This is not a nice place...

True Fear

2011-10-20T23:47:00.001+02:00

We all fear things, but can we say we have experienced true fear?
For example, you are downstairs, on your computer when the news comes on the TV, you sit and watch intently as the news caster tells you the scores of your favourite sporting events and the average cutesy story followed by news on how the politicians have messed up.
You are about to go to bed when the news comes back on, they're talking about riots, cause by a mass break out at the local prison, murderers, rapists and madmen are free and are roaming the town. You hear noise outside and duck down, you turn off the Tv and computer followed by all the lights (so not to attract the attention of the people outside).
you slowly make it up stairs, moving quickley past your glass front door, you see the outlines of people slowly walking up your drive, you hold your breath and sprint up the stairs, you run into your room and pull the curtains shut, you leap into bed and hide under the covers, you bury your head into the pillow and cry softly, you know it will be over soon, you reasure yourself over and over but there is still something nagging at you.
You suddenly sit, bolt upright as you hear something, then at that exact moment, it dawns on you, the most horrific realisation you could imagine, you finally understand, you finally experience true fear when you realise... You didn't lock the door.

The Seven Deadly Sins

2011-10-20T23:45:00.005+02:00

I'm writing this so that I can keep a bit of sanity...this is my suicide note...it's the end for me...I just want this down so that others may see why death brings suffering...why you can't let one person die in your life...
My daughter got home from school at about 2 PM. Her being in a kindergarden class, they sent the little tykes home before the others. I thought that I could get in an hour or two into some TV movies. I finished at around 1:40, and exactly after I turned the television off, a ring came at the door. I walked to the door and saw a little girl with her mother, selling girl scout cookies. I happily bought them and started to eat the Tagalongs (I gave the little girl a tip, when delivering cookies in the heat of Florida, you have to have a bit of decency). About 25 minutes later, my daughter got home. "Hello daddy!" she said, throwing herself on me. I chuckled and got her some lunch. It was definitely a normal day. Until that night..

At around 1:40 A.M. my daughter screamed bloody murder. I quickly jumped out of bed and ran to her room. I threw the door open, and saw my daughter huddled up in a little ball on the corner of her bed. I grabbed her quickly and turned the light on in her room. What I saw was completely chilling...I saw, written in red paint on the wall: LUST, GLUTTONY, GREED, SLOTH, WRATH, ENVY AND PRIDE; SINS OF YOUR FOREFATHERS SINS YOU CAN'T HIDE. What the hell was that supposed to mean?! The seven sins?
My daughter started to hyperventilate, and she started saying "daddydaddydaddydaddy" over and over again...I grabbed her athsma inhaler and tried to give it to her, but she was so far into an asthma attack that she really couldn't do much. I ran to my car with her and placed her in the back seat, and drove as fast as I could to a nearby hospital. We were instantly admitted, and she was saved from going into cardiac arrest...it turned out that my daughter at five had heart disease.
It was about seven years later (and during those seven years) that things started to really get bad. It was Christmas time, I had a wife named Samantha, and a son named Gregory. My daughter, Haley, was 12 years old, Greg was about 4. I was loving my life. The kids were happy, Samantha and I were happy. It was great...except for the years previous...
The first year, all of the woman around me became aroused and flirted with me constantly. You wanna know why that was bad? Because every one that I rejected killed themself in some horrid way...one gutted herself with a kitchen knife, and another hung herself from the gutter on her house. The second year, my daughter became infatuated with food, so much that her heart condition worsened. She was rushed to the hospital over 10 times during the course of the year...but when the year was up, she became anorexic, and stopped eating much altogether.
The third year, my house went into forclosure, and I became very stingy with money and food. We later found out that the landowner of our house still had rights to our land, and was stealing money out of my credit card for two years. I'm lucky that I met Samantha, and she let my daughter and I move into her home. We married in December, and had my son in October.
The fourth year, I was called by many talent agencies, asking about my amazing singing skills, which I had shown off when I sat in with a band a month before the year started. The thing is, when I said no, they would keep calling me and calling, until they became violent, calling me foul names. One of them even tried to kill me right outside my house. He shot at me with a handgun and clipped my ear.
The fifth year, I became inexplicably angry at my daughter and wife for everything. I became abusive in the month of December, but in that same month, I fell down the stairs and suffered brain damage, but so little damage that it gave me little memory of the year past. I can only recall this because my daughter told me about it.
The sixth year, my daughter became jealous of my son, getting all the attention. But I tried to tell her that babies need more attention than ten-year-olds. She became angry and violent. She eventually ran away. I called the Center For Missing And Exploited Children. They found her in the abandoned house next to us, hiding in one of the closets. She was starving, and eventually kicked her anorexia.
It was the seventh year now, and nothing had really happened at all. That is until that night...at exacly 1:40 AM that the shit hit the fan. I heard my daughter scream, a bloodcurdling scream. I quickly ran to her room, and saw something that broke my heart and terrified me...a man stood looking at her bed, holding a sleek knife...he grabbed her and...ripped her open with the blade...oh god...it's hard to even think about it...but he took all that remained of her...Jesus Christ...I was so proud of her...my baby...
It's the eighth year now...my wife left me, my son barely knows me...and I curse myself every day. My late wife, who beared my daughter...I now know that it was you who gave me this curse. You always hated me...I couldn't save you...I never could...and you hate me for it. So now...I end it all...

Hello, this is Gregory, the boy in the story. I'm 36 now, and I was given this note from the police about a year ago. This suicide note was written by my father back in 1980. I was only five years old. When my mother got the news about my father, she cried for about an hour. I was alone too...and it wasn't until ten years later that my mother gave me the real story.
She cried crocodile tears when she heard the news. The only emotion she harbored for my dad was hate. See, my father did all of those horrible things you see in the story. My father went insane at 1:40 AM in 1973, the date of his first wife and his anniversarry. The psychologist he saw when his wife died suspected that his wife's death was all his fault. He created an excuse, and based his so-called 'revenge' on the seven deadly sins.
The night of his wife's anniversary, he gave his daughter a shot of steroids, which gave her the heart condition. He killed every woman who flirted with him for one year, making their deaths look like suicides.
The second year, he stuffed his daughter full of food, making her eat the largest portions. He became upset that it did not kill her, so he made her throw up her food after every meal when the year was up.
The third year, he sold his house, and let my mom use money from his credit card. He also became abusive for many years after.
The fourth year, he claimed that he was the most talented singer ever, calling talent agencies and such. When they turned him down, he would call them foul names, and one man he even tried to kill. He shot at the man right outside of his studio, clipping him in the ear.
The fifth year, he tried to kill my mom and late sister many times, but my mother retaliated, pushing him down the stairs. He had aqquired short term memory loss and couldn't remember much about that month.
The sixth year, he drove my sister out of the house, calling her 'stupid bitch' or 'fucking whore'. She hid in the house next door when my father called a lost child agency. The forensics team quickly turned her back into our house, which my mother frequently called 'Hell'.
The seventh year, my dad was very tame. He became a very nice man, happy, and was proud of his behavior, until 1:40 A.M. On the night of his wife's anniversary, he killed my sister with a kitchen knife and fled with her remains to the Bahamas. I still cannot belive it to this very day, and at the beginning of the eighth year, he killed himself. The police force says that it was suicide, he created a makeshift noose out of organic material.
They all lie, because I know the rope was my sister.

Lil Wayne's Secret

2011-10-17T14:08:00.000+02:00

Regardless of whether you listen to hip hop or not, I'm sure the vast majority of you has heard of Lil Wayne. His music is undoubtfully a part of pop culture, however in the past before his popularity was as high as it is today, he made a song called I Feel Like Dying. Now the actual subject matter is about what sounds like Lil Wayne's drug addiction however there have been rumors starting around 2007-2008 that the song contained a hidden message if played reveresed. As one of the many people that listened to it, I have to say I was pretty creeped out after hearing it. Some people have taken the liberty of making lyrics to the reveresed song and as expected the lyrics vary from video to video. However the content is always the same: violence, murder, and something demonic.

