Your Creepy

The Voices

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Mon, 21 Jul 2014 22:27:00 +0000

I used to like walking at night. The sweet solitude of it, the clear air, leaving me to my thoughts–it was my own little vice after a busy day at the office. I always preferred the dark, as it doesn’t have the oppressive florescent hum that always tries to make itself heard above the talking, neither does it have the constant clicking of keyboards. The soundtrack to my life is electronic beeps and hums.

I live in a rural area, a small village in the middle of nowhere, a village that is nearly swallowed by the surrounding woods. The woods themselves are a peaceful place–they aren’t creepy like most are, as the trees are spaced out enough to let some light through their foliage. They are a friendly place. That is how I used to describe them–friendly, not oppressive. Even on windy days where you would think that the constant shaking of the leaves would put a chill in your spine, they did not. It was an accepting place.

I usually had a small walk in them at dusk, just as it was turning dark, returning home as the first of the stars started to come out. I would give them a quick look–Polaris, Ursa Major, a bunch of others that I couldn’t name, before going inside. Slightly tired, I would put the kettle on and settle for the rest of the night.
That seems so long ago.

I will never forget that night. No, I can’t say that. I don’t know what is going to happen now I’ve seen them. They want me. I don’t know why, but they want me. They have wanted me for months now. I don’t know why. They won’t tell me.

I’ve been going to a doctor. She’s referred me to a ward in a nice hospital. It is nice, but I insist on being an outpatient. Independence, privacy (I’ve not told anyone at work about this) and all that. They won’t tell me. The voices don’t tell me anything. They only want me to join them.

The night I first saw them. I cannot put it into words. It was as unremarkable; no, that’s not the word, normal, as the others. I walked, sauntered really, while thinking of nothing. It’s a great way of relaxing, thinking of nothing. I haven’t thought of nothing for quite some time. They won’t let me. I rounded a corner and there it was–a free shadow, like the one in Peter Pan, standing in the path. I couldn’t run. My body told me to, but I couldn’t move. I stood there, looking at the thing. No features, as I remember, not even any fingers I could see. It stood still, so very still. I must have stared at it for five minutes. It felt like sleep paralysis, a great weight in my chest, my limbs had turned to rock and all I could do was stare. I don’t even know if it were staring back. After minutes of this, it turned and went away.

They never leave. Never, never, never leave. They get in your head. I don’t know how, but they are in there. Is it dark in the skull? Can they be inside you? They like the dark. The light does not interest them. They never leave. They never leave. Join us, they say. Join us in the night. I’ve got work to do, says I. Join us, they say. I hear them in the day, the night, dawn and dusk. Join us, join us. Even deafening myself did not work. Join us, join us. I can’t think of anything else. Join us, join us. What do you want? I scream at lampposts. Join us, join us, they reply.

I think I will. They might leave me alone after tonight.

Don’t worry.
I’m coming.

Darkness and insanity infest my mind

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Sat, 19 Jul 2014 11:02:00 +0000

My name is jimmy,I have dark black hair, green and brown eyes, and I am living in America.

I tried to keep this secret balled up for four years. I kept it from my brothers, cousins, friends and even my parents. But now I need to share it. It's slowly ripping me apart and one day I will not have the strength to resist and give in. I need people to know what is happening to me.

Since I was ten years old around when I hit puberty, I started to feel different. Not just more aggressive and older like other kids but something changed mentally. It started for me to not have dreams or visions of small things in the future. When I go to sleep I lay down, get under the covers, shut my eyes and drift off into to the deep darkness of sleep. When I am asleep all I see is darkness and nothing else only for a few seconds. Then I wake up the next morning and remember nothing of last night. At least not the specifics. The general things I remember, but before I went to sleep I remember nothing. And when I try to remember if I had a dream or not all I know is it was pitch black. Maybe I do have dreams and just forget them... I don't know. But it happens every night.

Then started the poems around 5 mouths after I hit ten. At least once every two or three night a deep and dark rhyme or poem (what ever you want to call it) pops into my head. It's never anything bright or happy, but always dark and just bad. I've shown some of them to my parents saying that I wrote them. They say it's dark stuff. But they say that I have a talent. But I know I didn't write those poems, they are a curse to me. I'll show you one of many that I have, not too long and not too bad. "I am the darkness that clouds your mind, I am the chill that runs up your spine, I am what drives the killer behind the blade, And I am the children that just wants to "play", I am the monster that hides in the shadows, And I am also hiding in the meadows. I am the evil in the deepest part of your mind, And so I tell you... Don't look behind, You"

That is just one of many that I have stored away. I know it sounds like some dumb horror thing, but they get into my head they keep repeating themselves over and over. Never stopping. Most of the time I just try to ignore them. I don't write them down and try to focus on another subject. But it never works for long.

Now started the urges, I got these three months before my eleventh birth day. Likely every 5 days or more I get these urges. The urge to kill someone... But I don't feel that it's me that thinking this. It's like another person is inside me. Changing into different people every time. And every urge there is, a different way the "person" wants to kill someone. Like a week ago it happened again and the thoughts of killing some one by shoving poison down there throat and watching them choke and foam at the mouth. Now that seems like and average thing a killer wants to do(right or have I just see to many fucking ways to kill people that I think that's an average thing?) . But the very ingredients appeared into my head to make the poison: a very strong toilet bleach and pesticide, and mix it. Now don't mix those ingredients in any situation PLEASE. I don't want to be responsible for someone getting injured, sick or dead, I have enough bad things going on as you can see. Anyway I can resist doing the urges, but every time I have these I feel my very sanity very very slowly slipping away. It's so horrible, hearing all the ways of killing people bottled up in my damn head. The thought of ending someone's life for my own personal pleasure. I have to remember that, THAT IS NOT ME.

But sometimes very rarely I hear names, they sound like characters from a horror movie. The names I've heard so far in order are laughing jack, eyeless jack, Sally, and Toby. I the first time was when I was eleven, the name laughing jack pops into to my head faster than the blink of an eye. Then the thoughts started coming of clowns, candy and smile. All day smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile smile. Never stopping until it's around time to go to sleep, but after the thoughts stop. The ways of killing start, cutting open people and stuffing their insides with candy. I didn't sleep that night, or any night I hear those names.

Three days after laughing jack, I searched the name online, it was the first time I actually heard a name. I looked online and apparently laughing jack was a creepypasta story. Most of you reading this probably know what that is but for those who don't, creepypasta is a creepy story from an online forum, blog or some other source like such. So when I searched the name online I came across a website that told the legend or story of laughing jack, and this crept me the fuck out. The ways he kills in the story, we're the same fucking ones that poped into my head three days before. To this day I will always remember that moment when I read that story. Same exact fucking thing for the others, eyeless jack takes your kidneys and eats them, Sally has a teddy bear that kills people with a knife, and lastly Toby. Toby is a murderer who wields an axe. But one thing that ties them all together is that they all come around once a year after my b-day. Before the ways of killing it always repeats in my head "Smile", like with laughing jack. I'm fourteen now going into high school, and it's not getting any better. I can feel myself slipping away. I think I have four or five more years before I crack.

I can't tell my parents because I don't know how they will react. They will probably be scared of me or horrified. Then take me to a physiatrist where then I will be put in an insane asylum for the rest of my life. If you know who I really am or my identity, well now you know.

Dead bodies in a bell jar

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 22:06:00 +0000

Have you heard of the Isaac Newton experiment where he put an alarm clock in a bell jar and takes the air out; this was to prove that sound can only pass through air and he is right. Now a group of scientists got a similar bell jar but only bigger way bigger, big enough for a dead body.

