arthur’s skin had healed from the swelling, there was still a lot of broken and blistered skin around the area of what looked like a thorn or splinter. As Arthur pressed the tweezers against the skin of his knee he felt a wave of pain flow from the area, but he was determined to remove this nuisance. The tweezers clamped down on the piece of a possible thorn and Arthur pulled softly, but the piece of thorn wouldn’t slide out it only slightly stretched like it was just another hair on his body. Arthur tried pulling even harder as he tried to ignore the rising pain shooting up from where he pulled, but his effort resulted in no visual change. Arthur paused briefly before he clamped the tweezers firmly on the intrusion and pulled harder and harder as the pain in his leg ramped up tenfold before he felt the thorn slightly move back with his effort.
The piece of thorn must have been a lot longer than Arthur had expected, because as he pulled it only seemed to get longer. The thing that Author thought was a piece of thorn turned into something completely different and would only yield a few centimeters before halting and not budging. Arthur held his breath and clenched before yanking back with half the amount of force he was planning before yelling out in pain and doubling over. Arthur looked at his leg noticing that the piece of thorn he was trying to pull out had seemed to be a lot longer than he expected. As Arthur sat there looking at the strange object protruding from his skin he moved the tweezers closer as his eyes fixated on the point of the piece of thorn, but to Arthur’s horror he noticed that- what he thought was a piece of torn or a splinter began to quickly slither back into place on his knee.
Noticing what looked like some sort of tail moving into his body caused Arthur to scream the loudest he had ever screamed in his life. Arthur’s eyes widened as he sat there, his eyes fixated on the strange protrusion wiggling its way back into position like a worm. The tail returned to its original position at the area just below his knee cap slithering in till it looked like a small thorn again. Arthur sat there for what seemed liked hours confused and shocked as to what he just witnessed. A flood of thoughts entered into Arthur’s mind as he tried to decide what he should do about the situation.
Arthur couldn’t decide what would be the best course of action to take based on the situation- it’s not like he could tell anyone, who would believe him anyway? Arthur thought fast and brash and decided that whatever the thing slithering around in his body was it needed to be pulled out now. By the time Arthur came to his decision he was writhing in so much pain that he wouldn’t be able to make it down to his car let alone drive down to the hospital by himself. Arthur had no one to call to come pick him up so he made a quick decision that he would cut out whatever was taking residence inside his body and call 911 after he was finished to take him to the emergency room.
Arthur crawled over to the kitchen slowly until he made it to the fridge. Arthur opened the fridge and reached up grabbing a few bottles of beer and downing them quickly until he felt slightly woozy then crawled over to the small living room. Arthur sat in the middle of his living room and moved the tweezers onto the intrusion reluctantly clamping the tweezers down and taking a deep breath. Arthur yanked back on the sliver-like intrusion causing more to be exposed. Arthur cringed as he saw what looked like a black tail of a worm start to surface from his skin before pulling so hard that more of the creature was beginning to surface as it was being pulled from its burrow.
The skin around the intrusion began to bleed and break causing Arthur to scream in agony, but he continued to pull the worm causing his skin to rip in a line traveling in an upward direction on his leg. Arthur continued to scream in pain as salty streams of tears began to cascade down his face while he continued to pull causing the breakage to continue upward leaving a trail of broken skin filling up with warm crimson blood. The worm emerged more as Arthur continued to pull even though he was in excruciating pain, but he had to get this thing out. The line traveled farther up Arthur’s body as the worm emerged tarring up Arthur’s thigh and making it up the side of his stomach as his clothes and floor began to turn a deep crimson while he continued. Arthur’s hands became slick as he pulled more abandoning the tweezers a long time ago in order to uproot his invader faster.
Minutes ticked by as Arthur struggled to keep from passing out on his floor. Despite the limitation Arthur continued on pulling, removing the creature inch by inch from his body. At this point the line of breaking skin traveled from Arthur’s kneecap up his thigh, up the side of his stomach and rib cage, winding up pass his chest and up the side of his skull. The carpet was soaked thoroughly with Arthur’s fresh and drying blood as he sat there sobbing uncontrollably from the intense pain and the realization of where the creature’s end might be. Arthur sat there looking down at himself and the large pooling puddle that was soaked into the carpet as his wounds began to form clots in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding.
At this point Arthur was starting to fade in and out of consciousness as his hand weakly gripped onto the creature’s body. Pulling softly, Arthur began to push himself up onto his feet. Stumbling into the kitchen slipping and sliding on the tile, Arthur made his way to the phone propping himself up using the kitchen counter. Arthur dialed the number for emergency services and waited until he heard a woman’s voice come over the phone asking what the emergency was. Arthur tried to regain his composure, but found it extremely difficult with the amount of blood loss that was occurring.
The operator asked if anyone was on the line and said to state the emergency again, to which Arthur began to speak. Arthur weakly told the operator to send help as he stumbled toward the living room and managed to tell her his address before collapsing on the carpet struggling to get up while the operator continued to ask him questions. Arthur told the operator one more time his address and weakly said to send help as the phone dropped from his hand and he laid there on the carpet fading in and out of consciousness the last thing he heard was the operator telling him that a medical team will be there shortly. Arthur’s vision began to get very blurry as he crawled over the carpet, his wounds being irritated by the carpet as he dragged himself along. Arthur continued on for a little more until he could no longer keep himself from drifting off and collapsed on the floor of his living room.
Arthur startled himself awake a few minutes later weakly pulling himself onto his couch and breathing heavily as he surveyed the mess covering the room. Arthur glanced at the exposed worm like creature twitching and coiling on the ground beside him. Sliding his hand up the side of his skull, Arthur gripped onto the exposed part of the creature attached to his head and grabbed the tweezers. Arthur brought the tweezers up to the exposed worm and clamped down hard causing the rest of the worm to wiggle and twitch on the floor. Arthur took a few deep breaths winding up his strength before he abruptly stopped as his gaze turned to the photo of his father and himself that was sitting on the coffee table.
Arthur studied the photo intently with tears in his eyes as the flash of memories centered on the day of the photo flooded into his mind. Arthur returned his grip onto the tweezers which squeezed down on the worm-like creature attached to his skull as he began to hear the faint sounds of sirens in the distance. Arthur breathed heavily and winced as he gripped down as tightly as he possibly could before yanking just as hard as he had been previously. Arthur pulled with all his might until he felt a huge pressure being relived from his skull. Arthur’s hand slowly fell to his side as his body went limp and collapsed onto the side of the coffee table causing it and the tables’ contents to flip onto the ground with the photo of his dad landing right next to him.
As Arthur laid there on the ground facing the photo of his father he could see the worm like creature wiggle and twitch frantically behind him as he felt the warm flow of a crimson tide slide down the side of his face and pool onto the carpet. It was at that moment, when the paramedics rushed into his apartment, that Arthur finally realized something. He could faintly hear the reactions of the paramedics as his vision got more and more clouded, and his thoughts started to drift off into a sea of memories. In that moment as Arthur laid there triumphant, yet at the same time beaten, his last thoughts drifted on one particular memory he always kept locked up. Arthur gave a weak smile as the light began to fade from his eyes and the paramedics rushed over to him, the smile he gave was because of the irony of it all.
Everything went black as Arthur remembered the exact day his father had died, and how the way that he found his father was the exact same way that the paramedics had found him…
CREDIT : Ghost_Eye_Tree
Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged Ghost by cnkguy with no comments yet.
19 Apr, 2018
The Rose of Dread Mother
Reading Time: 4 minutes
I was 12 years old when I met my mother.
We just moved into a new neighborhood. Autumn leaves began to dribble as my dad started to unpack our things. My brother, who was 4 at the time, was playing with his “Imaginary Friend” who he supposedly just met when we moved in. My brother invited me to play with her, telling me that his “Friend” wanted to introduce himself. Thinking it was absurd of him to have an imaginary friend I objected his offer. “Fine, I’ll tell her to meet you herself,” said my brother. My brother had always avoided talking to other girls since our mother passed away, so I thought it was natural for him to have a sort of “Motherly figure” or perhaps even a friend.
Later that night, however, the first encounter had happened. I was sitting in a boat in the middle of a rather foggy lake. I could still feel the wind touching my ears, is this real? might this be a dream? So I took a glimpse of my surroundings. I saw a small wooden cabin with its door opened and I also noticed that the lake was surrounded by trees, making me unable to see what’s beyond it. But that’s when I saw it, a beautiful doll-like figure wearing a humongous white gown, like the ones you see in fancy British parties. She had a red crimson hair as if she dyed herself with blood. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, it’s as if she would slaughter me if I blinked for just a moment. Before I knew it, her bright black eyes were staring back at me, giving me a chill down my spine. She opened up a humongous horrifying smile, impossible for a normal person. Her mouth was pitch black that I couldn’t even see her teeth’s. Her glare was so full of bloodlust; I could feel it just by looking at her. She chuckled, laughed for a bit, then let out a dark psychotic laugh. She let her gown open and revealed my brother’s mutilated head as well as many others just swinging as if it was attached to a string. “Now it’s your turn, Danny”. My sanity was being tested, I was about to go mad. An hour in this place and I would’ve gone on a psychotic tantrum, but I didn’t. I just stood there, somehow feeling very calm about the situation, thinking that it’s all just a dream.
Then the sound of my alarm rung across the room. I was sweating all over my body, catching only glimpses of what had happened last night. Fear, insanity, distraught, and sadness I experienced in a glimpse. Never in my early days have I felt something so dread and so full of hate. I could only imagine what dreams I had last night. So I went downstairs for breakfast and began forgetting the matter. “Did you meet her?” said my brother. I had forgotten what had happened last night so I chuckled for a moment and said: “Met who?”. “The pretty lady in the gown silly, I told you she’d meet you,” said my brother. Expressionless, I began to remember what had happened last night. Then I screamed at the top of my lungs as if it happened right before me. How could he possibly have known about the dream? I over-panicked the situation and asthma began to take over, I didn’t have my inhaler back then. Unable to breathe, I saw a blurry vision of what seemed to be the woman suffocating me while staring at me with her eyes wide open. Then next thing I know I was in the hospital bed.