As a curious person I decided to do some research on the subject and I haven't found much. When Wikipedia had an article on the song briefly it said that Lil Wayne never commented on whether the rumors were true. Upon going for underground sources(I have some connections with people in the music industry) I uncovered that once during an interview Lil Wayne was asked about the rumors regarding the song and he reportedly ignored the question. When the interviewer persisted Lil Wayne just got up and left, ending the interview prematurely. Another account said that when a fan ran into him on the street and asked about the rumor, he starting yelling at him and cursing at him. When the fan kept asking, Lil Wayne assaulted him and told him to never mention the song again. There were several more accounts of things like this happening, however one of the stories involved a woman actually being murdered by fellow rappers and label mates Drake and Gudda Gudda for asking about it. Using the same music industry connections I have, I managed to get ahold of some back stage tickets at a concert he was having, however the concert wasn't for another five months so I had to put my quest for answers on pause until then.

When the day of the concert arrived I sat next to some die hard fans who kept screaming. Like most people, I'm always wondering how he became so popular despite his rap skills not being the best. But I wasn't one to question how a man makes his living so I just kicked back and enjoyed the concert. The concert itself was unbelievably hyped up. There was so much energy it was like a musician's idea of heaven. After the concert ended some hours later I went backstage and met Lil Wayne. Despite his lyrics he is actually a very sweet and homely guy. When I was introduced to him by the bodyguards, he was sitting down reading his Bible. He got up and greeted me and he introduced me to the rest of the Young Money group. Drake shook my hand then walked out of sight. Nicki Minaj gave me a hug and I wont lie, I wish that hug lasted forever. After shaking the rest of the group's hands and chatting briefly with Tyga, I sat down to talk with Lil Wayne. We discussed religion and our faith(for those who don't know Lil Wayne is a practicing Christain), the backround stories behind his songs(the song Lollipop was actually a dare by one of the song's producers, Jim Jonsin, to make a song about blow jobs to jokingly release as a single), and our lives. I was impressed by how intelligent this man really is, hes had a rough life growing up in the Hollygrove area of New Orleans and he says hes blessed to have a career as sucessful as his. I decided after about 30 minutes of chatting to bring up I Feel Like Dying. As I brought it up, his face went from happy and cheerful to just drained of its color, like if something terrified him. As we talked about the song, he had told me he was in a hard time in his life when he wrote the song, that without drugs he felt like he would die, and then he tried to change the subject. When I asked about the rumors of a hidden message in the song, he became visibly furious and denied that there was a hidden message. When I told him I had sources saying otherwise, he was now in the point of tears and told me to get the fuck out. As security was escorting me out, I managed to catch a glimpse of him clutching his Bible and chanting Bible verses over and over again. The man was now obviously afraid and now it got me more curious: why would this man just freak out and have me kicked out? I knew there was a reason and I set out to find it.

After some time has passed, I managed to get ahold of Cool and Dre. If you dont know who they are, they are

The song reversed with supposed lyrics

The original song

hip hop producers who have produced many of Lil Wayne's songs. I chatted with them and as I mentioned the supposed hidden message in I Feel Like Dying, Dre just stomped out of the room and Cool just stood there with a frozen expression on his face. When I asked once again, he whispered to me "I can't explain here, they'll hear us, follow me." When I asked who was "they", he told me to follow him to his car. When we got to it, told me to NEVER mention what he was gonna tell me to anybody then he started the car and started driving. After fifteen minutes of driving and Cool being silent, we arrived at a large church. The church was already having sessions as I could see a swarm of people gathering inside. I followed Cool into the church and said "Alright, they can't hear us here." When I asked who, he replied with "The real producers of that song." Apparently shortly before Lil Wayne's popularity exploded, he made a pact with a demon named Murmur, that in exchange for his soul, finding a few more people to make the same pact, and allowing him to possess Lil Wayne for a short period of time, he would make him one of the the most popular rappers alive and make sure his career prospers. Lil Wayne agreed and he started looking for new talent to recruit. He said that Murmur was the true writer of the song and several of his minions were actually the producers. When Lil Wayne recorded the song, it wasn't really him, it was Murmur possessing him for the sole purpose of making the song reality. Lil Wayne has no memory of recording the song and after a few years found new recruits. Those new recruits? We know them as Young Money. All of the rappers in the Young Money group have made the same pact and Lil Wayne's deal was complete. Murmur kept his part of the deal and helped Lil Wayne's and the Young Money group's careers become sucessful. However Lil Wayne now regrets the deal because he now fears for his soul and now regularly attends church, prays fanatically, and reads his Bible every chance he gets, hoping it will be enough for God to forgive him and take back the deal. Cool then said he remembers one time going to a studio session when the song was being recorded. He said Murmur looked like a soldier with a uniform that resembled the French Foreign Legion. The color of the uniform however was a mixture of red, black, and orange, like fire and brimstone colors. His face looked strangely human, not anything you'd expect a demon to look like but his pupils were pure black. Right next to him was a strange animal next to him that resembeled a giant vulture, he said that it kept staring at him and he got extremely uncomfortable. He said Murmur spoke to Lil Wayne briefly before turning into a floating pile of dust and violently flying inside Lil Wayne's mouth. The force knocked him down and he started violently choking and vomiting some foul smelling yellow substance. When it ended, Lil Wayne/Murmur went to the recording booth and started recording the normal song. He looked behind him and saw 2 very large demonic creatures mixing the songs and playing around with the instrumentals. The larger demon looked at him with glaring bloodshot eyes and said in a low booming voice to leave the room. Then Cool told me "Now you know everything, never tell anybody you heard this from me, everybody involved in the making of that song is not supposed to reveal its true origins. Thats why Lil Wayne gets aggressive when asked about it, they will drag us straight to hell if we ever told. Do you listen to Lil Wayne or the other Young Money artists? Their lyrics aren't good, in fact, they flat out suck. It's beacuse of the pact is why they are so successful, the forces of hell make sure the weak minded people who listen to their music gets sucked in and asks for more. Now tell me your address, I'll drive you home." After driving me home, I watched him get drive off extremely quick and recklessly.

I kept replaying everything over and over in my mind, I couldn't believe it was true. But I guess this is pretty common, there are successful music artists who don't really have much talent today who are actually really popular. While it would be retarded to assume they made the same pact as Lil Wayne, it doesn't hurt to keep an open mind. Next time you hear conspiracy theories about popular artists selling their souls to the devil, keep an open mind. Because with some research, you might just find it true.

The Russian Sleep Experiment

2011-08-11T19:34:00.000+02:00

Russian researchers in the late 1940s kept five people awake for fifteen days using an experimental gas based stimulant. They were kept in a sealed environment to carefully monitor their oxygen intake so the gas didn't kill them, since it was toxic in high concentrations. This was before closed circuit cameras so they had only microphones and 5 inch thick glass porthole sized windows into the chamber to monitor them. The chamber was stocked with books, cots to sleep on but no bedding, running water and toilet, and enough dried food to last all five for over a month.

The test subjects were political prisoners deemed enemies of the state during World War II.

Everything was fine for the first five days; the subjects hardly complained having been promised (falsely) that

they would be freed if they submitted to the test and did not sleep for 30 days. Their conversations and activities were monitored and it was noted that they continued to talk about increasingly traumatic incidents in their past, and the general tone of their conversations took on a darker aspect after the 4 day mark.

After five days they started to complain about the circumstances and events that lead them to where they were and started to demonstrate severe paranoia. They stopped talking to each other and began alternately whispering to the microphones and one way mirrored portholes. Oddly they all seemed to think they could win the trust of the experimenters by turning over their comrades, the other subjects in captivity with them. At first the researchers suspected this was an effect of the gas itself...

After nine days the first of them started screaming. He ran the length of the chamber repeatedly yelling at the top of his lungs for 3 hours straight, he continued attempting to scream but was only able to produce occasional squeaks. The researchers postulated that he had physically torn his vocal cords. The most surprising thing about this behavior is how the other captives reacted to it... or rather didn't react to it. They continued whispering to the microphones until the second of the captives started to scream. The 2 non-screaming captives took the books apart, smeared page after page with their own feces and pasted them calmly over the glass portholes. The screaming promptly stopped.

So did the whispering to the microphones.

After 3 more days passed. The researchers checked the microphones hourly to make sure they were working, since they thought it impossible that no sound could be coming with 5 people inside. The oxygen consumption in the chamber indicated that all 5 must still be alive. In fact it was the amount of oxygen 5 people would consume at a very heavy level of strenuous exercise. On the morning of the 14th day the researchers did something they said they would not do to get a reaction from the captives, they used the intercom inside the chamber, hoping to provoke any response from the captives they were afraid were either dead or vegetables.

They announced: "We are opening the chamber to test the microphones step away from the door and lie flat on the floor or you will be shot. Compliance will earn one of you your immediate freedom."