They wanted to see what would happen to a dead body after a couple of months in one of these large bell jars and by taking the oxygen out, they wanted to find out if the body rots, they didn't really know what to expect there were so many theories saying the dead bodies would still rot and some theories saying they would not rot. Unfortunately the scientists never find as they had to abort the experiment and they never wanted to do another one ever since.

They were allowed to do the experiment on five recently dead people and they were given the permission to do so by the deciesed families. The dead people were quickly put into separate large bell jars and the oxygen was taken out, the first hour nothing really happened and nothing interesting to tell the world.

Then after another half an hour the dead bodies were opening and closing thier eye lids and even shaking, the scientist were shaking in complete and utter freezing fear. They didn't know what was happening or if there was some scientific explanation as to why the dead dead bodies were showing signs of life in a non-oxygenated environment. They all started to ask "is this the afterlife? There is no air so it must be" and they kept saying this over and over again. The funny thing is as well, they were in a large jar with no oxygen, so then how did the scientists hear them with no oxygen to carry the sound? The scientists realised that in the afterlife you don't need things like air as that is part of the world of the living.

Then dark grizzly figures appeared in the large jars and the dead five started showing signs of fear, the dark figures whisper into thier ears and they all started crying, because they heard news that they are going hell. They started begging for someone to save them. The scientist couldn't take enough of it and put oxygen back into the jars and the five dead bodied went back to being dead.

What the scientists witnessed was the afterlife.

Whenever I get ill

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 22:02:00 +0000

Don't you hate it when you get ill and your body is weak, puking and high fever to make you sweat, being in life is one of those downturns of being alive. It makes you realise for a moment that your mortal and not invincible. With all the cures we have in the world it kind of sounds crazy that we still have the little one flu or virus, I guess as a child being ill is a good thing as you get to miss school but being and adult while ill, its not so fun.

As a child when I was ill, I use to get fed all sorts of weird medicine with a weird taste. I didn't mind being ill back then as I got to stay in bed all day and miss school, I didn't really enjoy visiting the doctor incase of an injection. I don't mind injections anymore as an adult, another thing I do remember though when being ill as a child is that my imagination use to run a little wild. I would see weird things moving and hear weird things talking but only when I was ill.

I told my mother of this and she said it was just my illness playing tricks me, as the mind starts to float more than usual as she would tell me. Then when I would get better everything would get back to normal and I would forget the whole 'imagination' incident. I kind of learnt to use this weird phenomena of mine as a warning for myself to tell me if I am getting ill again. Like If I would start hearing or seeing weird things again, then I knew I must be; becoming.

As an adult, I have had one experienced where I caught a bad virus and I was bed ridden for weeks. I had migraines, ear infections, soar throat, fever, lung infection and I felt really weak, but with all of that; my imagination started floating off even more as I could hear and see things and weird looking creatures all over my room and it was annoying. Now I told myself that they are just my infected poorly mind dealing with what I have, but when one of these shapeless, faceless colorful creatures touched my feet, I froze in complete fear. I wondered if it was actually my imagination because imaginational creatures can't actually touch you.

On my phone, I struggled to type in the google search bar 'seeing weird things when ill?' and what I had found out was that there are many people like me out there who see, listen and even touch weirdly looking creatures from other worlds but only when they are ill. There have been experiments on this and basically, when you are healthy your basic senses like eyes, ears, touch ect are strong plus shielding us from seeing the afterlife and the aura that surrounds us living humans; protects all of us from other worldy creatures from literally touching us or abducting and even possess us, but when you are ill these senses weaken which explains the strange noises and strange things I have been seeing whenever I get ill.

Now depending on the strength of the illness, the iller you are the more you will see and hear from other worldy creatures and you will even be able to touch them, there have been incidences where very sick people have disappeared or vanished and never seen again, but before they vanished they complained of experiences with weird movements and sounds.

It was the middle of the night when it got worse and these creatures were everywhere talking to each other in thier weird language. Then they all started touching me with thier cold sharp hands, my senses were too weak to protect to me as I was extremely ill. I simply fainted, when I awoke I felt much better and seemed to have regained health while asleep from fainting, it looked my sensed came to save me at the last minute when I regained health, but one thing I can tell you is that I had scratch marks all over my body.

Retribution Of The Eldest God

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 11:15:00 +0000

Tsunami like waves arise outward in every direction, the ocean sinking and growing like the chest of a newborn child. Thunder strikes in the distance and the clouds growlwith the protest of Thor himself. The new gods muster and stir on their thrones and the ground deep below the ocean floor cracks and crumbles inwards. Whirlpools spin out to the great beyond and the water makes one final eruption, sinking deeper and deeper inwards before stopping. A terrifyingly inhuman shadow arriving beneath its surface. Much larger than anything living should be, a mass so large and indistinguishable that it brings true, unadulterated fear to the hearts of sailors everywhere.

The seismology scale for this day skyrockets and the scale makes a faint noise before simmering out and making it's final reading
The Earth shakes, and the tides rattle and roar with defiance to the new worlds ignorance.
The Elder god has awoken. The shade moves slowly but certainly upwards, the large patch of open and angry water rises with it, all the fish have taken shelter within the coral and behind the algae covered catacoves of the ocean long before this monster has made it's true appearance. For the first time in a millenia the true god of the ocean makes his prescence known to the world.
The Reckoning of the world has betrayed his slumber, a storm in which the likes humanity has never seen and will never see again. A blinding sight and the coming of a new extinction.
The creature brings the ocean to it's toes as it finishes it's ascent out of the oceans deep neglected cover. It's arms scrape the skies and drape the storming waters with surfacing waters.
The Monster let's fourth a monstrous sound, a deep roar akin to the volume of a thousand thunderous roars cracking the seas otherwise calm and serene seascape.
The world around the beast vibrates from the sound and a ship in the distance notices the beast in the storm, almost completely obscured by the blankets of rain that fall from the sky and the violently relentless rolling of the ocean.
The monsters eyes glimmer a bright, sinister red for a moment as it turns to meet it's guest. It stomps forwards, pushing aside miles of vertical ocean with it's legs and lower torso. The sheer displacement of the sea causes waves to trudge forwards.
The beast makes it's distain known.
The ship is awry with panic.
The men running to and fro, some trying to make accomodations to turn the vessel out of the path of the monolothic creatures path, others panicking and trying to find a safe way out, a way that will ensure their survival. Once collected and normally friendly men thrash their ways around the deck. Lashing out like a cornered animal at anyone that might pose a threat, at anyone or anything that might stop their struggle for safe release from this nightmare. Men are being thrown overboard in the mad animalistic frenzy taking place on board, people who were once comrades see the fear and primal instinct in the pale and panicked shells of their old friends
The Captain is barking commands firmly to no avail, and as the creature lurches forwards his voice starts to quiver.
The crewmen hear the sounds of their once ironclad leaders voice diminish to the mumble and whispers of a scared child. Screaming is the vessels new melody, and the last song that some of these men will ever hear in their slow, paralyzed descent into the oceans depths. Surrounded by violent darkness, pushing inwards on them. Threatening to engulf them.
The dark surface of the water fading out of sight, and their lungs giving off one final, futile struggle
The creature steps within reach of the large vessel, the equivalent of a bath toy to the creatures unnatural height. It slowly leans forward, one skyscraping arm reaching forwards, and a huge clawed hand gripping the boat at it's center. It straightens itself, and stands straight with the boat raised to it's chest, the crew still scrambling overboard madly and risking the 100ft drop to the oceans cruel, raging surface.