“Danny are you alright? It’s okay you’re in safe hands now, daddy’s going to go to work now to be on your best behavior” said my dad in a comforting manner. I was speechless, I left a blank expression as my father left the room. Before I knew it, I was alone in a dark room. Wait no, it didn’t feel right. Something is inside the room beside me. Something dark with malicious intents. Then I began to notice the various corners of the room were exceptionally dark, except one of them stood out. It was pure black, blacker than that of the blackest sky. The more I stare at it the brighter the other corners seemed. Then she appeared right above me, her crimson red hair was swinging as I began to lose my sanity, all the while fondling with my hair as if I was hers to own. I didn’t want to even look at her face even if it meant my death. Then she just stopped, the room didn’t seem so dark anymore. It’s as if she lost interest in me. I checked my surroundings over and over and over again until I realized that she wasn’t here anymore. Then I began crying hysterically until I was tired enough to sleep.
I was in the lake again; this time it was still. The place was so silent that I can hear my own heartbeat. The fog began to thicken; I knew that it wasn’t over yet. She wanted me, she wanted my head and nothing’s going to stop it. Before I knew it she was right in front of me. She gave a blank expression as if she was waiting for a response. I felt like if I gave the wrong answer she would kill me on the spot. However, I knew I was going to die either way but I didn’t care. I looked at her, smiled at her, then said: “Insanity must be a pretty thing to have”. She smiled back at me, but this time it wasn’t a horrifying, psychotic smile but a rather warm but gentle smile. “Aye, it sure is,” she said. Gently she inserted a bright red rose as beautiful as her into my palms. “I bid you farewell, may this be a reminder to you that for whatever reason you choose to come here again, I will welcome you as one of my children and I will protect you even at the cost of my life,” she said.
I woke up the next day as if the whole situation had never happened. I also noticed that the rose was still in my palms. I looked at the window and smiled at the view. “Insanity is a precious thing, right mother?”
CREDIT : Arale R. Subrata
Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged Ghost by cnkguy with no comments yet.
16 Apr, 2018
Reading Time: 7 minutes
I was never at all superstitious. from what I can remember I always looked at life from a practical sense. I was always in the present, I liked my practicality and realism, it was my favorite part of myself.
I had a passion for interior design and home furnishings, I liked to think of myself as an artist. When I was not at work I would often browse the internet, I had my own blog. I posted photos of my home and interior design, and some of the artwork and interior designs my friends made, we would often collaborate on home projects, we were obsessed with it.
One day I went to my local IKEA, to get some inspiration for a home project. I often went to IKEA to browse, I enjoyed getting lost in the endless hallways and rooms, each with a different setup to stimulate my imagination. I often imagined what a furniture piece would look like in my home, although I didn’t have much money, and it would be cheaper just to make one. I came across something very odd during my last visit to IKEA. It was nothing much to look at, it was a vintage high back chair with a wooden frame and dull white cushions on the seat and the back. This was odd because IKEA didn’t sell chairs like this, as for me I had a more modern taste, I never made or bought anything like this. I was curious and decided to get a closer look, It had a label, but it was not specific in the least, it red “The Chair”. No logo, no brand, no price, nothing but “The Chair”.
It did not look like it was very comfortable, but I was intrigued and decided to sit anyway. it was the most comfortable chair I had ever sat on in my life. I felt myself slowly mold into the chair, despite this being unusual, since it was only a small wooden chair with sown on cushions. I could feel my body growing more and more tired, I didn’t want to fall asleep in the middle of a store, so I tried to get up, My body wouldn’t let me. My eyelids were beginning to close, I forced them open, but it was useless. I called for some assistance, but no one answered. In fact no one seemed to notice me at all. I made another attempt to will my tired body out of the chair, my arms began to shake as I pushed on the arm rests on the chair, I managed the strength to lift my body a few inches off the chair, but my fatigue got the best of me, and I slammed down on the chair, panting.
I tried everything possible to keep myself awake, but my eyes began to close without me even noticing, I caught myself just in time, my eyes closed for only a millisecond, but when I opened my eye again I saw that the only people left were security guards and janitors, they still payed no attention to me. I turned to gaze out the window, I saw the moon and the empty parking lot, it was night time, the store was closed.
I tried again to get myself out of the chair, I could not move. I screamed at the top of my lungs, which at this point was just a quiet cry. The janitor that was moping the floor right next to me should have been able to hear me, but he remained unaware of my existence. the louder I screamed, the more tired I became. And I could feel my eyes closing again, there was nothing I could do.
This time it felt like more time passed than a millisecond, maybe a minute or two, but when I awoke there was no one. I looked around, all the furniture items had vanished apart from the chair I was sitting on, it was just a big empty warehouse. I looked out the window, the moon, the sky and the parking lot had gone, my view was pitch black, it looked as if the windows were blacked out. At this point I couldn’t scream, I could barely move my mouth. I noticed a tingling in my lower back, I couldn’t do anything but sit there in utter discomfort. I didn’t want to close my eyes again.
The discomfort only got worse, the tingling was felt under my arms, and all through my back, my shirt felt as if it were attaching itself to my skin. My eyes would not close now, the discomfort drew on, and on, and on. Until finally I drifted to sleep once again.
I awoke to find that all the lights had gone out, I felt like I was being watched, I could no longer turn my head. A shiver ran down my spine, and throughout my entire body. My mind ran rampant, I could not rationalize this, utter terror was the only thing running through my head. I heard small scampering movements, I saw in the darkness what looked like a man, standing there and staring at me, What was going on?
The last time I fell asleep, I was not even aware I had drifted out of consciousness, but when I woke up I found IKEA’s structure crumbling, the walls and floor had faded to a dirt yellow, there were various cracks and holes in the building, and out the window was the sun, blaring at what seemed like triple what it normally emitted, there were no items on display, but there were a few shopping carts, that were knocked over and gathering dust.
I sat there in the chair for what seemed like weeks, there was no pain, but I knew I was being tortured, there is all kinds of torment after all. I could not move, I could not turn my head, I was completely paralyzed, The only thing I could feel were the shivers, and increasing pressure. I wanted to fall asleep, but I could not, I wanted to get out of the chair, but I could not.
I sat there, my mind was racing but my body lay completely motionless, the utter lack of motion was torture enough, and by the second it just got more uncomfortable and more stiff. Eventually, after what felt like months, I managed to make a slight head turn, it turned into shaking. I could feel my body getting heavier, and I felt the wooden legs of the chair shaking, they began to crack, and after about 3 hours of uncontrollable shaking, the the chair broke.
My eyes closed for an instant, and when I opened I found that I was back in the store at the very instance I has sat on the chair. Everyone was staring at me. The chair lay there, its 4 legs snapped off and the back was cracked. I could move again. And I could see an irritated young employee approaching me.
“Excuse me sir, Your going to have to pay for that.” He told me
“Y-Yes, of course” I stammered. I looked at the tag again, this time it had red “LATE 19TH CENTURY FRENCH ART NOUVEAU LILY WHITE ARMCHAIR, $2 250.00”
I went to the counter and payed with my credit card, I asked him if he could throw the chair out for me, I told him that since it was broken I had no use for it, He agreed.
I raced out of that store, and I did not look back.
I abandoned my car, I walked, I did not want to sit down at all. I tried my best to make sense of that I had just been through, It was too vivid for a dream, yet once I broke the chair it was like nothing had happened. I found myself shaking still, and decided to stop for some chamomile tea for my nerves. I wanted to call my friends and tell them everything I had been through, but I knew they wouldn’t believe me. I knew of sleep paralysis, I researched the symptoms, they matched what I felt during my time in the chair. But there was nothing on the internet to explain the eyes, nor the changes in landscape between sleeps.
I had my car towed, I lived relatively far away, it was a long walk home. I was beginning to tire out. By the time I reached my neighborhood it was dark out. I wanted to believe that it wasn’t true. I wanted to rationalize, but that was no longer possible. I came across my friend Simon’s house, and decided to go in for a visit.
Simon let me stay at his place for the night, I just told him that my car slid into a ditch, and had to be towed, and that I was too tired to walk any further, Simon advised me to sit down, but I had refused. Simon said he had to run to the store, to buy some wood for a project. I did not want to be left alone, but I told myself it would be fine. I did not sit down at all. I pulled out my computer and decided to check my blog, I did not know what I was expecting, but I always liked to check.
I saw a post I had never made before, it was a photo of the chair, you know which one I mean. There was a caption: This antique French armchair is so cozy you won’t ever want to get up! You will be so comfortable, you’ll lose track of time!.
I froze up. Closed the lid of my laptop, and decided to go to bed, I was I went upstairs to the guest room. I was still quite paranoid, and afraid to rest, but I was growing more tired by the second, and maybe some rest would do me some good. The guest room didn’t have a bed, all it had was a vintage high back chair with a wooden frame and dull white cushions on the seat and the back. I was too tired to resist.
That is where I am now, It has been 3 days, though time is hard to tell. Simon probably thought I had left and returned to my house, as he came into my new room many times now and hasn’t noticed me once. I know I will fall asleep soon, I can feel myself growing more and more tired every time I press a key, but I had to get my message across. You never know what can happen in life, you never know what to trust, if you take a seat, you may never get back up.
CREDIT : Collicun Redeia
Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged Ghost by cnkguy with no comments yet.
15 Apr, 2018
Reflections of the Majorette
Reading Time: 14 minutes
Tap. Tap. Tap.
It must be raining.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Blaire rolled over.