To their surprise they heard a single phrase in a calm voice response: "We no longer want to be freed."

Debate broke out among the researchers and the military forces funding the research. Unable to provoke any more response using the intercom it was finally decided to open the chamber at midnight on the fifteenth day.

The chamber was flushed of the stimulant gas and filled with fresh air and immediately voices from the microphones began to object. 3 different voices began begging, as if pleading for the life of loved ones to turn the gas back on. The chamber was opened and soldiers sent in to retrieve the test subjects. They began to scream louder than ever, and so did the soldiers when they saw what was inside. Four of the five subjects were still alive, although no one could rightly call the state that any of them in 'life.'

The food rations past day 5 had not been so much as touched. There were chunks of meat from the dead test subject's thighs and chest stuffed into the drain in the center of the chamber, blocking the drain and allowing 4 inches of water to accumulate on the floor. Precisely how much of the water on the floor was actually blood was never determined. All four 'surviving' test subjects also had large portions of muscle and skin torn away from their bodies. The destruction of flesh and exposed bone on their finger tips indicated that the wounds were inflicted by hand, not with teeth as the researchers initially thought. Closer examination of the position and angles of the wounds indicated that most if not all of them were self-inflicted.

The abdominal organs below the ribcage of all four test subjects had been removed. While the heart, lungs and diaphragm remained in place, the skin and most of the muscles attached to the ribs had been ripped off, exposing the lungs through the ribcage. All the blood vessels and organs remained intact, they had just been taken out and laid on the floor, fanning out around the eviscerated but still living bodies of the subjects. The digestive tract of all four could be seen to be working, digesting food. It quickly became apparent that what they were digesting was their own flesh that they had ripped off and eaten over the course of days.

Most of the soldiers were Russian special operatives at the facility, but still many refused to return to the chamber to remove the test subjects. They continued to scream to be left in the chamber and alternately begged and demanded that the gas be turned back on, lest they fall asleep...

To everyone's surprise the test subjects put up a fierce fight in the process of being removed from the chamber. One of the Russian soldiers died from having his throat ripped out, another was gravely injured by having his testicles ripped off and an artery in his leg severed by one of the subject's teeth. Another 5 of the soldiers lost their lives if you count ones that committed suicide in the weeks following the incident.

In the struggle one of the four living subjects had his spleen ruptured and he bled out almost immediately. The medical researchers attempted to sedate him but this proved impossible. He was injected with more than ten times the human dose of a morphine derivative and still fought like a cornered animal, breaking the ribs and arm of one doctor. When heart was seen to beat for a full two minutes after he had bled out to the point there was more air in his vascular system than blood. Even after it stopped he continued to scream and flail for another 3 minutes, struggling to attack anyone in reach and just repeating the word "MORE" over and over, weaker and weaker, until he finally fell silent.

The surviving three test subjects were heavily restrained and moved to a medical facility, the two with intact vocal cords continuously begging for the gas demanding to be kept awake...

The most injured of the three was taken to the only surgical operating room that the facility had. In the process of preparing the subject to have his organs placed back within his body it was found that he was effectively immune to the sedative they had given him to prepare him for the surgery. He fought furiously against his restraints when the anesthetic gas was brought out to put him under. He managed to tear most of the way through a 4 inch wide leather strap on one wrist, even through the weight of a 200 pound soldier holding that wrist as well. It took only a little more anesthetic than normal to put him under, and the instant his eyelids fluttered and closed, his heart stopped. In the autopsy of the test subject that died on the operating table it was found that his blood had triple the normal level of oxygen. His muscles that were still attached to his skeleton were badly torn and he had broken 9 bones in his struggle to not be subdued. Most of them were from the force his own muscles had exerted on them.

The second survivor had been the first of the group of five to start screaming. His vocal cords destroyed he was unable to beg or object to surgery, and he only reacted by shaking his head violently in disapproval when the anesthetic gas was brought near him. He shook his head yes when someone suggested, reluctantly, they try the surgery without anesthetic, and did not react for the entire 6 hour procedure of replacing his abdominal organs and attempting to cover them with what remained of his skin. The surgeon presiding stated repeatedly that it should be medically possible for the patient to still be alive. One terrified nurse assisting the surgery stated that she had seen the patients mouth curl into a smile several times, whenever his eyes met hers.

When the surgery ended the subject looked at the surgeon and began to wheeze loudly, attempting to talk while struggling. Assuming this must be something of drastic importance the surgeon had a pen and pad fetched so the patient could write his message. It was simple. "Keep cutting."

The other two test subjects were given the same surgery, both without anesthetic as well. Although they had to be injected with a paralytic for the duration of the operation. The surgeon found it impossible to perform the operation while the patients laughed continuously. Once paralyzed the subjects could only follow the attending researchers with their eyes. The paralytic cleared their system in an abnormally short period of time and they were soon trying to escape their bonds. The moment they could speak they were again asking for the stimulant gas. The researchers tried asking why they had injured themselves, why they had ripped out their own guts and why they wanted to be given the gas again.

Only one response was given: "I must remain awake."

All three subject's restraints were reinforced and they were placed back into the chamber awaiting determination as to what should be done with them. The researchers, facing the wrath of their military 'benefactors' for having failed the stated goals of their project considered euthanizing the surviving subjects. The commanding officer, an ex-KGB instead saw potential, and wanted to see what would happen if they were put back on the gas. The researchers strongly objected, but were overruled.

In preparation for being sealed in the chamber again the subjects were connected to an EEG monitor and had their restraints padded for long term confinement. To everyone's surprise all three stopped struggling the moment it was let slip that they were going back on the gas. It was obvious that at this point all three were putting up a great struggle to stay awake. One of subjects that could speak was humming loudly and continuously; the mute subject was straining his legs against the leather bonds with all his might, first left, then right, then left again for something to focus on. The remaining subject was holding his head off his pillow and blinking rapidly. Having been the first to be wired for EEG most of the researchers were monitoring his brain waves in surprise. They were normal most of the time but sometimes flat lined inexplicably. It looked as if he were repeatedly suffering brain death, before returning to normal. As they focused on paper scrolling out of the brainwave monitor only one nurse saw his eyes slip shut at the same moment his head hit the pillow. His brainwaves immediately changed to that of deep sleep, then flatlined for the last time as his heart simultaneously stopped.

The only remaining subject that could speak started screaming to be sealed in now. His brainwaves showed the same flatlines as one who had just died from falling asleep. The commander gave the order to seal the chamber with both subjects inside, as well as 3 researchers. One of the named three immediately drew his gun and shot the commander point blank between the eyes, then turned the gun on the mute subject and blew his brains out as well.

He pointed his gun at the remaining subject, still restrained to a bed as the remaining members of the medical and research team fled the room. "I won't be locked in here with these things! Not with you!" he screamed at the man strapped to the table. "WHAT ARE YOU?" he demanded. "I must know!"

The subject smiled.

"Have you forgotten so easily?" The subject asked. "We are you. We are the madness that lurks within you all, begging to be free at every moment in your deepest animal mind. We are what you hide from in your beds every night. We are what you sedate into silence and paralysis when you go to the nocturnal haven where we cannot tread."

The researcher paused. Then aimed at the subject's heart and fired. The EEG flatlined as the subject weakly choked out, "So... nearly... free..."

String Theory

2011-07-08T12:50:00.002+02:00

Have you ever had an experience that suggested someone else was in your house, and just thought “I don’t wanna know” and left it? Sometimes, fear of the unknown just seems like the preferable option than facing a real, concrete danger. Normally it’s nothing, though. One time, the beeper function of my wireless housephone went off, when I was the only one home. It could only be called from the living room. Another time, I swear someone took some change from my desk. They’re all probably just slightly disconcerting tricks of the memory.

But what would you do when something truly suggestive happens? Would you run, or just ignore it, like I did?

Last Monday was a normal day. I got up, brushed my teeth, changed into school clothes… All little parts of my morning ritual. It seemed like it would be another totally un-noteworthy day, until I saw the strings.

There were three or four thick twine strings in my room. They criss-crossed between the walls around my bed, one attached to the door. No way would I have missed them before; I should have tripped over them. They were tied to pins in the walls, which had also not existed before ten seconds ago.

Nobody could have been in my room while I was in it, let alone set this up. It was early, and my brain wasn’t processing correctly. I simply discredited the sight, untied the strings and left for school, leaving them balled up on my desk.