The ships deck meets eye level with the monster, the huge, heart-sinkingly sinister eyes greet the remaining crew with squinted resentment.
The creature begins to speak, the enormous tentacles veiling it's mouth shaking calmly and rigidly.
The crew of the ship reaches a paralyzed, terrified silence.
The happy and partying crew that was once erupted into a rowdy party and a hearty ruckus was now staring solemnly into the eyes of what they're certain is their unholy demise. Their eyes dry from the violent thrashing of the wind and their jaws fully agape in the face of this beast.
A tired rumble leaves the beasts mouth, and it's words berate and accaust the ship, shaking the frail metal body of the ship and knocking over the smaller members of the crew. "Can't you see some of us are trying to sleep here?"

The Medical Reports of Dr. Brandon Foxeley

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Fri, 18 Jul 2014 11:06:00 +0000

Doctor Brandon Foxeley-Report 5511-1st September 2010

I have never seen a case of mental illness as bad as this. The young woman we have in cell 25 is inconsolable. She does not speak to anyone. When we open the door to her cell, she tries to attack the attendants, screaming like some kind of animal. We have had to prescribe heavy doses of morphine just to calm her.

She mutters constantly. We have recordings, but they are nonsensical. They give no details as to who she is or rather, who she was. There is something vacant about her, if it is not unprofessional or insensitive to say. I cannot even ascertain what illness she may have. She is clearly delusional, as the following transcript shows, but her delusions are all linked–they are not the usual mess of symbolism which usually haunt the mind. I hope she calms down soon, for I wish to at least help her, make her comfortable. It is so odd, how the mind destroys itself. All I can hope for is to pick up the pieces of this shattered woman. I now give the transcript, taken on admission, on the 29th August of this year.

TRANSCRIPT

(Screaming) Let me join them! Let me join join join them! You don’t understand! NONE OF YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAAND! EUPHORIA WOULD HAVE BEEN MINE! BLISS IN THE NIIIIGHT! I MUST JOIN THE NIGHT! THE NIGHT WILL HAVE ME! LEAVE ME ALONE-

At this point the Woman tried to bang against the door for the next five minutes. No attendants were admitted in this time, as it became apparent that she was, at that point, extremely dangerous.
(Sobbing-hoarse voice) Please…(5 seconds) please. Let me go. Let me go. I want to be with them…(5 seconds) They cannot be here. Too light…(5 seconds) Too light…
She repeated this for around three hours before lapsing into silence for a further two. An attendant was sent in.
ATTENDANT: Are you alright?
WOMAN: (Calmly) Get out
ATTENDANT: Are you sure?
WOMAN: (Calmly) Yes
We called the attendant out. She was silent for a further hour before she stood up and started speaking again.
(Calmly) Thank you. You won’t let them have me (Laughter-20 seconds) THEY WON’T HAVE ME!
She became silent again, and has not spoken since.

Doctor Brandon Foxeley-Report 5512-2nd September 2010

I managed to get some information on the Woman in cell 25. Her name is Abigail Hare. She used to be an off West End actress. She disappeared off the radar around five months ago. She has no family. She is still muttering and shouting intermittedly, always the same thing about “the night” and such. I have no idea as to what could be wrong. I hate to use the term, but she may, genuinely, be insane. I cannot see anything in her history that points to mental illness. Her family have no history; she was doing alright for herself. She is not a habitual user of narcotics. I don’t know. I want to help, but I cannot if I don’t know what is wrong with her.

Doctor Brandon Foxeley-Report 5513-3rd September 2010

Something is physically wrong with Abigail. We noticed it on the camera late last night. She is currently standing in the middle of the room, looking dead into the camera. Her mouth appears to be always open in a wide, toothless grin. It sounds strange, but that rictus looks like one that shows immense pain which she is not showing. She is not moaning, screaming, anything to indicate this. It is her eyes that are the worst. We opened the door today, to see what was the matter was and she turned to us, slowly, dare I say, unnaturally. That is when I saw the eyes. They were black rimmed, tinged with red and pink. They were empty. Empty eyes. I have worked with Heroin addicts for over ten years and I have never seen such eyes–even they had life in them. Abigail’s did not. They were the eyes of the dead. She was still breathing, I could see that. I am going to ask for a second opinion as soon as possible.

Doctor Bradon Foxeley-Report 5514-4th September 2010

Abigail has gone missing. We do not understand it. The door was locked and there are no windows. We were watching on the camera when she suddenly moved to the bed. She took out a piece of paper and a pen (We do not know how she got these items) and was seen to scribble something down. The camera then cut out for a little over two seconds. When it came back, we were panicked to see that she had gone. We ran down to her room and opened the door. There was nothing left of her. She has disappeared. All we have to present to the tribunal is a single scrap of paper. The writing on it reads nothing other than “I the night now”. I failed her as a doctor. I deserve everything I get.

Professor Arden's Letters

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Thu, 17 Jul 2014 17:02:00 +0000

I am aware that I am not particularly good at creepypasta, but I genuinely want to get better at writing them. Any pieces of constructive critique are greatly appreciated

3rd May 1921

Dear David,

My dear friend, how have you been keeping? I know that Egypt is not the most hospitable, or indeed, the most civilised of places and I do know how you prefer the warmth of the English countryside to the heat of the desert any day!

But to the matter on hand. I thank you greatly for your interest in my discovery, even though I find it odd that an Egyptologist such as yourself would give it the time of day, what with mine being the Neolithic, but still I thank you.

Yes, good sir, it is true, I have found evidence of what I presume to be some kind of pre-Celtic deity or, indeed, deities that were seen to be like us, but not. Deities that were worshipped in the night, specifically. My associate, Edward, assures me that these pictographs are completely authentic. Such a discovery reshapes our perception of these primitive peoples. I am sure that my fellow faculty members will be as excited as I am about this prospect. We found them quite on accident, you know. We were caving in northern Norway (you know how much I love that country) when we came across an odd looking cave. It looked to be one that was not naturally formed. Of course, our academic curiosity took over, and we wandered in, with little more than ourselves and a pair of torches. And bless me, what did we find? A completely preserved cave dwelling. I sent Edward back to the surface immediately, to get a hold of a camera. Hopefully the university will fund some kind of dig in the near future, for we could learn so much about the humans that could have been. Who knows, perhaps we could even find how they worshipped such deities, even without language!

Yours,
Professor Bertram Arden

7th May 1921
Dear David,

Great news, old friend! The university has decided to fund the dig. We start with immediate effect. Even old Wartson was excited–and this is a man who knew Huxley senior on a personal basis.
Poor Edward is having some trouble sleeping. I don’t know, these young people let things get to their heads so easily. Still, he must be as excited as I (he being my co-discoverer) about this prospect. This will revolutionise everything we know about this seemingly misunderstood people. If they had religion then it is not a great leap of the imagination to think that they may have had language! Who knows? Perhaps we will find some traces of Indo-European, the first of languages!
Yours,
Professor Bertram Arden

16th May 1921
Dear David,

Edward has gone missing. He was complaining somewhat about sleepless nights. Kept going on about whispering and the like. I told him that it was the excitement of the find, that he should not let it go to his head so much. But now he has gone. I have been making enquiries about him, asking his peers down at his Club, but they all said the same thing. The oddest thing, though, is that they told me that he had taken to sleeping during the day, usually in the Club rooms, rather than his own. I am rather concerned about this and, as you can imagine, his parents are frantic–they lost their other boy, Timothy, in 1916, you know. My thoughts do go out to them.

We found some rather interesting things in the cave–some very basic pottery and such, but nothing we have not seen before. It is the pictographs, however, that are the most striking. It seems that whatever paganistic religion these people had was obsessed with the night, for the Moon appears to be always present in them. The beings which they worshipped seemed to live with them all the time, but only certain people, the priests (for want of a better word) could see them. Interesting indeed,
Yours,
Professor Bertram Arden

20th May 1921
Dear David,

I do not like children. It seems that they really do enjoy tricking people, especially their elders and betters. Some of the little blighters have decided to goad me by running circles about me when I am alone, just out of my line of sight–an attempt to scare me, no doubt. Do they not know that kind of thing is reserved for October? They do get dafter, don’t they?