Damn tree branch.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She pushed the blanket off her head and surveyed the darkness from where she lay in bed. Beyond the crack in the window curtains on the other side of the bedroom, a sliver of the weird white winter night sky fell across the floor in a thin line of defused light. The alarm clock on the nightstand beside the bed displayed 11:59 P.M. for a moment, then it blinked a faint red flicker, and it was midnight. Instead of getting up right away and turning on the light, Blaire lay in the darkness and waited for her sight to adjust to the low light. The details of the bedroom came slowly into a sort of shadowy focus . . .
The doors to the hallway and closet door were closed. The door to the bathroom connected to the bedroom hung slightly ajar. Clothes lay scattered about the floor; clean on one side, dirty on the other (although they overlapped several places). A perfectly good half-empty dresser stood in a corner.
Blaire got up, went to the window, and peered through the crack in the curtains. She expected it to be rain, but the entire visible area of the apartment complex below was dry, and even from where she was standing at a height of three stories above it all, it was apparent that not a single drop of rain had fallen while she had been asleep. She glanced back at the alarm clock. It displayed 12:15 A.M.
Still standing in front of the window in the over-sized T-shirt she had gone to bed in, Blaire considered the tapping sound she had heard upon awakening. It could’ve been a leftover sound from a dream, one she’d mostly forgotten upon awakening. That seemed like a reasonable explanation.
Before the guilt and depression could rise to the surface of her mind, she broke away from the window, crossed the bedroom, opened the door to the short hallway, and stepped into the darkness. She emerged in the living room a moment later, twisted a dimmer switch, and crossed into the connected kitchenette. Then, with enough to find her way in the cupboards, she set about brewing a pot of coffee in the dimly lit ambience. She preferred it this way in odd hours of the night, when she found herself awake and unable to return to sleep, when that one loathsome rain-swept night
(when the headlights washed over him)
swam too close to the surface of her thoughts.
(and she slammed on the brakes)
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She paused, holding a bottle of powdered creamer in one hand, unsure if she had heard anything or if she had only imagined that she had heard something. It had been too faint to tell. She could not be certain.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
She set the creamer on the counter, raised one cupped hand to her ear, turned in a slow semi-circle, stopped facing the short hallway, and stood there listening for a moment. She didn’t realize that both her arms and legs had broken out in gooseflesh. But she was aware of the icy shiver that passed down her spine.
Certain she had heard something the second time, which by extension assured her that she’d also heard something the first time, she approached the hallway threshold, moving quietly for reasons she had not yet contemplated.
Unable to confirm the source of the sound, she glanced at the front door of the apartment, which lay only half a dozen paces away to from her to the right. Her purse was on the counter beside the door. Her keys were hooked to her purse. But she didn’t more toward those things, for she did not feel threatened. Besides, her feet were bare and she had no trouble keeping the silence of the night. If the need to escape should arise, although she didn’t think it would, she would be able to flee from her apartment to her silver Honda in the parking lot the short order. The longer she stood at the mouth of the hallway the less likely she thought there was anything dangerous lurking in the dark hall from which she had come. And to be perfectly logical about it, if somebody else was in the apartment, and if that somebody else intended to do her harm, then they would’ve already done so by now. They could have attacked her while she was sleeping . . . or, they could have snuck up behind her while she was standing in front of the window.
There was nothing to fear.
Well, nothing except for the damn rats. The wretched little thing could have crawled up through the plumping and become trapped in the bathroom connected to the bedroom. It made sense . . . in a way.
Blaire returned to the kitchen, opened one of the lower cupboards, and grabbed hold of a formidable iron skillet with a decent amount of weight to it. Although it was over a foot in diameter, she knew she would still have to move in close to slay the varmint, but the thought of just going back to sleep and calling the handyman in the morning without knowing whether or not the noise had been made by a rat was far more intolerable than smashing the disease-carrying invader into a blood spattered mess of dead rat paste. She could deal with this on her own. There was no reason to wait on the handyman.
There was really nothing to fear.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Moving in a slow and deliberate manner, she went down the hall back to the bedroom and switched on a lamp. Soft yellow light flooded the bedroom. It lent the white walls a creamy sort of skin color and made her bare legs look much tanner than they actually were in reality.
The bathroom door still hung slightly ajar. The light beyond it was switched off. She flattered a few steps before she reached the door, considered turning around, grabbing her phone from the nightstand, calling one of her guy friends to come deal with it (or the police), and then she went on. She stopped again directly in front of the door. Beyond the door, she again heard the faint tapping sound.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Blaire took a deep breath, raised the iron skillet in a murderous rat-killing arc with both hands over her head, lifted on foot off the ground, and gave the door a swift, dainty kick with the flat part of her foot, and stepped back, prepared for a possible rush-attack from the rat. The door swung inward on its hinges, revealing a bare bathroom floor bathed in a slant of murky light cast by the lamp in the bedroom behind her. No rat.
Reaching around the doorway, she flipped the light switch on, and glanced about the corners. She still didn’t see a rat. She pulled the shower curtain back. It was empty. Then her eyes fell to the cabinet under the sink and certainty rose in her mind like a bloated corpse
(the car loses traction on the slick road)
forcing its way free from a shallow grave.
(the bearded old man—the whino—tumbles over the hood)
She opened the cabinet and stepped back, again expecting to be rushed. But nothing rushed out of the cabinet. There were a few rolls of toilet paper and some feminine hygiene products underneath but that was it. She crouched down to have a better look and poked around the cupboard with the iron skillet, not really expecting to find anything at this point, considering that everything inside the cupboard was intact and nothing had been chewed up. There was nowhere else for a rat to hide. She didn’t understand where the strange noise had come from.
Had it been like that before?
Tap. Tap. Tap.
No. Surely it hadn’t.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Then she understood and her skin broke out in gooseflesh.
It was coming from the wall behind the mirror.
Standing up, Blaire regarded her reflection in the bathroom mirror with an air of suspicion and her reflection regarded her in the same way with the same cool eyes. Blaire had never quite learned to trust in her mirrored image. Her reflection looked tired and worn out, as though Blaire had been tossing and turning all night, grappling with some nightmarish phantasmagoria in her sleep, and damn was her hair a mess.
Then, from the wall behind the mirror, there was another thumping sound. Blaire was sure what had just happened.
Things were starting to get mixed up in her head.
(then she has an idea)
There was a crash of splintered wood.
(and she shifts from drive to reverse)
It sounded a lot like a door being kicked in.
(or a skull being crushed)
Under a car tire.
(popping like a pumpkin full of red Kool-Aid)
Blaire spun around, completely disheveled now, unknowingly issuing a tiny shriek of fright, and listened to the silence. But surveying the bedroom and the hallway beyond, she could detect no change in the apartment or sign of intrusion. But before she could take comfort in those observations, another thump came from directly behind her.
She turned slowly back to the mirror, looked back at her reflection, and for a moment, they were the same, then her reflection broke character, Even though both of Blaire’s hands remained clamped firmly at her sides, her reflection raised one hand on its side of the mirror and thumped on the glass. It was as though her reflection wanted to get Blaire’s attention. There was nothing menacing about it—
She might just be having a really crazy hallucination or something.
Blaire had no doubt that even a creepazoid like Sigmund Feud would find something like this perplexing. But then she caught sight of a secondary movement in the mirror, this time behind her reflection, which was still thumping on the glass, like a semi-catatonic victim of some unspeakable horror. Behind her reflection, Blaire caught a brief glimpse of a shadowy figure in the living room. It ducked out of sight before she could grasp its form in greater detail.
Her reflection stopped thumping on the mirror, glanced back, and looked Blaire directly in the eyes. For a fleeting moment, Blaire thought they were almost the same again. Then her reflection opened its mouth.
Run, her reflection said, mouthing the word without sound.
Instead of running, Blaire lifted her hands and held them before her with her palms face-up. They were shaking. Then, still holding her hands before her, she looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her reflection seemed to have completely abandoned the physics in which it was supposed to operate, for it was now half-turned away from Blaire, watching the hallway. Looking past her reflection in the mirror, Blaire saw the figure making its way down the hallway, walking with a drunken canter to its step. However, when Blaire turned away from the mirror, she saw nothing in the real-world hall hallway behind her. She wasn’t sure what was going on here, if she was really awake, or how exactly it was possible for this to be happening. It was insane.
But it was happening.
As the figure
(the whino come back from the dead)
stepped into the bedroom on the other side of the mirror, it didn’t enter the bedroom the real-world side of the mirror. Her reflection took a step back, bumped back into the counter, and then the figure
(she hadn’t meant to hit him that night)
seized her reflection by the hair, twisting the half-rotten fingers of his purple-blue hand around in her hair so that her reflection would not be able to yank free. The whino made her reflection turn around to face Blaire. Her reflection squirmed and tried to break free, but the monstrous supernatural whino of the mirror-world had no trouble forcing her reflection to stay right where he wanted it to.
“No!” Blaire shouted. “No! No! No!”
Her reflection struggled harder, as though it didn’t want to face Blaire, as though it didn’t want to face the young woman who had once been a younger woman who had accidentally murdered the man holding it against its will.
“Don’t hurt her!” Blaire shouted. “Don’t you even think about it?”
The whino bared its few remaining teeth, yellow and decayed.
“Y-You . . . You better not even think about hurting her.” Me . . .
The whino lifted her reflection off the ground, one hand grabbing it by the back of its hair, the other grabbing it under the arm. Blaire screamed. But it didn’t stop the whino. He lifted her reflection into the air and bludgeoned its face against into the porcelain counter top. There was no sound. But blood flew everywhere. Blaire began to scream. The whino bludgeoned her reflection a second time. And now Blaire was screaming and screaming and screaming. After the third time, her reflection stopped struggling, and after the fourth bludgeoning, her reflection went limp. The whino held the corpse up for Blaire to inspect after the fifth time. He was grinning.