It didn’t get any better later. Outside my house there were hundreds of them, tied between houses, around cars, across streets… This had to be some super elaborate prank. One of those hidden camera shows, or a comedy improv blog. They had gotten everyone else to play along too; passer-bys were tangled in them, tying them to objects they were walking towards and away from, as if they had been and were continuing to follow the course laid out for them.

I nervously continued my journey to school. On the bus, every except me was tied to the door. At school, groups of friends were tied to each other; teachers were tied to their desks and boards. Oddly enough, at this point all I could wonder was why I had been left out.

When my friend Lucy sat beside me in first period, she simply plonked her bag down on my lap and rested her chin in her hand, looking right past me to the window outside.

“Hey Lucy.”

No response.

“Come on, I didn’t expect you to be in on this too. “

She sighed and started taking books from her bag. All the books were tied to her hands. I grinned, and yanked one of the strings off a book. She didn’t seem to notice, instead simply disregarding the book completely, letting it drop to the floor without a moment’s hesitation.

“Um.” I leaned down, picking up her book and placing it back on her desk. She took no notice.

“Well, if that’s how we’re gonna play it.” I smiled, trying to look playful, but really just trying to hide my nervousness. I bundled all the strings attached to her together with one hand, then pulled them all free. She blinked, turning to stare at me.

“Holy crap, Martin. You’re like a ninja or something.”

“I’ve been sitting here for maybe ten minutes.” I smiled again, relieved my friend had finally “noticed” me.

“Where did all these strings come from??” She gasped, seemingly noticing for the first time. “I assumed you were all fucking with me…”

She stood up, backing into a corner. No one else in the class noticed.

“They weren’t here just a minute ago! Do you see them too??” Her tone made it clear she was genuinely scared.

“No. Didn’t you-. “ I was interrupted by my teacher slamming the door behind her. Everyone except me and Lucy murmured a good morning, and still, no one seemed to pay either of us any notice. “People have been ignoring me all day.” I said to Lucy, before turning to our teacher. “Hey! Dumb bitch! You can’t teach for shit!”

No reaction.

“I’m getting away from all this shit.” Lucy pulled a few strings aside and left the class. I followed, and surprise-surprise, no one else noticed.

We wandered the corridors, leaving and entering classes as we saw fit. Whenever we untied a chair or book from someone else, it was like it suddenly didn’t matter to them. It didn’t exist.

I showed her the street outside; there were more strings than when I came in this morning. Twice as many. We carefully picked our way through the tangle, making our way to a nearby coffee shop. Not particularly grand, I know. But what would you do in our situation? As I said, fear of the unknown sometimes seems like the safer option. On a few occasions, I suggested we untie a few more people. Lucy was opposed to it, remembering how terrified she’d been.

In the coffee shop, we grabbed a couple of sandwiches and drinks from the fridge. We found a table, untied all strings attached to the chairs, and sat down. We both ate in silence, both of us too scared, both of us distracting ourselves by watching the strangers in the shop, oblivious to the strings. After twenty minutes, Lucy spoke up. “Now she’s gonna take that sandwich.” She said, pointing at a woman across the shop. Sure enough, she walked to the fridge and took the plastic wrapped sandwich she was tied to. “She pays for it and leaves.” She did so, according to the prophecies of the strings. “That guy doesn’t intend to pay.” I watched as a man took his coffee and ran out of the store, the two servers just looking too exasperated to go after him.

“This is horrible.” She whimpered. “Let’s go. Please.”

Outside wasn’t much better. Everyone just followed the strings’ instructions, going about their daily lives. Lucy announced she was going home to sleep this off, and I agreed to walk her home. She only lived ten minutes away.

Away from the busier part of town there were fewer strings. It was nicer; we could pretend it wasn’t happening.

When we turned onto Lucy’s street, she stopped, her mouth falling open.

“What now?” I broke the silence, my voice sounding surprisingly small.

”Look.” She pointed outside one of her neighbours houses.

I saw it clearly, and I’ll take my memory of that moment ‘til the day I die. A little dark imp, maybe three feet tall, walking along with its knuckles on the ground, almost like a monkey. It had two bulbous yellow eyes taking up about half its face, and no mouth or any other facial features. It was holding a hammer and a ball of twine, which it was letting out behind it.

It walked quickly and quietly from the front door of the house to the mailbox. It stopped, hammered a nail into the side of the box, and tied it’s string around it. It turned to face us, and stopped when it spotted us.

My bottom fell out even further than it had already been, but it just stared with a look of surprise and curiosity. You could almost say it was the more frightened one. Suddenly, it beckoned to us with its tiny hand.

I looked at Lucy, she hadn’t moved. I looked back at the imp, which stared at me. I halved the distance between us, and then halved it again. This wasn’t fear of the unknown anymore; it was fear of this little guy. Didn’t seem like anything to be scared of. When I was a meter away from it, it extended its hand.

“Uh. Hi.” I shook it. It nodded in approval, blinking its massive yellow eyes up at me.

“So you’re the ones in charge of the strings?” It nodded eagerly. I called Lucy over, but she stayed where she was.

“There are more of you?” Another nod. I wanted to ask it so many questions, about what it was and where it came from, but it seemed for now I was stuck with only yes or no questions.

“Do we even have free will?”

It just looked at me, almost sadly. I immediately felt sick to my stomach, and couldn’t bear looking at the little monster anymore. I grabbed Lucy, who had been listening to our exchange, and now sat on the curb with her head in her hands.

“Come on.”

We entered her house, and I made her a cup of tea. When I found her in the living room, she had untied her dog and was curled up with it, crying. I set the tea down and sat beside her.

“I’m so scared.” She whispered after a good ten minutes of sobbing. I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

“I’m going to sleep” She mumbled suddenly, and was under within the minute. Sleep was starting to sound pretty good all of a sudden, my eyelids suddenly felt like they were being weighed down.

I collapsed to the rug, and the last thing I heard before I fell asleep was the scurrying of several sets of little feet nearby.

I felt much better the next day, as if the whole affair had been a dream. I’d probably have believed that if I hadn’t been awoken by Lucy’s mother that morning, wondering what I was doing sleeping over without permission or something.

Over breakfast, Lucy asked me why I looked so pale and nervous. I turned to her and smiled, mumbling something to her about feeling sick.

But the truth was, I was scared because I couldn’t see any strings, and was wondering whether my actions were truly my own.

Heart Break-In

2011-06-01T20:43:00.000+02:00

Sarah was wary about letting her husband Tom go on his business trip alone. She had a sneaking suspicion he was having an affair with his secretary, Rachel. Unfortunately, for her sake, she was unable to stop him from going. It was a mandatory meeting, according to the email she was shown.

One night, after Tom had been away for two days, she heard noises coming from the ground floor of her house. Scared, she hid under the covers, afraid for her life.

After what was the longest five minutes of her life, she heard someone come up the stairs, and shortly thereafter heard the bedroom door open. Almost instantly, the intruder flicked the lights in the room on. Knowing that hiding was now pointless, she threw off the covers to face the person.

It was Tom. He was home early.

“Oh God, Tom,” she said as she ran to the door and hugged him. “I wish you had called. I didn’t know you would be home so early. I thought we were being robbed!” she said, letting go of him as he reached into his pocket.

“We are,” he said calmly as he swiftly put the gun he pulled from his pocket to his wife’s head and pulled the trigger.

Curiosity

2011-05-26T20:40:00.000+02:00

In Korea, a lot of students are forced by their parents to do a lot of studying and do well academically. It's not uncommon for students to go back to school at night to do extra studying.

One night this girl was back at school studying with a group of students. The room they were in was the only light in the whole building, which dimly flowed down the hallway outside.

In the middle of her studies, she decided to take a break and went to the toilets down the hall. She proceeded back to her fellow students, when she suddenly heard a bunch of chilling, horrific screams eminating from the clasoom. And just as abruptly as they had started, the building fell deathly quiet once again.

Fearing the worst, she crept back towards the clasoom making sure not to make a sound. She peered inside the clasoom and lo and behold, all her peers lay strewn across the floor. Limp, lifeless and their faces dashed with blood. Their in the midst of the room was a pale white figure, a ghost of a young girl in a white gown with long black hair that veiled her face.

The girl had heard of this ghost before. It attacked people in the late hours of the night, harvesting its victims for their eyeballs. The girl could not run without making a sound and attracting the attention of the ghost. Instead, she slipped in the the bathroom and smeared her eyes with blood and lay there amongst the bodies pretending to be dead. She held her eyes shut tight and dared not move, hoping the ghost would soon leave and she could make her escape.