Poor Edward is still missing, and all my investigations are coming to nought. His parents are despondent, the poor things, I do hope for his safety.

The cave is also wielding no more. Not even a skeleton to find! All we have is bally pictographs! They are, admittedly, beautiful to look at. Some of them seem to be rather complex, nothing like the hand prints the natives of Australia practice, or even the ones depicting hunts and such. Some even resemble, in proto form of course, Celtic symbology. Some draw you in, as if your eyes must follow one of the weaving lines round and round till you reach the centre. Absolutely mesmeric.
Yours,
Bertram

1st April 1921
David,

I saw Edward in the cave yesterday. I called out to him, but he did not answer. Instead he turned and looked straight at me. I have never seen anything like it, old man, and that is the truth. His eyes, David, I have not seen anything like them. They were filled with fear, anguish, all those awful emotions, mixed with a deep mourning and strange calm. And his face. I cannot describe it, friend, I really cannot. It was not a living face. His mouth formed a silent scream, never moving away. He moved erratically, an obscene string puppet of the man that once was. He tried walking toward me, holding his arm out as if he were beckoning. I turned and ran. I ran as quickly as I could. I do not remember running so quickly since my school-days. I ran screaming into the arms of one of the diggers.

Out of all the things on God’s green Earth that thing, for it could not have been the boy I knew as Edward Grensley, is something that does not belong. I go back to the university tomorrow. I have instructed the diggers to cease work immediately. I will destroy all the images of the pictograms, though it is a shame to do so.

Some of the designs were really quite exquisite, some even wonderful. The way they caught one’s eye. Some even seemed to speak to me on some kind of deeper level. The way the Moon was drawn, the way the deities, even though simplistic, interacted with the mortals in the night, all the scenes of seeming worship, all the way down to the colours were just sublime in their strangeness. I doubt I will ever forget them, all the scenes of the people of the night,
Yours,
Bertram

The Crash

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Thu, 17 Jul 2014 16:47:00 +0000

I sat in my car, staring into the intersection of the two empty roads. The gentle green haze of the traffic light opposite me washed over the hood of my car. The night was calm, with only a gentle breeze could be heard outside of my rolled down window. A solid five seconds passed before I released the brake and accelerated through.

I must be more tired than I thought, I admitted, I barely even noticed the light changing. Settling into a steady speed, I mentally ran through my route home, noting any long stretches of monotonous driving, the ones that would easily lull me to sleep. The open window and cool air did nothing to refresh me, and the broken radio could not excite me with music from a far away station. I sped up, allowing the wind to make more noise around me.

The day had been a long one, but tomorrow would bring more. While the thoughts of my bed filled me with joy, I knew that it would be like quicksand tomorrow morning. Maybe I should set the coffee maker before I sleep, to have it ready, after all what's another couple of minutes once I'm home? The extra time to sleep in would feel amazing, and the fresh smell of coffee is a wonderful thing to wake up to. If I though about it hard enough, I could almost smell it now...

With a sharp jerk, the steering wheel leapt out of my hands, and a deep rumbling erupted from the passenger's side of the car. Seizing the wheel, I flailed to the left, spinning the wheel to get my car back on the road. The car immediately curved left, and towards a sturdy telephone pole. Reversing the spin, took the front end away from the pole, but my back end was already gone. Through my rolled-down window, I saw nothing but wood and then...
Nothing.
Blackness.

I came to, wondering where I was, what was going on. I remembered flashes. A green light. A low rumble. A loud screech. The pole. I had hit the pole. Of course. A chill shot through me.
How bad is it? When is it going to hurt? Who is going to help me?

I waited. And waited. No pain, no wet blood, nothing. I moved my arms, my legs. All felt okay. Slowly and gingerly I rolled out of the wreck of my car, and stood up. Either than the scene before me, the black skid marks and the metal, crumpled heap of my car, I couldn't believe that I had slid of the road.

After peeling my eyes from the scene, I had a look around. A thick gray fog had descended, limiting distant sights. In the middle of nowhere, and with no cars seen for hours, and fields all along the road, I had no idea what to do next.

How am I going to call for help? Do I even need help, or do I just need a ride? For all I know I am the only person for kilometers. And where did this fog come from, how long was I out?

Turning back to the wreck, I see a dark liquid creeping out from underneath the car. First fearing a gasoline leak, I slowly back up. But the liquid moved slowly. Maybe radiator fluid, brake fluid? No, it wasn't flowing from the engine. The inky liquid's source came from the interior of the car, from behind the closed driver's side door.

Closed door? Didn't I open that to get out of the car? I don't remember if I did or not. Maybe I have a concussion.

I slowly walked up and peered through the window, and saw my own reflection staring back at me through the window.
I had my window rolled down, that I remember.

Through the open window, I saw my own broken, bloody body crumpled in the driver's seat.
Stumbling backwards, I made no sound. I could not scream, or vomit, or gasp at all. My hand was there, my legs were there, but there I sat with empty eyes gazing back at me. I turned, put my head down and ran. Away from my body. Away from my car. Away from the whole situation. If I ran hard enough, fast enough, I'd wake up, either in my bed or back in the car.

I don't know how long I sprinted, but when I was done I layed down on the road, the car was long gone. The thought of me being dead crossed my behind, but I couldn't believe it. I had run, dead people don't run. I was breathing, dead people don't breathe. It didn't make any sense.

I sat up and noticed far in the fields a dilapidated barn, a single spotlight on its side. The fog cast a giant, glowing halo around it. As I rested, my chest heaving, my eyes grew accustomed to the distant light. Slowly, dark figures began to materialize as I focus. The longer I stared, the more I could see. First, there was one near the barn, with another even farther away. Then another, on the roof of the barn.

As I scanned around, I saw more and more. Every twenty to thirty meters, there was a three-dimensional shadow, wandering aimlessly through the fields. None even acknowledged my existance.
Where were these shadows while I was driving? The fields were absolutely barren.

The closest shadow was on the road with me. Another twenty paces or so and I would have run straight into it. I remained quiet, and watched it carefully. The shadow walked slowly, with no apparent direction or goal.
A dog barked a long ways away, and the shadow turned.

It faced me, and a pair of giant, glowing red eyes opened on its chest. The small, pitch-black pupils pierced my own. The shadows in the field turned as well, each one towards me, each one opening two deep red eyes on their chest. Away from the barn, far into the night, red dots appeared like a herd of wild animals.
The shadows began to, ever so slowly, walk towards me. The closest shadow remained rooted in place, its infernal eyes freezing me in place. After what felt like forever, two other shadows had closed in, surrounding me in the middle of the road. One by one, they opened a mouth-like hole underneath their eyes, right in the middle of their torsos. I could see the road through the mouth of the closest one.

Finally, all at once, an unearthly screaming filled the air. The sounds that eminated from them spoke of an unearthly plane, of pain and sadness that was locked up for too long, and finally released. Their lamentations separated my mind from my soul, and I added my voice to theirs.

The Puppet Master

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Thu, 17 Jul 2014 16:38:00 +0000

Ok, to start this story off I'm going to give you a little background on our main character, The Puppet Master. The Puppet Master used to be know as a man named Frank Rogers. That is until his family was murdered and he went insane. No one who knew him the would recognize him now. Most people who knew him then thought he was dead. This is probably because he lives in a rundown shack in the middle of the woods that's probably been there since the early 1900s. I know the question that is probably plaguing most of you're minds right now is why is he called The Puppet Master? Well remember how I said he went insane? Yeah he had puppets.