Paralyzed with fear and still unable to head her reflections previous advice to run, Blaire stood suddenly very silent and very still at the threshold of the bathroom in the real-world, uncertain how exactly her reflection could be dead and she could still be alive. Then the whino bit into her reflection’s neck and proceeded to rip its head out. Blood covered everything. The floor, the walls, the sink, the mirror, the ceiling, all got drenched in red within a minute. Blaire’s lip trembled. Her legs were shaking. By the time the whino had finished decapitating her reflection, a dark chasm had opened in solid ground of Blaire’s mind and there was no longer anything too illogically or too impossible to be believed.
The whino tossed her reflection’s headless corpse to one side and her reflections corpses head to the other. Her reflection’s head lodged in the corner of the corner against the cabinet beneath the sink and the wall. One of its eyes was still visible and to Blaire’s horror it appeared to still be very much aware of what had just happened.
The whino climbed on the sink, looked at Blaire from the other side of the mirror. Then it raised a blood-streaked hand to the glass, pressed against it, and smeared the glass.
“Go away!” Blaire shouted. “You got what you wanted now just go away! It was an accident! And yeah I screwed up! You should know better than to expect a nineteen-year-old girl to always do the right thing! And you got your revenge! And I’m sorry!”
But the whino only shook his head. Its thoughts however resounded through Blaire’s mind: No, Blaire. No, I didn’t, not yet. And I’m just getting started with you.
“Please . . .”
The whino pressed against the glass. After a moment, Blaire realized it was trying to figure out how to reach her on this side of the mirror. Then the mirror rippled and pulsated, like the way the surface of a pond might rise when disturbed from below by some enormous monster a second before it rose from the depths. Blaire felt something warm run down her leg, and she was only vaguely aware in the most faraway sense that she had just urinated on herself.
The whino pressed harder against the mirror. The mirror stretched like a membrane against its figures. Blaire needed to move. The curvature of the mirror was thinning, and Blaire suddenly realized that the whino would soon birth itself from the mirror-world into the real world, and she had no doubt that he had very hostile intentions toward her. Finally taking her reflection’s advice to heart, Blaire turned and ran screaming bloody murder out of the bathroom.
Leaving the bathroom, bedroom, and hallway behind, she grabbed her purse and car keys off the counter in the kitchenette, seized the doorknob of the front door, yanked it around, and pulled. It rattled against the frame. It didn’t open. The mirror shattered in the bathroom, and although she only heard it, she knew he was coming, and just that was enough to send her into a greater panic. She yanked on the door, again. But it still held fast. Then she remembered the deadbolt (she had forgotten to unlock it in her state of panic). Once she flipped it back, she was able to open the door with no problem, and then she was running down the outside corridor of the apartment complex toward the stairs. She descended all four flights of stairs somehow without losing her footing. Then she was dashing across the parking lot, her bare feet pounding against the cold asphalt.
When she reached her car, she glanced back over her shoulder at the apartment complex. The figure leapt from the fourth floor staircase, landed on the concrete sidewalk. Then it stood up and headed in her direction at a dead run. She fumbled with the keys hooked on the strap of her purse, without bothering to detach them, trying to get the driver-side door unlocked.
It seemed like an eternity, but in reality it didn’t take long until the door clicked, opened, and she was swinging it open. She keyed the ignition first try, and the engine roared to life. Then, as she reached for the door, a bloodstained hand grabbed her by the front of her shirt and the nightmarish face howled into face. As the nightmarish figure tried to pull her out of her car, she yanked the door shut with the full extent of her strength. The door connected with its head and crunching sound of breaking bone was extremely satisfying. Its hold on her loosened. She put the car in reverse, and floored the accelerator. Her car literally exploded out of her parking spot, hooking out to the right. She reversed until the figure was about fifty feet in front of the car. Then she braked, which slammed the driver-side door shut, and shifted into drive. The figure was limping toward her. She switched on her high-beams and floored the accelerator pedal. The figure raised a hand to the light, there was a satisfying thump, and then it was rolling around screaming in pain on the pavement in her rearview mirror. But even as she hooked a hard rubber-screeching turned out of the parking lot, she was pretty sure she saw getting up, and she sped down the road beyond the apartment complex the reckless abandon, turning down streets at random and ignoring traffic lights. When she saw the sign for the highway, she took it and brought the car up to 90 mph.
She kept a vigilant watch on her rearview mirror, terrified that her murderous pursuer would suddenly be sitting in the backseat, and each glance she cast upon the rear mirror haunted her, for her reflection was absent and she was alone. This was of course because her reflection was dead. It had been murdered. Yes, of course, of course, that made tons of sense. No, nothing made sense now. Her left arm lay useless in her lap, bent and twisted at a hideous angle; she had apparently left her phone on her nightstand, unless it had fallen out of her purse during the first stage of her escape; and her car smelled like piss. The car only had a quarter tank of gas, a quick check of her purse revealed that she had no money, and she was barefoot. She was also not wearing any pants. She didn’t know what to do. She was afraid to stop. But she knew that she would eventually have to stop. Therefore, it made more sense to stop on her terms rather than wait until she had run the gas tank dry.
Fifteen minutes later, at one o’clock in the morning, she pulled off the highway. Terrified that if she stopped too long, the murderous figure would run out of the darkness, she pulled into deserted rest area, parked near a phone booth, opened the door, got out of the car, and headed for the phone booth.
She picked up the receiver and dialed 911.
“Hello,” a pleasant female voice said, “police, fire, or medical.”
“Police,” Blaire said. “I need the police.”
“Hang on sweetie. Can you tell me where you—”
“Somebody’s trying to kill me!” Blaire shouted.
Static erupted on the line.
“Hello,” Blaire said. “Are you still there?”
“Bitch,” a guttural male voice said.
It had to be her pursuer.
“You fucking bitch.”
“You didn’t give me a phone call—”
“It w-was an a-a-accident.”
“—and I damn sure ain’t gonna let you have one.
“I d-d-d-didn’t m-m-m-mean too.”
”I’m gonna make you suffer.”
A cold hand fell on her shoulder. She didn’t need to turn around. She knew who stood behind her now, boxing her into the phone booth and blocking her escape. It was him. His fetid breath fell on the back of her neck, cold and rotten, like something that had been buried in the smell of its own decay for some length of time best kept unknown and left disremembered in the bowels of memory. He had her trapped. There would be no escape. The tears were rolling down her cheeks now.
“It’s time for you to die,” he whispered.
He yanked her hair, seizing her by the back of her head, and slammed her face into the telephone unit.
Pain exploded in her face.
The telephone unit filled her vision a second time.
And everything went black.
* * *
Detectives Darrel Flannigan and Clint Saunders arrived at the scene of the homicide at seven forty-five the following morning. They got out of their unmarked police sedan, ducked under the yellow tape that read POLICE LINE DO NOT CROSS, and approached the body lying in the grass beside the telephone booth. There was a cluster of little yellow placards surrounding the telephone booth. There was more tape and another cluster of cones surrounding a silver Honda fifty feet away. A couple of beat cops were standing around, and a forensic technician was taking pictures, but the rest area was otherwise deserted. Flannigan was eating a bagel. Saunders was smoking a cigarette.
Flannigan and Saunders crouched down beside the body. The victim was dressed in an oversized T-shirt and a pair of piss-stained panties. There was a large gash above one of the victim’s eyebrows and part of the skull near the temple was misshapen.
“Cranial fracture,” Saunders said.
“Probably,” Flannigan said.
“You remember that big shot lawyer’s daughter?”
Flannigan nodded. “He’s a judge now.”
“I heard his daughter was being investigated for a hit-and-run last year.”
“Senior year of high school, was it that kind of deal?”
“Yeah,” Saunders said. “But she was never arrested.”
“Case file just sort of disappeared?”
Saunders nodded. “I think she was the majorette in the marching band.”
“I remember now, sort of.”
“Do you remember her name?” Saunders asked, looking at the victim.
“No,” Flannigan said. “But we can just run the plates and figure it out.”
“Did you know they had a body?”
“Flannigan shook his head. “Don’t tell me that also disappeared?”
Saunders raised an eyebrow. “You know what I think?”
“You think her daddy bribed the DA.”
“Or he bribed the chief of police.”
“And that’s just to start with.”
“Well,” Saunders said. “You know how the old saying goes.”
“Rich girls don’t go to jail.”
CREDIT : Scott Landon
Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged Ghost by cnkguy with no comments yet.
13 Apr, 2018
DO NOT ENTER 9 TWIN LAKES ROAD
Reading Time: 22 minutes
Personal journal entries of Chris Parker
3/14/2013 – 22:55
Today I arrived at Lakeworth. It was afternoon and I decided to buy enough groceries to last me the weekend. After that I went straight for Road 116 where Dan told me the little summer house his parents owned was. He said it was the last house down the road, somewhat into the forest and that it would be perfect for my needs, which were to isolate myself from society and gain some inspiration from nature.
I drove down 116 and passed a few houses, until there was a big gap of just trees and forest vegetation. I passed a big wooden fence, where the paved road transformed into a dirt road that went through a big semi opened metal gate. I got out the car and pushed the gate open. Then I kept driving for a few more minutes. Finally, a two-story wooden house appeared. Dan told me it would be the last house down the road and indeed the road ended just there, leaving just a narrow path into the forest that no car could enter. The house was surrounded by a wooden fence and a big red gate. The gate was not locked so I opened it and parked my car in the front yard of the house. There was a trail of a recently dried-out creek that seemed to have flowed right under the gate and into the forest. Perhaps it formed when the ground was flooded in the rainy season. Since Dan’s parents didn’t know I was about to borrow their summer house for a month, he didn’t give me a key. But he told me they hid a key under a porch, in a small gap between the deck boards. Well, I didn’t find the key, there were LOTS of gaps in the deck and I tried the look in the obvious ones, but it wasn’t there. Then I tried just opening the door, and it was unlocked. I did find a spare key above the door frame inside the house, so yay! The place was very nice and cozy, although a bit dusty. I unpacked everything and settled in. Since at this point it was already getting pretty dark, I decided to just chill in front of the fireplace and relax with a book.