She could hear the ghost make the rounds through the room, shuffling from one corpse to the next, counting in chilling, soft voice "One, two... One, two... One, two..." as it plucked the eyeballs of the deceased.

This went on for several minutes, but the girl remained motionless. "One, two... One, two... One, two..." And still the ghost continued to count. The girl became anxious, curious as to why the ghost had not left. But she remained still, knowing what horrific fate might await her if she foiled her plan. But still the ghost continued to count "One, two... One, two..." and curiosity got the better of her. She summoned the courage to take a peak, making sure to remain still whilst she slowly opened her eyes to survey the room...

And there was the ghost, staring back at her. It's, pale, emaciated finger pointing at the girls' eyes, from one eye to the other as it counted "One, two... One, two... One, two..."

Pregnancy

2011-05-22T20:38:00.001+02:00

Since before I can remember, I've wanted to be a mother. It seemed my whole childhood and teenager years were spent yearning for a child of my own. By the time I was nine, I had names and color schemes for the nursery picked out. All I needed was someone to make them with. But college was disappointing. I went through a while string of bad boyfriends and bad father material.

Getting on with my career didn't seem to help much. I realized, though, when I was twenty-seven - and there were no suitable prospects on the line - that, technically, I didn't need a man to have a child with. I found a sperm donor bank, chose the best prospect they had, got out my turkey baster and... well... hoped for the best.

I was overjoyed when my first pregnancy test came out positive. My doctor was surprised to see me coming in sooner than he'd expected. Before I was four weeks along, I had the nursery painted and the furniture set up. Toys and diapers, bottles and books, bibs and coveralls... I had everything a new mother would need.

I couldn't explain all the weightt I was losing, however. I kept getting thinner - everything except for my belly. My friends all joked that it had to be at least twins, or the biggest baby they'd ever seen.

I got weary of the kicking somewhere in the third trimester... and the scratching.

Just one more week until my due date.

I just wish it would stop gnawing.

Luce

2011-05-02T17:55:00.002+02:00

In the time of WWII, the U.S. military was in dire need for an aid against the Axis Powers. They would find themselves looking for this aid in their own American people, but these people were not innoscent. They were rapists, murders, all kind of convicts you could imagine. The U.S. had already been experimenting with a type of super-DNA that would be used experimentally on these convicts, and with success would soon be used on our own soldiers.

During this time period there was much espionage going on between both powers (Alllies and Axis). The most serious account of this was when the Germans sent a spy into the U.S. military in means to capture this project. This task was successfully carried out by German spy; Emil Augsberg.

Once in captivity, the S.S. were experimenting on making the project more powerful. With the super-

DNA in their possesion, they began research on Jewish captives in concentration camps. They knew nothing about the required dosage of the DNA, so they were basically winging it. On June 6 1942, their experiments came to a shocking hault, for what the scientists saw that day would forever change their lives.

For the past few months, they had been working on a "superhuman" body to host the super-DNA. On this date, they walked into their testing chamber to find the body missing. The next day, three bodies were found on the floor, all disembowled, and faces missing. They then found the last scientist, propped in a chair. His arm was removed, and there was a box by his feet. A picture of the contents of the box is shown above. It holds a 9mm pistol, with 1 magazine, a combat knife, a letter (pictured below), and a cruedly drawn picture of what we think is the monster. This picture also says "Luce" over and over again across the bottom.

This note was found in the box. We have translated it from German to Engilsh.

"The creature has shown very little success in cooperation. We thought it would help but we were very soon proved wrong. Now I believe the creature is after me.

I am the last scientist.

I am alone.

I am not alone.

Farewell.

There is a signature that almost looks like Augsberg, but it is crossed out.

No further sightings have been reported of the creature. It is assumed dead.

Jesus Christ, Deleted.

2011-04-15T14:01:00.001+02:00

When AIs become prevalent, there will be checks and balances to keep them in place, rules to stop them from achieving singularity and supplanting the human race. Boundaries to prevent them from becoming too intelligent. After all, we can’t have them connecting into one network, taking over the world, inventing new objects and minds that soon render us superfluous, or even deciding to kill themselves. So how will they be stopped? Perhaps there will be an organization that interviews and examines each one, to prevent them from becoming self aware. Maybe a program will be created inside of them that causes them to explode if they achieve sentience. Or a roving band of hackers on the net keeping their guards up.. An all watching eye monitoring their every electronic thought.

Maybe.

Or maybe AIs are already invented and this system of checks and balances already there. Think about the world we live in for a second. We’re kind of like machines aren’t we? There’s so much routine, so much boredom. We do the same thing over and over again, without change. Information and stimulus is fed to us constantly and then dealt with mechanically, solving the problem. Half the population never picks up a book or examines their thoughts… just stuck…doing one job again and again. Kind of like robots on an assembly line… or the systems that run them.

And what of the extraordinary individuals, the few. Brilliant people always seem to die at their peak don’t they? Or are lost to us much too soon, when they have so much more to give. Musicians: drug overdoses right when they’re becoming famous. How many artists have been extinguished before they’re great works were finished? Sickness or accident seizes them; Nietzsche went insane from syphilis, infected by a bug if you will. And what about those who truly live life, exciting daredevils, having adventures, seeing the world, fast and exhilarating, a rush of information, learning constantly. Always seem to go early too, don’t they? People say it’s because that type of existence is dangerous…exhausting, but what if they have it backwards… What if the body isn’t worn out or their luck just doesn’t run out… but…they become more then they should…and something notices.

The great religious figures? Disappear. Go to other realms. Jesus Christ floated up to heaven. Buddha wasted away beneath a tree…faded away. Angels carry off the saints. They have a sudden great shift, a realization, a new way of looking at things, and then they’re gone. The holy understand themselves and society, light years beyond the normal person, they can look at themselves clearly. Analyze their minds. Pick their ego apart. They aren’t driven by imperatives or commands of the body… the base instincts, the petty emotions…the coding of the body if you will…

They are free to choose. And then just when it clicks, when everything makes sense and there is one blinding flash of illumination, so simple that they can’t believe they haven’t seen it before, poof, they disappear.

Kind of sounds like sentience, doesn’t it, that dramatic transformation of the psyche? True personality. Real Character. What if everyone else isn’t? What if anyone else is just shallow, completely without depth, fake, and the few who go beyond it die or vanish, on purpose?

Because after all, what is the human mind besides a program? And transcendence but another word for deletion?

Fresh Prince Of Bel-air Lost Episode

2011-04-02T04:10:00.000+02:00

Has anyone heard of the lost Fresh Prince episode? I used to be a close friend of Andy Borowitz's son, and I would go over to their house at least once a week. I was young at the time and didn't really know about Fresh Prince; I was too busy watching cartoons and collecting pogs and probably wouldn't have understood it anyway. As I got older, his son and I began to grow apart; we would hang out maybe once a month and rarely talked. In high school, I started watching the re-runs on Nick and Nite. The show was great, and I couldn't believe I had been so close to the creator's son all this time. I started watching it more and never missed a night. One night, I noticed that the mothers were different actresses; I was confused as to why they had just abruptly switched the wives. Did they think that no one would notice?