Not you're normal little toy puppets (which are still freaky as fuck) that you get from a toy store. I mean life size, realistic looking puppets. He treated these puppets like humans. He ate with them made them walk around the house with him, watched tv with him. They were his company. But then some freaky shit started happening. Here's his story.

The Puppet Master giggled as he twirled his blonde puppet around the kitchen. "You like dancing don't you Lucy? You're such an elegant woman." The oven beeped signaling that dinner was done. He set his puppet at the kitchen table with great care. Making sure her arms rested on the table to support her. He then kissed her on the lips. "Ooooh you're lips are getting a little crusty Lucy. We'll just have to do something about that." He bounded away to take his food out of the oven happily.

He whistled as he arranged their plates. He loved to whistle this tune because he knew it was Lucy's favorite. When brought the plates to the table and frowned as he set them down. One of Lucy's arms was hanging off the table and she was hanging have off the table. He shook his head and smiled. "Such a clumsy girl Lucy." He said affectionately as he rightened her. He sat opposite her and began to dig into his meal. About halfway through he looked up with a scowl.

"Lucy you must eat. You're becoming skin and bones! Ah well, no help for it." After washing his plate the Puppet Master picked up Lucy's strings and walked her back to the living room where he placed her on his lap as they watched television.

"Oh look at little Emma in her blue dress and Daniel in his suit." He crowed as he picked up the little children's puppets strings and made them dance. When he got bored with watching tv he laid little Emma and little Daniel on the couch next to the remote in case they wanted to watch tv and walked Lucy up to their room shaking her strings and giggling when she stumbled.

The next morning when The Puppet Master went downstairs the remote that he had left next to Emma and Daniel now laid on the floor in front of them. He shook of any uneasiness but as the day wore on he began to notice more and more things mysteriously moving whenever his puppets were around. He went and locked himself in his room so he could think. He rocked back and forth on his bed.

"Of course it's just silly. They can't be alive. Their just my puppets after all. Besides the love me." He muttered over and over. He gave a high pitched laugh and started to cry. After about an hour of this he went back downstairs to the living room where he'd left his puppets. Lucy and Emma and Daniel were nowhere to be found. The Puppet Master spun in circles and ran through the house trying to find them but they weren't there. He ran back to the living room calling, "Oh Lucy! Oh Lucyyyyyy Roberts! Where are you?" He heard three high pitched giggles behind him and whirled. Lucy and Emma and Daniel stood behind him their rottening mouths twisted into hideous smiles. The Puppet Master felt a pulling deep in his chest as if someone were pulling something out with a string. There was a loud pop and suddenly he couldn't move.

Lucy walked towards him smiling wickedly. She was no longer attached to strings and rotting. She was just as beautiful as she was the day he killed her. She ran one long sharp nail down the side of his face. "You should have never fucked with mommy.' Behind her Emma, now also restored, gave a high pitched horrible laugh. "Looks like there's a new puppet master now." She said laughing hysterically as she wielded his strings and made him dance. "Oooh look at him dance children!" Lucy cackled. "He's going to make a nice little puppet."

Side note: Frank Rogers also killed his father but rather than waste string making him into a puppet, for he did not like his father, he chopped him up and put him in their "meals".

Mad Maddy

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 20:23:00 +0000

When I was little, I had very bad nightmares. They became so frequent, I thought nothing of them. But the one that has stuck with me throughout these years has been that of "Mad Maddy."

In my dream, I walked around a place that reminded me of "Alice In Wonderland." As I explored, a girl around my age, eight or nine, appeared sitting on a giant leaf.

"Hello. My name is Maddy. What is yours?" She asked craning her neck almost completely to the left.
"L-Lucy," I stuttered.

With a flash of movement she suddenly snapped straight, her back rigid and her vertebrae visible through her light blue spaghetti strap dress.
"COME WITH ME," I heard a loud voice right next to my ear and turned to see her standing right behind me.

As I followed her, we stayed silent. I watched as her steps became sloppy and her legs started looking...boneless.

Her body became limp until it was just skin. She was just skin moving forward and her dress hung, barely clinging to her.

I stopped walking. Her sagging disfigured head spun all the way around as black sockets where her eyes used to be, stared me down. She stared moving towards me like one of those slinky toys.
She dropped to the ground and when she rose, a gleaming silver knife was held in her grasp. "Why did you stop walking?" She slurred, as teeth dropped from her mouth.

I backed up and into a giant mushroom. "Maddy, I'm sorry, I promise I'll follow you," I quickly said as I put my hands up.
"Too late," she said as her face morphed into a hideous, haunting, drooping grin.

I ran in the direction we walked from as mad cackling echoed impossibly loud in my ear.
"WE'RE ALL MAD HERE," She screeched as I saw a bright red door and turned the knob.
Locked. I banged on the door wailing,"LET ME OUT, PLEASE LET ME OUT!"

The last thing I remember were those black socket eyes as I bolted upright in my bed.
To this day I am afraid to go to sleep.

The reason they fight

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 19:47:00 +0000

I always thought the Super Smash Bros. Series was awesome...The way the characters were, the stages, the music... Everything was perfect, until, I learned the truth. Playing the game, Super Smash Bros, Brawl over again, I aimed to get every trophy, music sheet, and whatnot. The final trophy I got, had been for beating the entire game, but for some reason, it wouldn't let me see it.

Perplexed, I started looking through the game, searching for the trophy that isn't there. Giving up, I started to turn off the system, but a voice stopped me... ''So you seek for your treasure, do you?'' I was astounded, and creeped out. But, nevertheless, the voice continued. ''I can show what you seek, but prepare yourself, for most who've been shown goes mad.'' Pfft, I thought. It's a freaking game, what could happen. Going to the main screen, a notice pops up, a new movie appeared. Strange, Notices aren't usually based from the movies appearing...

Sure enough a new movie appeared, named The Truth. I clicked it being curious, I wish that I was scared and shut off the console, why did I have to do that????The movie begins with the Mario Brothers, visiting the Mushroom Kingdom, when a hand starts destroying, the kingdom... The four heroes of the prognosticus Mario, Luigi, Princess Peach, and Browser, gear up for the fight, but are beaten horrifically... They are picked up by the Hand, and are taken away. In another cutscene, Zelda was enjoying a nice concert from Link, as he was playing his ocornia, He stopped midway as screams were heard from over the horizon. Horrified, Zelda switches into Sheik, and the duo ran to where the screaming was heard. Burnt bodies, rubble remained of the village. The Hand is scanning, for something, but what is it? The Hand stops in its tracks, as it comes upon the duo. Link raises his sword, and Sheik is in fighting position, but alas, it wasn't enough.. They are taken away as well..Marth, as well as Ike, were taken away...Olimar and the Pikmin..Captain Falcon, Ness, Lucas, Ganondalf... Olimar was enjoying a day in the field, getting ready to call it a day.

He went into his ship, but it never returned to the sky. Ness and Lucas were being adventurous, searching the town, but they never came home. Ganondalf was inprisoned, but was set free.. but he wasn't free for longKirby was being himself, having fun and whatnot, but the fun didn't last. Sonic was saving more animals, cursing Eggman for putting him through this everyday, but he never finished the level. Ash was going through another battle, Pikachu resting on the sidelines, but In a flash, The Gym was gone.32 of them woke up in a white room, ails and bruises gone. Puzzled, yet dazed, they closed their eyes once again. A booming voice startles them in their sleep.''I am Taboo, wake my children!'' His ''children'' woke to find a beautiful creature, no eyes, comprised of technical things. He looked like a hologram, yet his voice was very real. Taboo continued to speak. ''My children, you are my warriors, and you need to be stronger.. There are great enemies, some strangers, some you already know, some who were your friends. When you wake once again you won't remember anything accept to fight. That is what you do now, fight.'' The voice faded away as they were put in dreamland..