3/15/2013 – 21:48
This place is great. It already has pretty much everything a person needs for some time to live in seclusion. I found an – old but in working order – record player and a bunch of records. There’s an old TV here that has an old RCA connection, so I can’t really use it with my HDMI laptop output. The bed is comfy, and I love the relaxing sounds of the fireplace.
I took an hour long walk today in the forest and decided that I would go camping sometime next week. I was supposed to go back to the town today but when I came back from my little forest hike, I felt a huge burst of inspiration. I had tons of canvases and oil paints stashed away in the car, so I put them to good use and spent the rest of the day painting.
Even better, there is no cell reception here. In fact, I was thinking of leaving my cell phone somewhere to get disconnected, so there’s no need to do that now. I would just have to buy DVDs or download movies I want right down to my laptop when I’m connected to the network in town, so I can watch them offline later when I’m home. There is a landline phone that I can use if I need, and that will be enough for me.
4/16/2013 – 01:55
In the morning I went to town to get some supplies I was missing and also picked up an HDMI to RCA connector for the TV. It worked pretty well but I got a weak signal of some satellite TV channel that overlapped with my laptop’s input. Anyway, I could only notice it when everything was completely quiet. I’ve spent the rest of the day painting and in the evening, I went to a local bar to have a beer and eat something and try to mingle a bit with the locals. On my first day in town I saw a few cute girls walking around and I thought I might see them again if I go out. At that bar, “The Claw”, I met a nice local guy named Denise. We drank a couple of beers each and talked about the town and our lives. I found out he ran the grocery store where I previously bought the food for the weekend. Apparently, he inherited the business from his father that passed away some six months ago. I was sorry to hear that since he seemed like a really nice guy. Later I caught a glance from a cute blonde girl, she looked at me for a second and the turned away shingly. She acted a bit weird after that. A parking car’s headlights shone through the big window behind her, and she looked a couple of feet to the left of me and seemed somewhat confused, then a friend of hers shouted something and the whole group she was with started laughing. The girl joined them and seemed to have forgotten about me.
Anyway, Denise and I switched numbers and decided to meet again soon.
3/17/2013 – 11:22
Today I started planning out my upcoming camping trip, I didn’t bring any camping supplies like a tent or a sleeping bag, so I had to buy or borrow them from someone. So I called Denise to check out with him. He got worried for a moment and told me not to go too deep into the woods. He told me that there’s a “really bad” place in the forest that everyone in town keeps away from. I’m not sure if he’s trying to prank me or what. When I tried to question him further He was extremely reluctant to talk about it. Eventually he just made me promise I won’t go camping until we meet in a couple of days when he’d tell me all about it.
3/19/2013 – 22:14
I’m not sure how seriously I should take what Denise told me today, but I decided not to go on with my camping plan anyway. We ate and chatted for a while, and then Denise told me about his father. He told me that he’s father didn’t really die in natural circumstances. I wasn’t sure at first if it was some weird sense of humor he had but when he kept talking I figured that he really believed what he was saying. He told me that his father was haunted, or more exactly, stalked by a strange being. Him, and his father’s friend didn’t know what it was, and tried helping him to get rid of the thing, with the help of exorcists and what not, but nothing helped. His father then left to live in an old hunting shack that their family owned, deep inside the forest, where he lived his remaining years until he died, which was not long ago. Denise told me that after he had died, they left the place and put up a huge warning sign that nobody could miss if they stumbled upon this place.
I told him that I couldn’t not be skeptic about this story, that I’m an atheist and do not believe in ghosts and supernatural beings. Denise accepted that but asked me (actually- he almost begged me) not to enter or even go near this place in case I do go on a hike on the forest. I asked him what would happen to me, but he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. He just told me to stay away from this place, and to not even get close to the cabin itself. “Whatever you do, don’t let the shadow of the building touch you” he said.
I’m confused. I don’t believe stuff like that, but I’m convinced Denise was serious about everything he said. Anyway, tomorrow I’ll take a short hike in the forest and look for this place. Denise did spook me a bit so if I find it I’ll stay away. I’ll also take a pair of binoculars to get a closer look at this place.
3/20/2013 – 13:31
I’m a bit creeped out right now.
After I ate breakfast I proceeded on my planned hike into the forest. Since yesterday, I got really curious about what supposedly lurked in those woods. Just as I left the house, I noticed there was a nail in the gate, but nothing was attached to it, so I figured there once was a house number that was lost to the weather. I walked along the dirt road into the woods, noticing the trail of the dried-out creek I saw when I first arrived here a week ago. I wondered how far this stream of water went so I stepped off the pathway and went after the trail of dried water. After not more than a hundred yards, hidden in the bushes I saw something that sent shivers up my spine. It was a large sign that had probably fallen from the gate of my house and flowed down the stream. The sign read
“DO NOT ENTER THIS PROPERTY. KEEP A DISTANCE OF AT LEAST 30 FEET AT ALL TIMES”
For a moment I was genuinely frightened. I wasn’t sure what to do. But then I calmed myself down and realized that nothing has happened to me since I arrived here, so all of this was probably just a story after all. I walked around the house to see if there was something scary about it that I should have noticed, but there was nothing. It was the same cozy little place I grew to like in the past few days.
Since my mood was still a bit spooked out, I gave up my little hike for a while. I also don’t really want to talk to Denise cause he’ll probably get all crazy and stuff.
3/22/2013 – 12:50
FUCK MY LIFE
3/22/2013 – 15:16
AM I LOSING IT?
After what happened this morning, I ran away from that damned house as fast as I could. I couldn’t think straight for the past few hours. I’m not even sure if I’m awake or dreaming. I just talked to Denise again. I can’t believe he was right all along.
OK, I have to get my thoughts straight. What I saw today, I don’t want to think about that, but I have to give an account of everything that took place. Jesus, I’m getting my eyes tearing up just thinking about this.
When I woke up this morning I looked at the wall in front of my bed. My room, I mean, the bedroom in that damned house, is actually the whole second floor of the place. There was a desk across the room with a rotating office chair. When I woke up I lay in bed for a few moments. The sun was still low enough to shine through the window and illuminate the wall on the other side of the room. And then I saw it.
It was the most horrifying thing I’ve ever seen in my life. On the illuminated part of the wall, I saw the shadow of a person, sitting in the office chair, facing my way, staring at me.
I’m not sure if I screamed or not, but in the next moment, I was on my legs out of the bed. But then I looked at the chair, and there was nothing. The chair was facing me because that’s how I left it after I finished sitting in it last night. For a moment I thought I just imagined everything, but then I looked at she shadow again. It was still there, a shadow of a person just sitting in the chair and facing me.
I don’t remember much of what happened after. I was so terrified I couldn’t think much. I think that for a moment I wanted to jump out the window, but I didn’t. Or at least I think I didn’t. In a few moments I was in the car driving like crazy. Somehow, I got to the town.
First thing I did was finding a phone booth and calling Denise. He flipped when I told him that not only did I “touch” the shadow of the house, but actually lived in it for a week. And of course, just as I needed him most, he was out of town. He told me to get a motel room, preferably a small one, and to buy a flashlight with enough batteries to change many times, and a laser pointer.
I stopped at a nearby shop and bought like a dozen flashlights and laser pointers, and I don’t know how many packs of batteries.
I think I now understand why I need them. I need something that could produce enough light for something to cast a shadow…for that…thing…to cast a shadow.
But I’m too damn afraid. I don’t want to see it again. Calmly staring at me again.
I can’t stay in this motel room right now. I have to go outside. But I don’t know where.
3/22/2013 – 23:47
I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep tonight. That thing is stalking me constantly. I tried experimenting with it today. First of all, I noticed that the shadow is of a person that is always at the same distance from me. Whenever I move, that thing disappears, and when I look for it again with the laser pointer or flashlight, it stands in a different direction so that there are no obstacles that would prevent it from being at its usual distance, of about 25-30 feet. When I’m in a small room that doesn’t contain such lengths, it waits outside, still at the same distance. Of course, I tried throwing shit at it, but things just went right through like there was nothing there at all. I’m starting to wonder whether I could get used to it and just live the rest of my life with a silent companion.
I can’t believe I got myself into this shit.
Fucking Dan! Couldn’t you give me normal directions to a normal house?
3/23/2013 – 8:01
This was one of the worst nights of my life.
I couldn’t bring myself to turn off the lights. I kept imagining the worst possible things that could happen, and possible explanations for this nightmare. Needless to say I couldn’t sleep. I frantically searched the web for any information I could find about this thing but came up with nothing. I wonder if I’m just hallucinating everything…
3/23/2013 – 8:25
I just pointed the laser out of my motel room window for like 5 minutes and tried to find the thing but couldn’t see anything. Nothing blocked the little red dot. I hoped this thing just decided to go haunt someone else but didn’t really believe so. So…I exited the room and pointed it down the exterior corridor of the motel…and there it was. Some distance away the laser pointer was blocked. I’m not sure if it was my imagination but it seemed a bit closer than yesterday. I pointed it at the floor and that way I could see exactly where it disappeared. I moved it a bit right. The dot appeared again and when I kept moving it was blocked again. Two legs. It was standing right at that spot. I took my breath and moved two steps towards it. The thing disappeared. I counted my steps and estimated the stalking distance of the thing to be about 26 feet from me now. It was even closer than I thought. Then it struck me:
The thing is getting closer to me by the minute. And it was getting closer ever since I arrived at that damned house. And I was just naively painting and wasting precious time.
WHAT AM I GOING TO DO???
3/23/2013 – 11:12
I got a long measuring tape from the hardware store and decided to confirm my suspicion. I located the spot where the “feet” of the shadow began and remembered the spot and then measured the distance between where I was standing at the time to the spot. It turned out to be 26 feet 2inch. I am going to check that again this evening and calculate the speed at which it was getting closer.
3/23/2013 – 23:30
I am fucked.