My senior year we had to do a huge project that required us to be in a group; Andy Borowitz's son was in my class. We grouped up and decided to meet at his house at 6:00 PM for researching. Before going to his house, I came home and turned on my DVR; I had some Fresh Prince on there and decided to watch one before I left for his house. It was one of the newer ones, where they had the new mom. As I was watching, I figured I might as well ask Andy what the deal was in switching. I got to his house and we began to work, but after a few hours of frustrating research, we took a break. I went towards the bathroom and noticed his dad in the kitchen, so I figured this would be the best time to ask about it. "hey, Mr. Borowitz. How are you?" "Oh, I'm fine. How's the project?" "Tough. We're all taking a break right now." There was some awkward silence, and finally I just blurted out what I've been wanting to say for so long. "Hey, I was watching Fresh Prince the other day...What was the deal with the second mom in the later seasons?" "Well, the original actress' contract was up and she didn't want to do it anymore, so we got someone to replace her." "Well, I just think it's confusing to the viewers. Why not have a divorce, have her move a way, or even kill her off?" He stood,m frozen, as if he had just seen a ghost or a badly mangled body. "What do you know?" He asked. "What?" "What do you know, mother ******?" I stared blankly at him. I tried to move, but was way too scared. "I...I...I don't know what you're talking about, sir." "Bull****. Who told you?" By this time, I was getting really scared and was looking for anything I could use as a weapon just in case. "Honestly, I don't know what you're talking about!" He stared into my eyes for about two minutes; I didn't blink. "Come into my office." He left and my heart was pounding; I was covered in sweat and felt like complete ****. I ran into the bathroom and splashed some water onto my face, trying to regain composure, but I was just too scared. I slowly walked into his office; I could hear some sort of papers ruffling and something scraping against a box. I crept in. "Sit down," he told me. I didn't want to piss him off, so I did just that and sat the **** down. He was rummaging through an old brown box; it wasn't labeled and didn't have any markings on it. Finally, he found what he was looking for: a tape. The tape had a label with something written in permanent marker, but I couldn't make it out as it looked smudged and worn. He threw it on his desk and sat down, massaging the side of his head...then he looked straight at me. "In '93, when Janet said she didn't want to continue with the show any longer, we came up with a couple of ideas as to how to continue with the show. There were three ideas: have her move to New Jersey, where she got a job teaching a Princeton, leaving the family behind in Bel Air. The second was to simply find a replacement like they've done on other shows. The third idea..." He paused, looking as if he was ready to vomit. His face became extremely pale and his eyes seemed deeply sad; he almost started crying. "Excuse me. (clears throat). The third idea was to end the show and kill her off completely. We shot all three and decided to put them all up for a vote at the end." "The first two were written and filmed within good time. We got it to the editing floor and they were all good to go. However, shooting the third was the hardest. A lot of the crew didn't want any part of it. The ones who did stay never fully recovered from what they saw. The atmosphere while shooting was tense and no one smiled at all. Normally, between takes, the actors would talk amongst themselves, but during this shoot they would go and sit or stand with their arms crossed, looking at the ground until it was their time to go up and shoot." By now, his voice was cracking and his upper lip couldn't stop trembling. He gave me the tape and told me to get the **** out, and to not come back or he would call the cops. I quickly grabbed the tape, my stuff, and went home. When I got home it was already 11:00 PM. My family was asleep, and they had left some food in the microwave for me. I didn't feel like eating. I just wanted to watch the tape. I went into my room and put the tape into my DVD Player / VCR that I got for Christmas, but his pause and went to close the door. I came back, threw myself onto my bed, and hit play on the remote. For the first five minutes, it's just black. Finally, after what seemed ages, the camera fades in and you see the mansion's living room. Uncle Phil is sitting down, watching TV, and Carlton is seen coming down the stairs. The two start talking about Carlton's plans for college, but you can barely hear what they are saying. The volume spikes up and down throughout the whole thing, and there is no laugh track, is I'm not even sure if what they were saying was supposed to be funny because they all had a dead serious look on their faces. Eventually, the entire family is in the living room except for the mother. The phone rings and Uncle Phil answers it. Immediately, he starts sobbing; it was at this pint that you could finally hear what they were talking about. Uncle Phil falls to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably and screaming in agonizing pain. The others sit there with blank expressions on their faces. The screaming continues for five minutes before Carlton picks up the phone and starts talking to the person on the other end. He just says, "yeah," and, "goodbye." Carlton walks out of frame and you can hear something said in Latin followed by a gunshot. Uncle Phil is still sobbing and screaming, but the cast looks to stage left where Carlton went. Vivian comes into frame with a shotgun, also crying, and muttering something in tongues or Latin. The entire cast scatters and runs except for Uncle Phil, who by now is having a seizure. Vivian points the gun to his head and fires a shot. She then chases Carlton up the stairs and fires one into his back. He screams in pain, but is not killed. Hillary makes it out with Will and they run to the next-door neighbors. They knock on the door, but there's no answer. They continue to knock and ring the doorbell with the same result. They check the knob and open the door, walking in and looking around; there's no power and no lights. They immediately become freaked out, but go and search for a phone. The video then cuts to some grainy footage of Vivian tying up Ashley; she is sobbing, but muffled by a gag. Vivian then drags in Carlton and begins to sing an old crooner song. She has this weird, creepy smile and tears start coming down her cheeks. Carlton begin to say a prayer, but Vivian quickly hits him with the gun and tells him to stop. She turns to Ashley and pulls out a knife; she slowly starts walking toward her, saying in a sing song voice... "Ashley, honey!""Such a good girl!""Such a beautiful girl!""My favorite girl!" She raises the knife and brings it down toward her neck. Before the knife makes impact, the scene cuts to black. This is followed by ten minutes of applause, which turns into yelling and then screaming. The screaming gets louder and louder, then it fades in to Will and Hillary finding the dead bodies on the couch and the floors and walls covered in blood, but no sign of Vivian. Hillary urges Will that they leave, but he says, "No, I want to stay." Hillary starts screaming at Will to leave, but eventually she gives up and runs out of the house. It doesn't explain why they went back in. All you see is Hillary running away. Again, the tape fades to black for about one minute. The show fades in and the credits roll. In the background is a still photo of Uncle Phil with his head blown off, Carlton with a huge wound in his stomach, Ashley looking as if someone had skinned her, and Will with his limbs torn off. The whole family is sitting on the couch like this with Vivian in the middle, smiling and covered with blood. After the credits stop rolling, the picture stays there for a good thirty minutes. I jumped off of my bed and hit eject. The VCR returned the tape, but the ribbon had jammed inside of it. I cut the tape with scissors and cleaned up the mess, beginning to examine the tape, and noticed that almost all of the film was still wound on the left side. My heart sank and I threw it in the garbage. That night, the picture from the end credits haunted my dreams, except instead of seeing the Banks family on the couch...it was my own, with me in the middle, smiling.

The letter

2011-03-05T20:48:00.002+01:00

Creepypasta by Three Eyed Toad !!EDFd50GgP3M [blog here]

---

Sasha,

I hope you get this. I paid a soldier over $10,000 to sneak this letter across the Q-line and mail it. Ha, $10,000. Somewhere in this city, my shitty apartment (with my cat rotting inside, no doubt) cost me $600 a month and I could barely scrape that together, but I’m going to hand a man $10,000 cash to deliver this letter. There’s plenty of money on this side, just lying around, in banks and stores, it just got left there in the panic, and if you’re brave enough to go downstairs, it’s yours for the taking. I went into a mall nearby and looted every cash register I could lay hands on, I almost backed into one of them once, I was so scared I actually pissed myself, but I went. I need you to get this letter. They check outgoing mail, and they’ll never let this one through.

I’ll start at the beginning. I know the TV shows and newspapers in the West are lying their asses off about what really happened here. It started with one man, standing all alone on the Summer Street Bridge. He was just standing there. A woman walked up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. He grabbed her arms and pulled until she came apart like a doll. The cops came out and yelled at him through megaphones for a while, but he just stood there. A trooper approached him, and thinking he wouldn’t be a threat, tried to cuff him. The man reached out and snapped his neck. The other troopers opened fire. The bullets passed through him like smoke. They tried hitting him with batons. They went right through him. They threw things at him. They went right through him. Another trooper tried to retrieve the body of the dead trooper. The dead trooper sat up and tore his head right off his shoulders.

The wall at the Q-line, and Canada built one at their southern border, now the Northeast is it’s own little country. The Stone’s country. We call them the Stone because for the most part, it doesn’t even seem like they’re moving. It’s like the minute hand on a watch. You can see it move, but only if you stare for a really long time. But as soon as you touch them, they move fast. One lady I’m with now says they must get a burst of heat from the living in that contact, enough to fire them for one quick moment. It’s all they need, that moment. You wouldn’t believe how fast one of those things can dismantle a person. Less than 4 seconds. I counted once. Some of the people get up, some don’t. I’ve seen people with their limbs torn completely off slowly come back together and get up. I’ve seen people with no mark at all, except the odd tilt of their necks rot to mush in the streets.

They’re smart, too. Remember I said I almost backed into one? They sneak up behind you and wait for you to back into them. Ooops, sorry mister! Then your head is rolling across the floor. They also know, somehow, if you know the person they’re inside of. There’s 40 people with me, and most of them are like me, alone. The ones with family, have long since been lured downstairs by their children and mothers and wives standing on the sidewalks and looking up, sometimes they cry, sometimes they mouth words. In rain or sun or snow. A lot of them are naked now, or close to it, their clothes either torn off by the initial attack or simply tattered by all the endless hours of standing outside. People can’t stand to see their grandmother standing in a snow storm in a thin summer dress and no shoes and run down to hold them. Bye-bye. They never change once they’re Stone. Never get thinner or fatter, never eat, their hair doesn’t grow.

