Creepypasta

Update from Creepypasta

2013-01-16T11:57:00.001-08:00

Hello my fellow warped individuals!

Today seemed like a good day to let you all know how Creepypasta.co.uk is doing, and to enlighten you to the hopeful plans and ideas for the future.

Firstly, thanks to all of our readers both new and old. I never thought that this website would ever reach this many people and it is a huge honor to have visitors continuously coming back and catching up on the new creepypasta.

Facts

Here are some figures to show how far things have progressed from the early days as a barely noticed blog. To begin with, the website was not even on google, and had barely 100 views per week, now look at it:

The Facebook page now has 55 likes
As of right now, the total pageviews for the main website lies at 235,030, just short of 1/4 of a million!
Nearly every day there are now over 1000 pageviews, occasionally dropping down to the 800 level

To sum up my views on these numbers, bloody brilliant!

Goals for the future

Post more regular updates.

This responsibility lies with me alone, to scour the internet for the most popular and warped Creepypasta it has to offer, and ensure that they are posted here for you all to read.

Post brand new unique Creepypasta.

This is where I need some help from you, please send in your own personal Creepypasta that you have written to share with the world. Over the past two months we are receiving more and more fan sent submissions which otherwise would not have achieved the audience and praise that they deserve, some of the best Creepypasta online has been sent in to us by readers and we want more. You can contact us at our sexy google mail address of submitcreepypasta@googlemail.com. So please, show us how warped you can be.

95% of all Creepypasta sent is now online, never before has a creepypasta been turned down outright. Perhaps some editing might be needed for some submissions, in which case it will either be returned, or depending on how nice I feel, will be edited personally before being published.

Find new types of Creepypasta.

This stems from an idea sent in by a reader, Cooperwithacamera, of new ways for people to get Creepypasta inside their minds. For all of his submissions, The Only, Interference, and The Bum's Countdown, he has also linked to us YouTube readings of each story (which can be found at the end of each creepypasta). This is a great way for people to experience reading a creepypasta, only with added music and sound effects.

New ideas such as this are very interesting, and so while I will be doing my best to find them myself, this again comes as a request to you, the producers of these fucked up tales. If you have a story to tell that is not in written form, be it a YouTube video, a sound recording, or a hamster powered psychic dream, contact us and we will do our damn best to get it out there to the world.

Get more Links of Interest

While Creepypasta.co.uk has been going for some time now, there is still only two links of interest (and one of them is 4chan!) If you have a website related to creepypasta that you think should be shown off to the world, and you in turn are willing to place a link back to us on your website. Contact us!

Final Word

Thanks for all of the support over the past 2 years, and hopefully we will continue keeping you awake at night for many years to come.

The Train Man

2012-12-15T15:25:00.000-08:00

I opened the front door of the old house where I grew up and felt the odd aroma of dust rush into my nose. The first step I take makes a rickety board beneath me creak eerily. I make my way towards the stairs and begin to walk up them. The entire house was only a shell of the once lively abode that previously stood, only a distant memory of good times and bad, only a reminder to me of the Train Man.

One day when I was just a boy and I still lived in the old house, me and my brother decided to investigate a tree house that my mother had briefly mentioned that our uncle had built out in the woods. I entered the woods that day not knowing what I would find, or who I would see.

We roamed an old trail for close to and hour before the surroundings around us became greatly unfamiliar. I knew not to panic so not to frighten my younger brother. I quickly began to assess the situation. All around us tall trees stood, peaking through the clouds and faintly touching heaven. Out of the corner of my eye I see a wooden building in the trees and without acknowledging my brother I began to walk towards it.

There sat the tree house in the forest, high in the sky ever so powerful. We climbed the ladder on the tree and entered the tree house. Inside on the walls were posters that told stories of my uncle's past, the ground, full of toys of a childhood. On a desk inside, sat magazines and books almost falling apart from age. I notice one of the books was a private notebook left behind my my uncle. Everything in here was full of wonder and me and my brother thought of this place out very own sanctuary, our very own Mount Olympus.

Our immersion ended as quickly as it began with my mother's voice beckoning through the trees, for us to return home. Me and my brother slowly left the place where my uncle's childhood lives and I allowed my younger sibling to race ahead of me home. As I slowly walked towards the back of my house the faint crushing of leaves behind me startled me beyond comprehension.