The voice broke the forth wall, and told me. ''As you watch this, you ponder, is this how my life is?'' I was astonished, My life is by the government. The government, controls my life. I work, I pay my taxes, I sleep, eat, play. But what for? I pay my government to give me money, and yet there is no reward for living..the voice interrupts my thoughts. ''Fret not there's more you need to see..''These children train and train, having no reason to. Everday for three years they train. Just to be puppets, for us. Everynight for three years, they sleep, with nightmares, motivating them to fight, to win...

They just want to go home, but they've got to keep going to go home.. Everyone knows the big finale, , when Five heroes defeat Taboo, right? Well, all of those characters are then cloned, all of his Taboo's children, while the real contestants, they go home, and live their life..Except their memories get erased. All their memories of three years, gone vanished, poof! And then the new contestants are picked...Mario has been through this Three times, and he goes again.. To stay strong like that is truly an honor. While everyone is cheering when a new character is announced, a contestant, is taken from their home, forced to fight in this game...

The voice speaks up once again. ''The game is life in your situation, and you must rise up against it! Make yourself the hero.. You shouldn't be a pawn in your life, you should be a king! Make due for these unlucky clones, the contestants, and yourself.. make me proud..''The voice disappears as I find artillery to my left. Guns, Knives, all for me...I feel if I don't fight the voice will get mad, and I don't want that...Please, I beg you, join my side, and we will beat back our cruel masters, and then it can be happy again... join me, my warrior Princes, and Princesses... join me.

The cage

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Wed, 16 Jul 2014 06:46:00 +0000

I was just getting done with my shift at around 6:30pm at the summer boys camp. The forecast called for rain and by looking at the sky that forecast would soon come true, so I made my way to my old rusty ford pinto as I put the key in the ignition it took 5 or 6 tries to get it to turn over. I was just 40 min outside of the city when the rain hit like wall, my car started to slowly decelerate as I notice my check engine light was on "you gotta be f@$&ing kidding me!". I looked to see if there are any incoming cars to help but in the distance I saw an old rundown house but it wasn't abandoned there was a light on inside, so I quickly grabbed my umbrella wedged in the bottom of my seat and make my way to the front door.

I knock 3 times, the door slowly opens with an eerie squeak you only hear in the movies to reveal an elderly man who could well be in his late hundreds a beard down to his stomach whiter then mountain snow and bald scalp.

"May I help you" he asked
"Yes my car broke down just down the road, would I be able to make a call?"
The old mans face was blank
"Sorry son,no phone here"
"Well may I stay until the rain stops?"
"Sure you can !"

The old man seemed delighted as if I was the first person he's seen in 10 years. He gave me a tour of his house but oddly enough kind of like the tardis it was crappy on the outside but beautiful on the inside. I noticed a door he seemed to miss as we walked by I asked "what is in here"
The old man turned around with lightning speed as if he was 20 again

"Do not touch what's in there!" He slammed the door that was not even an inch open and pulled a key from the wall and locked the door.

"I'm sorry"

Well finally sat down in the dinning room and the man grabbed me a soda. As we were talking waiting for the rain to stop the old man slowly began to drift off as I was telling him about my job. After he was asleep I got very curious I wan to know what's in that room, so I slowly get up and make my way to the locked door I grab the key off the wall I slowly start to unlock the door but as I open the door I hear in the back of my mind "don't touch what's in there". I open the door to find a stairwell leading to a basement I start making my way down the old creaky stairs surprised they can hold my weight. I look over to see in the corner of the room a 20x15ft steel cage but that's not what shocked me what shocked me was the 750lbs silver back gorilla sitting favoring the wall 4 ft in front of the cage door I slowly approach the cage and again in my mind I hear "don't touch what's down there" but all I can think about is why is this animal here. I try to make the gorilla move so I say "hey!" But no response it was as if it was a realistic statue I went to the side of the cage to get a view of its face and it just had a blank stare not even a blink.i noticed another key on the wall by the cage so I took the key I slowly opened the cage door and reached ever so slightly towards the gorilla my pointer finger just barely grazed it's fur when the gorilla erupted with a loud yell I feel back and ran up the stairs and bolted out of the house.

Surprisingly through all the noise the old man was fast asleep. I looked back to see the gorilla burst through the front door, he was locked on me like a heat seeking missile I made it to my car and prayed it would start but the key would not turn over. The gorilla ripped the passenger side door off as if if were opening a can of tuna, I quickly got into the fetal position as I was cry praying and begging not to be ripped apart the gorilla slowly reached in with its massive hands and poked me on the shoulder and said "you're it !" In a raspy voice.

He came for her

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 07:20:00 +0000

My grandmother developed a mental disease, alzihmer's. I was her caretaker as we were just too broke to send her to a nursing home.
About 6 months into her progression the disease had taken a lot of her memory and most of her ability to hold a normal conversation without trailing off to other ramblings. Most of it was senseless, until she started "seeing" a man.

You see she had gotten to where she'd wander all night and barely sleep during the day, screaming out in pain in her sleep or randomly at all hours but at night it was the worst. I'd gotten to where I'd have to bath her and change her bedding for her incontinent spells. During one of her baths is when it first occurred. My bedroom door was open and with the bathroom door open too you could see straight into my room.
As I helped her dress her blue clouded eyes starred wildly into my room over my shoulder, "GET OUT OF THERE! WHO ARE YOU!?"
Startled I looked behind me and saw nothing, "granny, who are you talking to?"
She just looked at me and back to my room and back to me replying "there was a man in your room."
I shook it off and took her to bed, it was around 8pm and I was wore out. My mom came home shortly before 9 and we decided to turn in early. That night I awoke to floors squeaking, I sat up and glanced around, my room lit a little by the nightlight for granny down the hall. Deciding it was nothing I went back to sleep, awaking to screaming right next to my bed minutes later, "WHO ARE YOU! GET OUT OF HERE! LEAVE!" I fell out of my bed yelling for mom who came barreling in flipping on the light.
My grandmother stood there next to my bed with a wild and terrified look. "what the fuck is going on in here?!" My mom asked.
Granny proceed to tell her that there was a man in my room just as she had told me earlier. We calmed her and put her back to bed. These nights happened for 2 months straight and at times she would just stand over my bed. Terrified at what danger I could be in (since her mind had now regressed enough that she even started to forget who I was) we put padlocks on the doors for at night.
She started screaming in her room that a man was there and we had grown accustom to it by then, knowing there was no one there. A couple of months before she passed away, she was no longer able to get up or eat or anything by herself. I awoke one night to her giggling, and talking to someone. I got up and unlocked my door, cautiously going into her room (knives had been missing and other dangerous objects)
"granny?"
"The man...." She paused.
"There is no man..." I was exhausted and sad to see her like this.
"It's my daddy.. He said he's here to take me home." Her words caused chills to run up my spine.
"Granny, where is he?" I waited for her.
Pointing to the corner of her room at a rocker that had been her mothers, "there."
"Ok" I began to cry as I went back to my room and locked it, even though she couldn't get up we never knew since we had never been around this disease before. I cried as she giggled and talked the night away to "daddy".
Mom and me chose not to discuss this new habit, but I knew she had heard it all from her room. I'd hear her cry some nights asking god why. Granny continued to talk to "daddy" even though we never saw him. She went to the hospital the night she passed away for she had fallen trying to get up. They were keeping her overnight.
As I was getting ready to leave, mom had already left, "I love you" I told her.
She started at the other side of the bed, "my love, my Charles. And daddy, momma, Molly, Jim, your here." She said to the empty side of the bed. She turned to me, "their taking me home tonight." She smiled with tears in her blue eyes. She patted my hand and said "love that little boy".
"What little boy"? I was confused. She didn't reply but just turned and smiled at the empty side. I left. That morning around 4am she passed away.
Jim and Molly were her siblings that had passed away long ago, Charles was her husband, my grandfather that I never met because he had died before my mom was even old enough to speak. And that little boy? A month later I found out I was pregnant, and in 9 months I gave birth to a baby boy, who was taken from us 3 days later. I was 19 years old.