I checked the distance again. It got closer by approximately 1.5 inch. If the thing creeps towards me at a constant rate it means it gain about 3 inches a day. FUCK
Tomorrow I’m gonna meet with Denise and get some damn answers.
At least I hope so.
3/24/2013 – 16:01
I met with Denise. The first thing he did was taking the laser pointer I had, and it wasn’t long before he located the stalker. He told me it was the same thing that haunted his father. He said that his father never found a way to get rid of his stalker, but he did find a way to make life more manageable. He also told me that this thing closes down on me at the rate of about 1 inch a day. At this point I had already established that it was going at me 3 inches a day and I was not happy to break him the news. I asked him what this thing was and where it came from, but he didn’t know. He was really sorry and told me he tried to warn me. Needless to say, I questioned him a lot, but he didn’t know much. Or at least he answered very vaguely.
He told me that he could not exactly tell how his father stopped the thing, but there was someone who could help me.
We sat down in a diner. We ordered food, but I couldn’t touch it. I couldn’t see the shadow at that time, but I knew it was out there. He asked me what I think this thing could be. I had no idea, but I started speculating. I told him that I didn’t think it was a ghost. First of all, I don’t believe in the supernatural. Secondly, he sees it too, and from what he’s told me, anyone else could see the stalking shadow too if they were looking. I entertained the idea it was a person in some top-secret invisibility suit, but it didn’t make any sense and besides, I already tried throwing stuff at it. Maybe it was alien I suggested. Denise didn’t answer but then he told me more about this friend of his father’s. His name was Brian and while he didn’t tell Denise much, he seemed to know a bit more about the thing. He said that he will contact him and that he believes that Brian will try to help me as much as he can.
I am back at the motel room. I’ve already drank pretty much every tiny booze bottle I could find in the little fridge. I’m not even sure this could help me sleep. I don’t have enough courage to look out the window with a flashlight.
3/30/2013 – 18:45
The last week was the worst week of my life…If you can call what has now become if it “life”. My existence has become a pure torment. I couldn’t shut an eye for the first two nights but then tiredness, with enough alcohol, got the best of me and I slept a bit most nights. My dreams where filled with nightmares. I constantly drifted in and out of sleep and dreamt the shadow was getting closer and closer to me. Sometimes I would wake up and could swear I see the thing sitting and staring at me, and then I would realize I imagined or dreamt it. I became obsessed with checking the thing’s location every day. Last night I filled up with enough courage to look for the thing with a flashlight at nighttime. While the laser pointer was just a red dot that was blocked when I pointed that at the stalker, the flashlight showed a whole shadow. The moment I saw it I wanted to scream. I was totally traumatized from that morning I woke up in the forest house, and instead of the trauma healing, things only got worse and worse. I could feel the thing was creeping closer all the time.
When I walked around town, to meet with Denise or just get food I constantly checked my surrounding with the laser pointer. I was obsessed. I am now constantly fearing this thing to suddenly jump at me, suddenly start to move faster. Every single time I search for it with the laser pointer I am expecting it to be right behind me, I can sometimes feel the hairs of the back of my neck stiffen, but when I look for the thing with my laser pointer – and by now I got really good in locating it within seconds – It’s still pretty far away from me, about the same distance it was before, but just a tiny bit closer.
I started feeling like my time is getting shorter and shorter. What was coming for me seemed to be worse than death. I cannot imagine what happens when this thing comes for me, and I can’t say the thought of putting an end to this pathetic excuse for a life hasn’t crossed my mind.
And so far, no silver lining has shined. Although I’m meeting with Denise every day, he can’t really help me other than offering me his mental support, but he did not agree to come sleep with me even once. He’s too terrified of that thing, and I can’t blame him. And Brian, that damn bastard did not contact me, neither Denise since he first called him. Denise told me that Brian had to check some things before he could help and did not hear from him since.
4/04/2013 – 17:16
A bit less even. At this point I always carried a bag with batteries, a measuring tape and of course, my flashlight and laser pointer.
But today, finally something less bad has happened. Brian contacted me. Actually, he knocked on my door. He arrived at town without warning. Denise had told me to stay put, and so I waited and waited until that day came.
And he explained to me everything he knew.
He told me that Denise’s father, Steven was his name, and him, served together at area 51.
Back in 1974 the military had brought in something unidentified. They were positive it was not man made. Brian said that analysis of the materials it was made of could not match it to any material found on earth. In fact, they could not even find any resemblance to any known material. Steven was an officer that served there. He was leading a team that was ordered to slice the object open. Him and five more soldiers worked on hit. When the object finally broke, something had happened to them. All of them were “cursed”. Each of the five soldiers, acquired a stalker of his own. Each moving in his own pace and going after them.
One of the less fortunate soldiers had an especially quick stalker. The poor man could not handle it, and he eventually blew his own head. But, that’s how they found out about “them”. No one could guess what those things were, but they found out that they could only get closer when the men were in places that were not blocked from electromagnetic waves. Quickly the army supplied Steven with a house that was built from walls containing a metal net that didn’t allow the thing to track him. The stalker still waited outside of Steven’s house and whenever he left the house it kept stalking and getting closer to him. But anytime Steven was home, he was safe.
This thing seemed to be some kind of alien, closing in on its target from another, maybe fourth or fifth dimension. That at least, was Brian’s own speculation.
Since then he lived in the house on road 116, the same cursed house I lived in for a few days. He told me that Steven had died of a heart attack. The long years with living with the stalker, even though he was partially neutralized had taken their toll on him.
The thing is, that once Steven died, the thing stayed attached to the house, and would keep stalking the next person in encounters from the same distance it left Steven. Brian told me that they were lucky Steven had managed to crawl out of the house before he died. Otherwise they would never be able to get his body out without entering the house.
Apparently, they knew all this from investigation of the 5 soldiers that participated in the area 51 incident. However, he did not know what happened with the other 3 soldiers, nor could he get any information from the army.
I talked about trying to contact the military, but he said it would be a bad idea. He put it that way: their only attempt to neutralize that thing was with supplying Steven with his first safehouse. And since it didn’t work, they might try more extreme methods, and since none of the other soldiers was ever heard from since the event. It wouldn’t wise of me to contact them.
I asked why the army let Steven just live in a normal town and didn’t do something to quarantine the house. He said that Steven was a special occasion. He had connections to some high ranked officers and pulled some strings.
I still don’t know what to make of Brian’s story. It didn’t totally add up but it was the best explanation I had. So, what I have to do now is find myself a house that I can make into my own shelter. Then I would have to work day and night to fortify it with the metal net that would work as a Faraday cage and block the thing from keep closing in on me.
4/10/2013 – 21:44
I bought a small house in Lakeworth today. I got it because it was far away from the rest of town, I didn’t want other people to have the accident I had. It is located in the woods to the east of town, on 9 Twin Lakes Road.
I just took it without even looking inside. I couldn’t of course. Brian told me that everything I was about to do would only work if the stalker never entered my future safehouse. Once it set foot there – it was compromised forever.
I already got tons of fine aluminum nets. Tomorrow, Brian, Denise and I will start working on the house. We will have to cover the thing completely for it to be safe.
5/05/2013 – 6:27
A month has passed since I had met Brian. A terrible sleepless month. The stalker was now close enough so that I could see its shadow almost in any closed place. In fact, If I stood at the corner of my motel room and point my flashlight at the farthest corner, I would see the shadow calmly standing there. I moved the bed as close to the center of the room as I could, so that the maximum distance between me and any wall would not be more than 10 feet.
You do not get used to it. By this time, I could only fall asleep by taking sleeping pills. I am always tired, I am always looking around and searching for shadows.
But perhaps today it will all be done. Brian, Denise and I worked constantly on the house. Applying multiple layers of aluminum nets over the walls, roof, windows, chimney, and any small gap we could find. We made it as strong as we could to minimize the chances of even the slightest radiation leak.
Brian and Denise constantly checked the house from the inside with electromagnetic spectrum analyzer and a few days ago it finely showed 0 EM transmissions. But to be sure we kept working on it.
This evening I will test the house. I will enter it the first time and will look around with my flashlight to see if the thing is there.
5/05/2013 – 23:31
I’m in…and it…is OUT!
It worked! The plan worked! Finally, I’m safe. I’m at a house arrest, yes, but at least I have something closer to a normal life now. The stalker is still out there, I already tried illuminating the surroundings of the house with a flashlight, and it was there, just outside the window, standing there, casting a huge shadow on the woods across the road. Fucking bastard. But I closed the curtain on it. I closed all the curtains and I was safe. Since by now the stalker got pretty close to me, once I opened the door to the house, he could be in the living room immediately because its radius was bigger than the distance of the stalker. So, we also installed a double door system, much like a spaceship airlock, in order to create a tiny space where I could enter, close both insulated doors and then open the inner house door.
And that’s how my life is going to be from now own.
At least I have some friends that could visit me. Dan came a few times since. He was horrified the first time he’s seen the shadow, but he still kept coming. Brian and Denise also seemed to get accustomed to the presence of the stalker, as much as one can. But that was pretty much everyone.
Still it’s better than nothing.
Happy life for me!
7/12/2013 – 20:18
I’ve been living in my little jail house for two months now. I am still haunted by nightmares, and I can still see the damn thing through the window every time I use my flashlight or laser pointer, at the closest distance possible to me from the outer side of the house. But it’s much better than before.
However, a few unanswered questions still bother me though. How exactly did that thing get into Steven’s house when he died? If it is alien why does it cast a person’s shadow? And where is the military now? Don’t they have some follow up on this whole story? Why does the stalker crawl faster to me than it did to Steven? Why did the army just leave Steven’s house to be and didn’t try to quarantine it?
Every time I try to question Brian about those things he answers vaguely or says that the most important thing is that I am safe now. However, he brought me a gun. He said that he hopes it doesn’t come to this, but just in case I ever need a fast way out. And in that case, he asked me to inform them of my decision and to execute it on the porch of the house.
I don’t like it.