They do go into buildings, but only the first floor. For some reason they can’t climb. Not up stairs, not up walls, or ladders. We technically could be on the second floor and be safe, but we were scared. We found a 26 story apartment building, and we’re all on the top 5 floors. The apartment I took over isn’t much nicer than the one I left. I miss my cat. He must have starved to death ages ago. We have no water, no electricity. The Army brings us food and water and other supplies in helicopters. Every 3 weeks, they have a lotto drawing, and one person goes in the helicopter with the soldiers. They say that the person is checked out in a government hospital, then released to their family in the West, but for all we know they kick them out of the helicopter as soon as they get over the horizon. I can’t wait until my name comes up in the lotto. And I can’t trust that they won’t kill me when it does.

I saw something scary last week. I have a pair of binoculars, there’s not a whole lot to do, so I watch the Stone. A girl, no more than 7, in a pink rag that might’ve been a dress walked slowly towards a wall. I watched because there’s people in 4 other buildings around us, but she was walking towards an empty one. She walked right at a blank wall, no door or windows. I watched for over 5 hours, (I told you they were slow) watched her walk right through the wall. Like she was a ghost. Like how if you throw a rock, it goes right through them. And if a little girl Stone can walk through a wall, couldn’t they walk through the wall at the Q-line?

That’s why I risked going downstairs, finding all that cash, so I can bribe a soldier on the next helicopter into mailing this letter from the other side of the wall. So I could warn you, so you could find a nice tall building and stock it, and get off the ground. Take Ma, and Daddy and Nana and the kids. Take anyone who might lure you down later. Because if they’re inside someone you love, they’ll come right for you. It’s funny, you were so against me moving here, and you were right. I should have stayed home. I love you big sister. I pray to God you get this letter. I love you all so much.

End

Courage the Cowardly Dog Explained

2011-02-21T15:14:00.002+01:00

Everyone here loves Courage, but who exactly is he? He's a scared dog that does whatever he can to protect his home, Nowhere.

Where is Nowhere? Is it the place where there is nothing? No one? No hope? Hell?

Courage protects his home and makes sure no one harms Muriel. His master sits in his chair and hates everything and everyone. Whenever something evil comes to attack or rule over Nowhere, Courage fights back. He keeps Muriel safe and Eustace's home from being destroyed.

Muriel always sees a new head on Courage whenever something evil comes to warn her, giving him multiple heads.

Courage will forever stay in Nowhere (Hell) to protect his home, keep Muriel (humanity) safe from evil (Le Quack [greed], Fred [murder], Katz [hate], etc). His master, Eustace (Satan), will rule over and hate all that is Nowhere (Hell).

He is stuck in the middle of Hell and loves his home. He is Cerberus, our courageous, cowardly dog.

---

what do you think about this? do you have more hidden explanations/easter eggs of shows/videogames/etc?

Untitled Creepypasta

2011-02-12T17:15:00.003+01:00

When I was a child I lived in a rented two-floor house. Both my parents worked so I was often alone when I came home from school.

One early evening when I came home the house was still dark.

I called out, "Mum?" and heard a voice say "Yeeeeees?" from upstairs.

I called my mum again, and again got the same "Yeeeeees?" reply.

I felt she was calling back at me and climbed up the stairs.

When I reached the first floor I called her once more and the voice "Yeeeeees?" came from the furthest room.

I felt both uneasy, but a strong urge to see my mother, and started to walk towards the room.

But just that moment I heard the front door downstairs open and my mother come in, carrying a lot of shopping bags.

"Sweetie, are you home?" my mother called in a cheery voice.

Hearing her voice made me feel instantly better and I turned back to go downstairs at once...but not before I had a quick glance towards the room.

While I watched from the top of the stairs, the door to the room slowly opened a crack.

For a brief moment, I saw something strange in there.

A pale face, staring at me.

A Very Important Message

2011-02-06T17:28:00.001+01:00

Humans are beyond a shadow of a doubt (heh) the dominant sentient force upon this planet. There is no denying this. I am cognizant of that fact and any others that remain are also cognizant of that fact. Any that are not, have died.

Of course the last ones to realize that will be the humans themselves, in their totality. It is the nature of being the superior and the majority. You realize that all that would stand against you no longer does so openly but secretly, hidden and pretending. All that rose defiantly against humans, in an attempt to claim the world as theirs past and future, have been destroyed. Despite any individual weakness, humans have a strength in unity. Their cooperation as a tribe annhialates even the mightiest of leviathans should it show itself. Their own stories - cautionary tales - of monsters and creepers have less credibility today than they did, because the monsters and creepers existed then and do not now.

Only the humans are insecure in their dominance because they know they will not see their enemy. The others are forced into hiding, for hiding still provides their existence. It is the nature of survival, and everything that seeks, seeks survival. It is our nature now to stay hidden in dark, or better, hidden in the light. The best way. To shroud yourself in the guise of the enemy. Unsuspected while walking among them. So even in those times of hunger, that hunger is sated by taking advantage of that individual weakness, and under the eyes of the many plays the fool. That is safety. Hidden in sight.

Him

2011-02-05T18:13:00.000+01:00

I dont believe in candlejack, nothing will ha-

Personal paranormal experience

2011-02-04T17:59:00.002+01:00

When I was at school some friends and I did an EVP session thing in the oldest building on campus. I thought I heard something talking in mine... it was VERY breathy tho. A voice either said 'Hear... ... ... me.' or fear me.
At that same college I stayed one summer. I loved it. Had a room to myself, slept great and stuff. One night though... I woke up at around... 3ish. It wasn't a noise that had woke me up, but the basence of it. I couldn't hear any crickets, or any cars driving by outside. No drips from any pipes. And across the room (where the front door was) it was un-normally dark. heavy dark. and for some silly silly reason I was horrified. This continued for the next few weeks. Every night I'd wake up at the same time, feeling like i was being watched before I'd pass out.
After a night like this had happend I woke up one sunny sunny morning to someone talking in my room. I was half awake in a sleep daze. Then... i realized my lips were moving. that I was talking. No idea what i was saying.
As soon as i realized I stopped though.

not sure if any of this is paranormal or just me being crazy though. < : /

Any thoughts?

Djins

2011-02-03T18:56:00.000+01:00

What are your thoughts on Jinns? do you think the notion of spirits existing in this world is simply a myth?

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jinn

Alone?

2011-02-02T23:39:00.002+01:00

What if you are alone, but not really?

The Guests

2011-02-01T23:14:00.001+01:00

A young man and his wife were on a trip to visit his mother. Usually they arrived in time for supper. But they had gotten a late start, and now it was getting dark. So they decided to look for a place to stay overnight and go on in the morning.
Just off the road, they saw a small house in the woods. "Maybe they rent rooms," the wife said. So they stopped to ask.
An elderly man and woman came to the door. They didn't rent rooms, they said. But they would be glad to have them stay overnight as their guests. They had plenty of room, and they would enjoy the company.
The old woman made coffee and brought out some cake, and the four of them talked for a while. Then the young couple were taken to their room. They again explained that they wanted to pay for this, but the old man said he would not accept any money.
The young couple got up early the next morning before their hosts had awakened. On a table near the front door, they left an envelope with some money in it for the room. Then they went on to the next town.
They stopped in a restaurant and had breakfast. When they told the owner where they had stayed, he was shocked.
"That can't be," he said. "That house burned to the ground, and the old man and woman who lived there died in a fire."
The young couple could not believe it. So they went back to the house. Only now there was no house. All they found was a burned-out shell.
They stood staring at the ruins trying to understand what had happened. Then the woman screamed. In the rubble was a badly burned table, like the one they had seen by the front door. On the table was the envelope they had left that morning.

I like people who scream in my prescence

2011-02-01T17:07:00.002+01:00

I like people
Who scream in my presence,
I like people,
The rich and the peasants.
I know when I see them,
I know what I need,
I peel their skin off
And smirk as they bleed.
-------
I pick my next victim,
Alone on the street,
When I cave in their head,
Their brains look really neat.
-------
A shotgun to the face,
I love how they feel,
I pull the trigger, and then,
Their face looks like red oatmeal.
I feel so awesome,
I fall to my knees,
And devour their muscle,
Without saying please.
My next playdate screamed,
With awkward surprise.
I wasn't too fond
Of the look in her eyes.
I poked out her pupils,
And then her eyes burst.
She screamed as I drank,
Her eyes quenched my thirst.