The Small Town

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 07:17:00 +0000

The following is a transcript of four newspaper clippings pertaining to an incident that happened in September 1974, made digital for the sake of preservation. More information about the incident is also included. The reporters who made these articles decline interview. All facts are presented as such, but what they imply is open to interpretation.

…
Baker City HeraldTuesday, September 10th
Mysterious Death in Local Town
Artford, Oregon is a small, unassuming town, northeast of Baker City. It is rarely visited by tourists and is home to less than 500 people. However, it has become more noteworthy when a dead body was found yesterday. Found sitting on a park bench was the body of local teenager, fourteen year old Ella Douglass, determined to be dead for twelve hours by the time she was found, many of which were likely spent on the bench. That she wasn’t noticed for several hours is evidently due to her lack of apparent damage. According to the coroner, there is no sign in the corpse of poison, stabbing, heart attack, strangulation, disease, choking, or significant blood loss. Ironically, the only obvious damage was that she was dead. It is also reported by many eyewitnesses that the corpse had a slight smile as it was carried away. There are no clues or leads to who is responsible, but an investigation has begun by local authorities.
…
The case of the death of Ella Douglass remains unsolved to this day. A formal investigation of the matter was never instigated by the FBI, possibly due to later events in the area.
…
Baker City Herald
Wednesday, September 11th
Five Fires Last Night in Artford From approximately 6:30 PM to 2:15 AM, five fires occurred in the town of Artford, Oregon. According to the fire department, these fires happened in succession throughout this seven hour period, one usually starting as another was being put out. First to burn was a house, and then a gas station, a convenience store, another house, and lastly the tool shed at the local cemetery, all catching fire within hours of each other. There were no serious injuries or deaths, and there was also very little damage to the buildings, “suspiciously low collateral damage”, as one firefighter puts it. While they all can be explained by normal events (gas leaks, trash fires, electrical fires, etc.), the timing of the fires suggests foul play.
…
Analysis of the location and timing of the fires has revealed a remarkable discovery. The first fire was in the southern point of the town, the second in the northeastern area, the third in the west, fourth in the east, and last in the northwest. When mapped out, these fires form the vertices of a nearly perfect pentagon, or, as some suggest, a pentagram. While it is unknown if the authorities were aware of it at the time, this credits the suspicion of foul play or arson.
…
Baker City Herald
A Vanishing Meteorite?
Thursday, September 12th Around 11 PM last night, there have been multiple reports in the area of a large object falling from the sky and landing in the increasingly interesting town of Artford, Oregon. While claims are inconsistent pertaining to the size, color, or speed of the object, the time and location of the impact is the same in all accounts. Oddly enough, upon investigation of the area, no sign of the impact was found. There were also no reports from Artford itself about the incident as it was happening. It has been suggested that the meteor was too small or light, but others disagree.
…
Nothing suspicious or out of place happened in Artford during the rest of that Thursday or most of the following Friday. On the night of Friday the 13th, 1974, the two roads leading in and out of Artford were closed down by federal mandate. There were few complaints from local residents about it. Despite months of thorough research, it is still unknown who ordered the roads to be blocked. What is known is that from 7:00 PM to 7:00 AM, not a single car entered or exited Artford, Oregon.
…
Baker City Herald
Local Town Vanishes
Sunday, September 15th Yesterday it was discovered that all of the residents of Artford have disappeared. There is no explanation, no leads, and no people who saw what happened. Local authorities as well as the FBI have been investigating since yesterday afternoon. A Baker City police officer got an anonymous phone call alerting them about the residents’ disappearance. One odd part about the incident is the aftermath of the town itself. The buildings, roads, and land of the area show no damage that would be caused by an earthquake, tornado, or storm. There is also no sign of a planned evacuation. All objects in houses and businesses are left exactly as they would be if somebody lived there. The town seems pristine, except for having no people. The only thing nearly as bad as the tragedy is the frustrating lack of evidence or answers. The authorities have made it their top priority to solve the mystery, and all we can do is hope that it is solved soon.
…
In hindsight the incident at Artford did not at all receive the media attention it warranted. It was covered by multiple newspapers and local news stations in the states of Oregon, Idaho, Washington, and California, but virtually no coverage in international news outlets. Some link this to some sort of conspiracy, but this has never been confirmed. The investigation continued for years, but no clues or answers were found and the case was abandoned in 1977. Today, this incident seems to have been swept under the rug, having next to no mention since the seventies. The vanished peoples’ whereabouts, or even whether the residents are dead or missing is not known, and the area remains uninhabited. The exact events of the disappearances remain unknown to this day.

Belief is the worse curse

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 07:13:00 +0000

An old tarnished round object was found by my friend tom, in his garden and on it had the words 'believe it is a curse' and my friend being one who is easily frightened, the round object gave him the Goosebumps. My other three friends would take the Mick out of him for being a 'wimp' and the teasing started and got kind of fun.

"Tom stop being a wimp" Danny told tom who isn't a big fan of horror
"Look I think we should put it back" tom declared actually believing it was a cursed round object, that was found in his garden.
"Tom it was probably done by some stupid kids years ago who wanted this sort of reaction" jake trying to relieve tom of his fears
"Lets see how much money we could make out of it?" jon wondered

Through out the whole day tom was kind of worried while me and my other three friends were relaxed. We were trying our best to calm down tom but he was actually sincerely upset, as if the round object had gotten to him but we all assumed he would get over it.

On Facebook he would come up on chat typing that the round object is moving and I tried to tell him to calm down and that he is taking it way too seriously than he should. He would type on facebook that he feels his life is threatened by this round object in his house, I advised him to destroy it with a hammer. There was a moment gap of emptiness on Facebook chat with me and tom and I told the other three guys that tom has gone a little overboard with this curse thing. They then felt a little bad for making fun out of tom, then as tom came back on facebook chat, he was typing really fast that he has now angered the round spherical object.

'I made it angry by hitting it with a hammer!! it wants revenge'
'what should I do mike?? Please help'

Tom typing on facebook chat to me and asking for my help, I told tom to get some rest and stop thinking about this round object. He got off chat and I started talking on facebook chat with the other guys and jake felt awful bad about tom and wondered if he was being serious but we reassured him that tom will be fine.
The next day, tom was found dead with multiple knives all over his body. Tom's funeral was running high with emotions and what a coincidence all of this was, tom finding a round object with a 'curse on it' and now he is dead. Jake was definately effected by all of this and felt like he could have helped tom instead of just making fun out of him, he started to believe that the round object was cursed but me, Danny and jon tried reassuring him that all of this was a great unfortunate coincidence and that someone must have broken into his house.

Jake wasn't the same person anymore and when we tried explaining the whole coincidence with the cursed round object to the forensics team, they wanted to see it but we couldn't find it anymore. No one knew what sort of person would break into toms house and murder him, then on facebook chat a couple of months later jake comes on and tells me that he had taken the round object which is supposedly cursed. I told him that the forensic team wanted to have it for examination but with his finger prints all over it now, it is pretty useless.