11/12/2013 – 15:15
By now I got used to ordering everything I needed from stores with deliveries and used the double door system to receive the goods.
Lately my relationship with Brian deteriorated. He was reluctant to answer my questions, and I found the holes in his explanations more and more unsatisfying.
I thought a lot about all the unanswered questions I had when I suddenly realized something very disturbing. The house on road 116 didn’t have any mobile reception, which worked great with Brian’s explanations, but suddenly I remembered that the old TV set would catch satellite TV that I could barely hear over the movies I watched via the RCA connector.
Steven’s old house could not be blocking all EM transitions. So how could it serve as a safehouse? But then, my safehouse still works. Something is off.
Next time we meet I am about to confront Brian about that.
12/13/2013 – 23:45
Last week I invited Brian, Dan and Denise to celebrate an early Christmas with me (since none of them wanted to celebrate the real Christmas with a – supposedly – alien haunted Faraday cage).
After all of us drank some, I started questioning Brian again. As usual he answered the minimum and avoided the maximum he could. But then I dropped the Satellite TV observation on him and he got quiet.
He told me that it is now too late for him to hold back the truth anymore. Before, he had to lie to keep me safe but now there’s no choice for him but to tell me the truth because I was exposing too many holes in his story, and that was even more dangerous. Unfortunately, I now know why.
Brian’s explanations, apparently, where lies. All of them. In fact, Denise had told him everything he knew about me and together they tailored a story that I had the biggest chance in believing. And…they did all of that to protect me.
The first thing Brian told me was to remember that this is my safehouse and that it is already proven that the stalker could not enter it. He told me to be very aware of it, and to be sure that it could never change.
And then…the really disturbing part came. They had no idea what that stalker was. All they knew is that it couldn’t enter a place…if the person that was being stalked, truly believed it.
And I did, until now, but the moment they told me that, I felt my whole world was on the brink of shattering.
Steven got the stalker only a few years ago when he traveled in Ireland and accidentally entered a wrong hotel room, where he found a dead body hanging. The police arrived and the whole thing turned out to be suicide, and thus the stalker was attached to Steven. There was never an area 51 event. Steven was not even in the army. No 5 soldiers. No UFO. Nothing. Brian accidentally found that this creature, or whatever it was, responded to belief. He used it to protect Steven without telling him. But Steven found out about two years later. He did not make it long after. 3 months later, Steven got out on the porch of the house on 116 and shot himself in the head.
2/15/2016 – 20:20
I’ve been living in this madness for two years now.
I am not writing much anymore. Mostly because I’m too concentrated on not vocalizing or giving hold to my fears. I’m doing daily mental exercises to fortify my belief that this thing cannot enter my house.
In fact, I know it can’t enter my house.
It’s just that things can change much more easily than I thought before. If my trust would break, even for once, even for one moment, that thing will be inside. And then, never again will I be able to make a new safehouse.
I feel like my fears have been accumulating this whole time, and that the bubble will sometime burst.
Paradoxically painting terrifying paintings helps. It’s like I’m setting my fears free and letting them go. I’m practicing my mental exercises very hard and all-day long. I’m managing not to think anything that could make me less sure of the safety of my house, but sometimes, like once or twice a week I feel like I have to let the steam out. So I paint.
I usually paint shadows, in horrifying shapes and angles. And every time I finish a painting I throw it in the fireplace and watch it burn. It gives me a weird and warm fuzzy feeling.
I asked Denise to put warning signs around the house. Just in case I end up like his old man.
3/02/2018 – 21:23
I FUCKED UP BIG!!!~
OMG I CANT BELIEVE what happened today!!!! God help me!!
MY damn painting! How could I not burn it as usual??!
I ordered food, and the delivery came. Densie usually helps me but he couldn’t this time so I used the grocery stores delivery services. A yong guy came withmy food bags. The delivery car stood behind him with its headlights facing my way. I let him open the outer door and I noticed at the last second the inner one wasn’t totally closed. Ithink I managed to close it a split second before he opend the outer one, but I wasn’t sure, and this made me a bit unsure of my safehouse. I immediately started my mental exercise. And precisely at that moment the delivery guy said “WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING BEHIND YOU?”
In that moment I knew: I was doomed.
I felt my eyes open wide and grabbed my flashlight. I turned around…just to discover the guy looking at a huge horrible painting of a shadowy figure. It was the last painting I made and didn’t burn yet…he was talking about the damn painting
But my belief was broken. As I continued to turn my flashlight around, next the painting I saw it. A huge shadow. As if a person was standing just an arm’s length away from me. And it was inside the house.
Closer to me than ever
All of this was a few minutes ago
Or maybe a few hours ago
That thing is standing right behind me. I can feel it. I no longer need to look at it. I can feel it getting closer to me by the second.
I cant take it anymore. My spirit is broken. My soul is broken.
I cant take it anymore
There is only one more thing I have to do. Just endure this for a few more minutes. Im putting a link to my journal entries on the warning sign so that anyone who arrives here can find my story on the internet
If anyone finds this, please
I do not want you to endure what I have endured!!
DO NOT ENTER THIS HOUSE
DO NOT ENTER 9 TWIN LAKES ROAD
CREDIT : Reuven A.
Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged Ghost by cnkguy with no comments yet.
12 Apr, 2018
Reading Time: 8 minutes
When I was a boy I used to live in this little town outside Casa Grande, Arizona. Well, when I say small town, what I actually mean is five houses in the middle of nowhere in the desert with a water tower and and separate generator that ran the electricity for everyone. The houses on ether side of mine were owned by grandparents on my moms side and an uncle on my moms side. The two other houses across from us were owned by friends of our family who didn’t want to live in town and wanted to be off the grid.
As kids back then we didn’t have electronics or video games like the kids of today do. Hell, we didn’t even have a television. What we did have was an open empty desert, our imaginations, and of course each other, which would consist of me, a sister, four cousins, and three friends; four boys and five girls. Often we would play out from early in the morning to late in the evening. We would venture far out into the desert landscape playing whatever our imaginations could make up. Back then we didn’t have to worry about anyone trying to kidnap us or hurt us in any way. We got to be kids. Nothing out of the ordinary went on for many years we were out there. All that changed when I was fourteen years old.
One summer night me and three of my cousins were out in the desert not too far from the houses. We had started a small bon fire and were sitting around late into the evening talking and telling stories. As the night wore on, each one of my cousins tired and went back to their homes. Sometimes a friend would come sit a while but by eleven in the evening it was just I sitting there watching the embers die out. As I was about to get up and call it a night I noticed something strange glowing in the sky. It was a bright light that was just stationary in the sky. At first it appeared to be a little bright orb far away. There were no stars out that night as the clouds had settled in reminding us that the monsoon was near. So this light stood out.
I do not know why even to this day, but for some reason I started walking towards it. Maybe I was curious, maybe I felt like it was calling me. Either way I started to walk towards it. After walking a few yards I stopped and looked at the time on my light up wristwatch. It was 11:15pm. I looked at the orb to see that it had gotten bigger. Or, more precisely, gotten closer. I watched as it started to move around. At first it was small movements, like it was swaying. Then it started to move really fast as if it was being spun around on a string. Then it shot straight up, stopped, shot out away from me, stopped, shot back to wear it was before it started moving, stopped, then it made a flash, like a camera flash. Then it shot straight up and disappeared.
Now from my point of view this all happened in a matter of seconds. It was really quick. I looked back at my watch. It was 2:27am. I stood there confused. Why was it so late? That much time couldn’t have passed. I looked back at where the embers were. They were out. I went back to my house. As I entered the door, my mom was sitting on the couch. When she saw me walk in she jumped up and ran to me, giving me a big hug. When she pulled away from me I looked at her eyes. I could tell she’d been crying. She asked where I was the whole time. I told her what happened and what I saw. She looked at me for a bit before asking me again where I went off to for so long. I tried to tell her that was standing in near the fire and that I thought it was still 11pm.
My dad went out and looked around, then walked over to my uncles house. When he came back he said that my cousin had seen me by the fire around 11pm but when he looked a few minutes later I was gone. He assumed I went back to my house and went to bed.
The next few months went by without further incident. One night though in September of the same year I saw the lights, I was awoken by noise coming from the kitchen. I assumed it was one of my parents or my sister and proceeded to go back to bed. As I was on the verge of sleep I heard a creaking noise. I recognized this as my bedroom door opening so I lifted my head to look. At the time my brain did not register what I saw right away but with the power of hindsight I knew what I saw was what I thought it to be. There, peeking around the corner of the door, was this creature, small and humanoid in shape, with a large tear drop shaped head and large black almond shaped eyes. It looked at me. I looked at it. As quickly as it had peeked it disappeared. I went back to sleep.
Nose bleeds would come out of nowhere frequently at random times the following months and I would continue to see what I thought at first was a single creature. That all changed that winter. It was Christmas Eve and I hadn’t seen it in a few weeks so I wasn’t on alert. I had family and friends over and we all had the traditional dinner. That night we built a bon fire where we normally would and sat around drinking snuck out alcohol and what not. We started telling scary stories and it came my turn. I started telling what I have been seeing. First thing out of my cousins mouth was ‘aliens’. They all laughed. I didn’t. That was my thought as well and I told them that the night I had supposedly disappeared might be linked since I don’t remember ever leaving that spot. I suggested that I might have been abducted by aliens and that’s why I was gone. They all laughed again. I didn’t.
Seeing my serious demeanor, my female friend, Susan, asked if I had seen it recently. I had not. Not in a few weeks as previously mentioned. I told her I would see in looking in at me from my bedroom door or see it very briefly around the house at night. Caught it looking in from my parent bedroom window once. The sightings were always quick. As soon as I had noticed it would disappear. I chased it once when I had seen it outside on a moonlit night. It was peeking around the side of the house so I quickly ran to it. When I got there it was gone. The side of the house is bare of any sort of debris or anything it could hide behind. It simply vanished.