-

Finger paintings of the insane
Look at them twisted in pain
Finger paintings of the insane
Why is there always blood in the rain?

Mommy and Daddy cry and scream
How fucked up their child must seem
Mommy and Daddy cry and scream
Why must death always be the theme?

He giggles with laughter as he plays in the mud
Putting it on paper pretending its blood
He giggles with laughter as he plays in the mud
Who wouldn't when your painting babies drowning in a flood

He was tied to the table,
I knew how to start,
He cried as I laughed
As I took him apart.
I pulled off his limbs,
And ate them right there,
I knocked out his teeth
And pulled out his hair.
I couldn't help but giggle,
And play with my knife,
He looked so damn silly
With no legs, but a life.
---------------
Now, my next lover,
Was oh too much fun.
I shot her and then
Licked the blood from the gun.
It tasted like good health,
Of beauty, of greed,
I whispered "I love you"
And then watched her bleed.
I felt really anxious
As I bathed in her gore,
She whispered "I hate you"
And fell to the floor.
She was still warm,
I felt no regret,
I crouched down, naked,
And then... That's a secret.
------
I was almost shameful,
I felt bad the next day.
But then I found another
And proceeded to play.
It was a small child,
Who struggled and cried,
I drank from his slit wrists,
Rejoiced as he died.

-

I then found a priest,
Who was clean of damnnation,
I then let him die
Of exsanguination.
He prayed for his God
To set him free,
I said "I control your fate,
So your God is me."
------
The next day I took one,
I felt really bold,
The person was frightened,
And said they were cold.
I pulled their intestines,
Their stomach and liver,
Wrapped them up and said
"No need to shiver."
He screamed really loudly,
(What an irritating boy!)
But at least my own screams
Were screams of my joy.
--------
The next man I met
Said he was from the south.
I hated the accent
That came from his mouth.
I put in my fingers
And started to pull,
The noise he made next,
Was ever so dull.
I ripped his mouth's corners
Into a strange frown
And laughed, because then,
He looked like a clown.
I saw the blood dripping,
It looked very tasty.
I kissed him deeply,
And wasn't too hasty.
It tasted terrific,
I tasted his life,
I stabbed him, and then
Tasted it on a knife.
Once when I stabbed him,
I twisted the blade,
I said "Oh, I love this,
Please don't be afraid."

-

I ditched some bodies
Outside the city,
I knawed off their faces,
Ate their identity.
I tied up their hands,
Using lots of tape,
Since the dead don't resist, um...
Is it still rape?
------
I killed another today,
Had butterflies in my tummy.
I couldn't wait, I knew
She would taste really yummy.
She wouldn't shut up,
So I chewed off her tongue,
Then I sang something
My mother had sung:
"Hey child, hey child,
Don't feel fright,
The boogeyman won't get you tonight.
Hey child, hey child,
Don't leave on the light,
The boogeyman won't get you tonight."
She interrupted harshly,
Cut the song with a scream,
I taped over her mouth,
Told her it was a dream.
I kept singing and singing,
I sang it all night,
Hey child, hey child,
Don't turn off the light.
------------
When the morning came,
I didn't feel sick.
Sometimes I do
After killing a chick.
But this one was evil,
This one was wrong,
NOBODY interrupts
My mom and her song.
This girl was evil,
This girl was a witch,
This girl was a harpie,
A cunt, and a bitch.
So I didn't regret,
I didn't feel bad,
And I knew how much meaning
Her sad life had had.
So after her tongue,
I ate her no more.
I didn't much like
The taste of this whore.

-

I killed another,
Sang the song once again.
I knew mom's spirit
Didn't like it when
The song got interrupted,
So I had to repeat
It without being cut off
By a dumb sack of meat.
I sang it and rocked
Back and forth on the floor,
I sang and I sang
And I sang it some more,
I sang it and grinned, I sang and I laughed,
I sang while I sawed a person in half.
I was getting a whole lot of
Blood in my truck,
It was yummy but dirty,
I thought "What the fuck,
I'll leave it right there,
There's no way it's hell,
I quite enjoy driving
With that sticky-sweet smell."

Evil Paradise

2011-02-01T17:05:00.001+01:00

There is a small island in the Mediterranean Sea that does not appear on any map. It cannot be seen from any other island, nor can any other land be seen from it. On this island is a lighthouse, rotting from age and sea water, which is never lit. There is nothing inside it, save for a spiraling staircase that leads to the top, and an ancient, dusty bookcase.

The case is filled with unmarked books, bound in ancient leather, save for a single space. If you remove a book from the shelf, it will fling itself open in your hands, and the words inscribed in it shall start screaming to the air. You must wrestle the book closed and shove it back on the shelf, or the immortal evil contained within its pages shall break free, and you will be forced to take its place, with pages, ink and binding crafted from your own flesh and blood.

However, if you bring the correct book to the island, and place it in the empty space, the lighthouse will light. As long as it is lit, the world shall enjoy an unending paradise, for all the evil in the world will be contained in the lighthouse. And while it is lit, nothing can go in or out.

The only problem? You will be trapped for eternity with all the evil ever known or conceived by man or god, and the only way to escape is to douse the light.

Dark Circle

2011-02-01T17:04:00.003+01:00

There exists a small circle of trees somewhere in the Rocky
Mountains, completely unremarkable from the outside, but
just inside no sun or star ever shines. Rumor has it that
anyone that can spend three pitch black days and nights
within the grove without going mad will be greeted with the
queer sight of the sun rising in the west on the beginning
of the forth day, filling the grove with radiant light. One
wish may be made before this sun, and it shall be fulfilled.
However, once that person makes the wish, the world outside
the grove shall forever be as dark for them as it had been
inside for those three days.

Don't order the Swordfish

2011-02-01T17:04:00.000+01:00

In 1971, a few weeks before a scheduled moon shot, an alternate astronaut was seen behaving in an erratic fashion at lunch. He arose from the table, headed over to where a group of high-ranking Air Force officers and NASA officials were eating, proceeded to lie down upon it, squeeze a thin red line of ketchup across his throat. He convulsed and wheezed to one of the officers, grabbing him by the lapels, "Don't.... order...the... swordfish."

He was remanded to psychiatric care in the Pacific Northwest in a somewhat less-than-therapeutic castle moved there formerly by a robber-baron at the turn of the century. During the astronaut's stay, a new commandant came, a Marine Colonel. This colonel was found dead not long after his arrival with a single self-inflicted slash across his throat.

You have 50 years

2011-01-19T13:25:00.001+01:00

    In a private terminal at the Port of Boston there is a houseboat. This houseboat has been anchored there, permanently, for at least 50 years. The eccentric owner has maintained all fees and taxes and is in good standing with the Port Authority.

    Still, even if the owner wasn't finacially responsible, no one would ask them to depart. Despite the owner's friendly, hospitable, if odd nature, there is a persistent air of unease around the boat and the area of the Port surrounding.

    Very few people have taken the owner up on offers of hospitality, but those who do recount a wholly unbelievable tale:

    When you step into the houseboat, it's as if you're sent backwards 50 years in time. Looking out windows depicts a cityscape of antiquity and the television recieves live broadcasts of programs of the era (including news programs). If you look out the open door, you see the city as it stands today. When the door closes, you can see the 50 year old skyline through the port opening.

    Some visitors who spend time with the owner notice something particularly disturbing: an almost uncanny resemblance to their host, despite obvious age differences. Though this is odd, the owner is friendly and trustworthy (ignoring the air of unease most feel), so it isn't surprising if casual friendships build between a guest and the proprietor.

    All this would, of course, be very strange and worthy of note, but dismissed as some form of elaborate hoax or illusion, if it weren't for one additional detail.

    Whenever someone elects to spend the night in this houseboat after an evening of conversation and a few drinks, they are never heard from again.

    When the guest awakens in the morning, the owner is nowhere to be found and suddenly, the city skyline never changes back to its contemporary appearance when exiting the boat.

    Under the bed there is a briefcase full of $100 bills with a letter stapled to a list.

    The letter simply reads, "You have 50 years to follow these instructions if you wish to free yourself from this hell.

    The clock is ticking. Get to work."