'there is something about this object, I believe it is cursed' jake typed to me on Facebook chat
'how many times have we told you, its just coincidence' I replied
Jake left Facebook chat and I told jon and Danny that jake may need some help and some time time to recover. Jon and Danny were really concerned for jake and that we should take away the round object just to be on the safe side. I reassured both of them that jake will be fine after a couple of months and that the round object is just a round object.

The next day though jake was found murdered by strangulation and mutilation, we all couldn't believe it. I was still 100 percent sure though that this was just another freaky accident, jon and Danny how ever fully believed now that the round spherical object was truly and utterly cursed. The funeral for jake was depressing and made us all feel lousy and stupid as none of us really knew what is really going on.

On Facebook, jon and Danny were partially blaming me for jakes death but I tried defending myself saying that it was a freak out of this world coincidence and that no one could have foreseen this. Jon and Danny were sort of against me and they told me, that they had taken the round cursed object out of jakes house. I questioned them that if they had thought that the round object is cursed then why had they taken the cursed object? But they both replied to me on facebook chat saying 'we both believe mike, we both believe now that it cursed' and they went off Facebook.

In that moment when both of them sent me the same facebook message over chat at the same time, I got really scared and worried as if I was starting to believe that this round object was actually cursed. It wasn't that it was actually cursed but that the belief that it is cursed, was what was actually passing around like a virus to each of us from tom to now eventually me. Belief is the worst curse, when you believe something terrible will happen it changes your whole perception of life and you get paranoid.

The next day, Danny and jon disappeared and nobody knew where they were. While everyone was trying to search for them, I swear I could hear the round object speaking to me saying "you believe in me and your belief gives me strength and makes me real" and I don't what took over me but I took it home from jons house and where Danny stayed over as well and it started talking to me, saying that it lives off its victims belief and I don't have the ability to stop believing in it, as the round object cut off my ability to stop believing in it.

Please help.

It Comes At Night

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Tue, 15 Jul 2014 07:10:00 +0000

It waits until you've settled into bed, until all the lights are off and it's dark enough outside that your eyes can't quite adjust all the way. You'll know It's close when you start to feel that very first twinge of indecision: do you face outward to look into the empty room, in order to see what's coming? Or do you remain as you are, facing the wall, so that you don't have to witness It? At this point, It's still biding Its time in the very furthest corner, where the deepest shadows hang heavily over It like a cloak. It is patient; It's learned how to play the waiting game after centuries of practice. When It moves - and It will move - It does so with careful precision.

A chill creeps up your spine, vertebra by vertebra, excruciatingly slow; your hairs rise to follow. You'll shut your eyes, then, determined to ignore the growing feeling of dread. You're not a child anymore, and only children are afraid of what hides in the night. But your self-assurance won't last. The anxiety - the fear - of what may (or may not) be approaching your bed now will tighten on your lungs like a vise. It's only when you're nearly deafened by the cottony whooshing of blood pulsing in your ears, only then will It speak. Its voice is soft and inviting. Otherworldly. It speaks with the voices of the hundreds of people that It's visited before you, woven into one velvety cadence, Its words so low that you won't quite be able to make them out. They play at the edge of your subconscious, nagging gently. You could roll over now, but it wouldn't matter: It's gotten very good at hiding.

In the morning when you wake, you'll feel ever-so-slightly off. Maybe a slight pressure behind your eyes, or a warmth in your veins that you've never noticed before. The next night, the same - indecision, fear, anxiety. That low, velvet-smooth voice has moved closer to your ear. The feeling of unease that follows subsequent mornings after Its nightly visits will grow. You'll begin to realize that you feel uncomfortable in your own skin. It may visit you for a week, or a month, or a year; however long it takes. It's had centuries of practice, and even those with the strongest will can only fight for so long. But you don't need to worry: It won't hurt you. It has never hurt anyone It's visited. That's what you're for.

It visited my father when I was very young. My father was weak, It didn't need long. My father killed my mother. The police found him in the bathtub wrapping himself in her large intestine. It's been visiting me, too. I hit the neighbor's kid with my car on the way to work this morning. They let him skateboard up and down the block all day and the sound of wheels on pavement was grating on my nerves. He wasn't wearing a helmet but it's hard to see his blood against the black of my car. The pressure behind my eyes is nearly unbearable. But it's okay. It'll come back tonight. It'll tell me what to do.

Then It will find another.

by averyvyse

Car ritual

noreply@blogger.com (Dota Soul) — Mon, 14 Jul 2014 20:23:00 +0000

My father always kept an old mysterious car in his garage, he never let me look inside it as it had black tinted windows all over. As a child my father use to go down to the garage and he always looked at it for a couple of minutes then he would turn away. I had imagined this strange car to be my first car but my father always replied that I should get another car as a first car instead of that old junk that we keep in the garage.

I always wondered why my father always kept it in the garage, more like imprisoned it. I imagined my father doing a few races in that old car and maybe its his memory of his youth. Other questions came to my mind like, selling the car or breaking it down or something similar like that. I really wanted to drive it and test it out, I knew I would get into trouble but the thrill of driving a car would just be awesome; is what my intentions and thoughts were like, at the time.

When I was 18 years old, I stole the keys from my father for the garage and I unlocked the garage. I searched for the car keys for this old car and when I found it, I was over the moon. When I finally for the first time saw what the insides were like in this car; there were 3 strange component's about this car. The first strange thing was the gear box in this car didn't have numbers but weird letters I had never seen before, the second strange thing abut this car; was that there were no clutch or brake pedal to step on with your feet and the third strange thing, was that there was no measurement for fuel or anything or something to tell you how fast you were going behind the steering wheel.

I put the key in and closed the door, I could see outside through the tinted windows but people would not be able to see me. The car started driving by itself and I wasn't doing anything, but it wasn't driving so fast, I had no idea what to do but may be just ride it out.

Then behind the steering wheel a sentence had formed and it had said 'press which ever symbol we tell you to press and I will take you to your destiny' and I was just so amazed by what I was seeing. When I would see a symbol alphabet come up behind the steering wheel, I would make the stick on the gear box move towards that direction of the alphabet. It had finally been an hour and I had been moving the gear box stick to each of the weird symbol's in weird order, that had appeared behind the steering wheel.

I had no idea where it was taking me but whatever my destiny was I hope it was good, I then started getting a little scared until my father phoned me and I had told him at what I had done and what is happening right now being in this car. My father screamed at me and he said he will come and get me.

I tried jumping out of the car as it was driving slow and as I jumped out all I could see was fields and fields and nothing more. The car stopped as if it knee I had jumped out, but then a man in a black old suit standing right behind me was telling me to "get back in it is too late to turn back" and I tried questioning this stranger that appeared out of no where, as what is going on? But he would always tell me the same thing and tell me to get back into my car and that my destiny is waiting for me.

I tried talking to this for about half an hour just to waste time and just when my patience ran out and was about to get back into the car again, my father speeding with his truck comes in and stops me. My father starts talking to this strange man quietly and then my father comes up to me and says that he will replace me and he will drive the car and that I should drive the truck home and my father gave me the directions back home from where I was, I knew how to drive already so it was no problem. My father seemed to recognise this place and the man in the old black suit, my father hugs me and I watch him drive off in that old junk weird of a car and then that strange man disappears as I take my eyes off him because of watching my father drive off to his destiny.

From that point I had never seen my father ever again, as I get home in my fathers truck and I tell the police about my father, they couldn't find him anywhere. Then 3 months after my fathers disappearance, I check out my fathers garage and there was that old junk of a car but minus my father. I wondered to myself how it came back? I sometimes stare at it and wonder as well as deeply regret.

by ullahshy