All my cousins and friends then came up with the idea of camping out by the house that night. Though it was cold, they wanted to see if it came back. Though our parents protested at first due to the cold, they ultimately let us. We got our tents and set up camp around the bon fire. We put our tents really close together. We stayed up late into the night until it was just me and Susan were left awake. She sat next to me and we covered up in a thick blanket and looked at the dying fire. I’m not sure what happened but somehow I turned to her to see if she wanted to call it a night and she kissed me. Being a teenager this sent my hormones into overdrive.
We kissed a few minutes when we heard a rustling nearby. I quickly turned in the direction of the noise. There, standing near the dead brush, was the creature. I thought she saw it to because she gasped. I looked to her, only to find her looking in a different direction. There, off the the side of where our tents were, was two more of them. As quickly as we had seen them, they disappeared. She was shaken, as expected. At first she was talking about just going back home but then looked out to her house. It was dark. The fire by now was almost out. She then turned to me and said she didn’t want to sleep by herself. We went to my tent. We fell asleep.
She had stated to me that she hadn’t seen anything since that night. She also stated that she must have been a little too drunk and was letting my stories get to her. I didn’t argue with her. I know we saw them. And I continued to for many years. Then I left home for college. We both attended the same university. During my four years I did not see them at all. Even after graduation I hadn’t seen them. Me and her would eventually get together and marry. We had a child. A girl. We named her Michelle, after her grandmother. Things were looking up for us.
Michelle was five years old when she first started telling us about the little monsters that would be in her room. She said they would look at her from the closet or they’d be hiding somewhere around the house peering out at us. I became a little worried as to what she meant. She couldn’t really describe them other than they were small and they were monsters. Susan would write it off as a child’s imagination at first. At least until Michelle saw me watching a movie called Paul. When she saw the alien on the screen she exclaimed very loud “that’s them! That’s the little monsters!”
Susan started to freak a little when she found out. We asked her if they ever tried to touch her or talk to her and she’d say no. She said all they do is look at us. Then one day out of the blue as we were sitting in her room playing tea party, as she she is serving Susan and I pretend tea, she looked at me with the most serious expression a five year old can make and said “they said they don’t want me or mommy. They just want you” and sat down to drink her pretend tea. Susan shot me a glance and and asked Michelle who told her that. She replied with “the little monsters.”
That was last year. She is now six and doesn’t see them anymore, or at least she says she doesn’t . Susan was afraid to be alone sometimes because every once in a while she would see something out the corner of her eye, and when she’d look it would be gone. We moved into a house in the desert, not too close to people but yet not too far away. Susan likes the privacy but has gotten two pit bulls for added safety measures. Plus she’s not as on edge when she’s alone now.
I know, moving in the middle of the desert given what we’ve been through may not seem like a good idea, but with the way people are these days she wanted some isolation. Plus, if what Michelle said was true, they have nothing to fear. I do. After reading up and chatting with others who have had missing time and been abducted, it has opened up in my mind that maybe I was taken during that missing time I experienced those years back. A fellow missing timer suggested I try hypnosis to see if I can recover any of that time. Though I’m afraid of what I might find, I also want to know what happened during that time.
Recently I have been witnessing strange lights in the sky’s above my property. Some I can explain after a while, like the drones that the border patrol uses, or at least that I’ve been told they use, and small planes. But others are not so easy to explain. There also have been strange noises coming out of the desert at night that isn’t the local wildlife I’ve grown accustomed to. Though I haven’t seen anything yet I get the feeling something will show itself. The nose bleeds have started up again as well. They come out of nowhere and they usually come around the time the lights appear in the sky. I’ve also been seeing strange flashes, light a camera flash, around places at random and even during the day. I might go get that hypnosis done soon before I end up disappearing for good this time. Only time will tell.
CREDIT : Seth Raziel
Posted in Creepy Pasta and tagged Ghost by cnkguy with no comments yet.
11 Apr, 2018
An Open Letter to My Best Friend
Reading Time: 6 minutes
You know who you are.
I wrote this because you’ve been complaining recently about how you want to be set free. I decided to post a letter to you here, on your favorite website, for you to find and read when you log on. I want to show you that I know you better than anyone else ever can. I understand your frustration, but you must believe me when I tell you that I know what is best for you. By the end of this letter, I hope that you’ll have a broader perspective on why I do the things that happen to you. Whether you believe it or not, I do truly hate to force things on you without your consent. That’s why I need you to begin trusting the decisions I make without any questions or protest. With that in mind, let me try to explain.
I had a classmate in college who always complained that his neck was hurting him. He’d wrench his head back and forth like he was trying to dislodge something painful from inside his body. Eventually I convinced him to see a doctor. My classmate learned that he had a degenerative condition for which there is no cure. His backbone would never get any better. Instead, it would cause more and more pain with each passing day. There was still hope, though. The doctors told him about a surgery that could delay the inevitable. It would give my friend an extra decade of pain-free life before the suffering returned once more to kill him.
My classmate opted to try the surgery, and it worked like a charm. He was happier than I’ve ever seen him before. The surgery gave him confidence and new vigor, and it inspired him to join an amateur baseball league. He wanted to get the most of his new life, and to enjoy his health while he still had it. My friend was diving into second base when he landed too hard by mistake. The impact jarred his new spine out of place, and the meticulous work of the surgeons was undone in an instant. The doctors told him that they could not repair his backbone a second time, because his body was not likely to tolerate the trauma of the procedure. He begged, but they refused to do it. He took his own life later that day.
Your body will fail you, and that’s why I put you in chains. I’m protecting you from the misery of getting injured, or sick, as so often happens in the outside world. I keep you restrained because I know that I’ve found the safest possible place to keep you. Away from all harm, you’ll undoubtedly live to a ripe old age. I can’t imagine life without you, and that’s why I will never let you out of the cellar.
Another friend of mine came back from the Gulf War to discover that his wife was sleeping with another man. Proud by nature, and deeply in love with his wife, my old friend flew into an immediate rage. He threatened to kill the stranger who had made himself so comfortable in another man’s marital bed. The stranger, though, was a soldier too. My friend had not noticed that, on the nightstand nearby, there was a handgun belonging to the stranger. In a single motion, this stranger whom my friend had never met before retrieved the gun and shot him fatally. The bullet pierced his right lung, and my dear friend died drowning in his own blood. He was murdered by the man who stole his wife.
Your heart will deceive you, and that’s why I keep you in isolation. If you fall in love, you will surely regret it. I want to spare you from suffering that pain. Even friendships can mostly only cause grief in the end. I am the only person who is sure to love you forever. For the rest of your life, then, you will know no one except for me.
Did you know that one of Jeffrey Dahmer’s victims almost escaped? The unfortunate boy fled naked and mutilated out into the street, but found strangely that he could not explain himself to the police who came to investigate. You see, Dahmer had poured a strong acid into an opening that he carved in the boy’s skull. The corrosive chemical ate into the boy’s brain, leaving him stupefied yet still aware of the danger he was in. Dahmer spoke with the police because his victim could not, and told them lies while the boy sat naked on the sidewalk in a daze. Dahmer made the police believe things that weren’t true. He told them that the boy was actually an adult, and not delirious from torture but rather from drinking too much alcohol. He claimed that it would be best for everyone involved if Dahmer were allowed simply to take the boy home to get some rest. The police ultimately agreed, and so that night Dahmer brought his victim back to the same torture chamber that he had already rightfully escaped. When they were alone together once more, Dahmer finished the job he had started by ending the boy’s life.
Society will fail to protect you, and that’s why I was forced to cut off your hands. You tried to type out a message to the world asking for help. It was then that I realized that you will try to spoil what we have together, and what I’m trying to do for you. You will ruin everything unless I firmly prevent you from doing so. I know that you will quickly go mad without some form of stimulation, and so I built you a device that lets you navigate the internet even while shackled to the wall. Still, you must never try to communicate with the outside world ever again. It is my intention that the rounded stump at the end of each of your forearms may serve as a reminder never to disobey me again. Seeking help from others will gain you nothing, dearest friend. It can only cause useless pain. I assure you that in some cases the pain of disobedience can be far worse than something as simple as losing your hands.
My high school sweetheart had the worst luck of all. We were poor, she and I, but we were happy together. One day a man came into our town making promises to my sweetheart. He coveted her beauty, and I was powerless to prevent him from taking her. She wanted to escape from our small town, and so she went with him seeking the fame and fortune that he assured her would come. We did not hear from her ever again. Two years later my sweetheart became famous indeed, but not in a way that she would have wanted. Her story grew to be known by many only because of the brutality she had suffered. She lived in the ICU for a few days after we found her, but she was far too traumatized to speak. We never learned the details of what he did to her, but her injuries alone spoke volumes. They told the story of a man who was depraved beyond all imagination – one who truly delighted in transgressions against human decency. This type of man is not uncommon.
I hope this letter has helped you to understand why I sometimes do things that seem painful or cruel. I could tell many more stories like the ones written above, but I see no reason to bore you further. When you see me tonight, you may ask me to tell you more about what I know, and I will be happy to do so. For now, please simply begin to learn to trust me. In addition to what I’ve already said, let me also add this: Your mind will eventually fail you, too. Your spirituality, like a fire, will either fade to nothing or else consume you whole. The values you hold dearest will be strained until they creak loudly, and the sound of them breaking won’t allow you sleep at night. After that, those values will collapse entirely and be forgotten.
I can protect you from all these things, and I swear that I will try to do just that. I will trim away all the parts of you that would eventually cause you harm. I believe that someday you will thank me for my efforts. I cherish you more than words can say.
Story by David Feuling*
*(This letter is a work of fiction. No part of this story is based in reality except for my description of the night that Jeffrey Dahmer murdered Konerak Sinthasomphone. This alone is a portrayal of true events within the letter, and based on my research the night in question was even more horrifying than I’ve been able to describe here. Thank you for reading, and I hope you’ve enjoyed my story.)
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