I spun around swiftly to see only the trees and the cold dead ground. I shot my eyes all around the area and saw nothing until I looked back up at my uncle's tree house. In the small window hole I saw a glimpse of a man more than three times my age staring down at me hauntingly.

Dark,dead black eyes, wild hair held only back by a train conductor's hat, and dark green disgusting teeth, that slowly grew into an grisly smile. The Train Man's grin threw me backwards and tripped me on a tree root. I could barely climb the tree back onto my feet to sprint back towards my house, not even daring to look back at the demon that lived in my uncle's past.

Later at my house I hugged my mother harder and with more fear in me than ever before, and when I told her about the Train Man she got angry with me and told me never to bring him up again. I stood shocked that she would ignore my childhood fear so evilly, and do little to console me on the traumatic experience that I was just dealt. My brother looked at me like I was crazy and did not believe me when I told him a man was in our uncle's tree house.

I was worried that I had not really seen the Train Man, that I did not really see a figure ominously smiling at me from an old tree house. I was worried that I was crazy, but even more so that he was going to get me. While fear blocked most of all the thought in my mind about the Train Man, curiosity also lurked within me. I wondered if my uncle knew about the Train Man, if my mother secretly knew about the Train Man. I had no proof of his existence, but maybe something in the tree house could help me in discovering more about him.

It took almost two weeks for me to even pull together enough courage to even step foot into the deep and mysterious woods behind my house, but when I did an invisible force made me continue onward towards the tree house. I had no memory of how to get to there, but somehow I found my way through the shadows of the trees. I stood under the tree house and it looked down on me like a powerful demon, ready to strike my well being at any moment.

I cautiously climbed the ladder with my eyes closed tight, with my hands gripping the old wood for dear life. As soon as my head breached the floor's entry-hole my eyes opened and the world I had entered once before made itself aware to me.

My first instinct was to go to the desk and open my uncle's private notebook. I pulled open to a random page and saw writings my uncle had made. They explained things he did and saw, dreams he had and wanted, and told a tale of an experience not so different from my own. My uncle wrote that he and his friend Toby saw a homeless man sitting on the railroad tracks in the road, drinking beer and rambling to himself. They stared at him curiously and laughed when he began to doze off. When he saw them, he got aggressive, and threw his bottle at them. They sprinted away back into the forest and went back to the safety of my uncle's house.

My uncle called him the Train Man, which is where I first thought to call him that. A simple name, I thought, for a man so eerily frightening. At the time I had no proof that the man my uncle saw was the man that I saw in the tree house, but I knew that he was in fact, the Train Man. While reading the notebook I heard a raspy cough and distorted laugh beneath the tree house. My heart began to beat faster than a butterflies wings and inside my chest a warm fear started to spread.

I did not dare to go towards the exit hole and started to look for something in terms of protection. I looked in a box beneath the desk and found a small pocket knife and pulled in out fast. As soon as I got the knife out in a protective position, years of rust forced the blade to fall off the handle and slide through the cracks in the floor.

After a moment had passed a loud and evil cackle shot at me and the sounds of crumpled leaves started towards the ladder. I could nothing else besides get in a corner and pretend to look dead. I didn't know what to do, what he was going to do to me or what my fate would be once the Train Man had me. I pulled myself into a small ball and began to sob deeply. Maybe he wont hurt me cause I'm only a kid I thought, Maybe he'll show some mercy.

I heard the creaks of each board being stepped on and the excited and worn breathing of the Train Man slowly coming towards me. The Train Man got up through the floor and stood. My eyes were so tight that I couldn't see anything, but I could feel his presence as if it was my own. I felt his feet step on the ground fiercely towards me, and could smell his disgusting dank aroma. I pictured him holding a bottle of beer, wearing his old hat, cloaking himself in an old train conductor's uniform, all while his deep marble black eyes stared at me, and his terrifying smile showed the dark green teeth siting on his jaws.

The Train Man grabbed my neck from the back of my neck and held me up like a prize. He gripped my throat hard and stopped me from breathing. He pulled my face level with his own and croaked, LOOK AT ME BOY, I AM THE TRAIN MAN! He bellowed this again, and again, until I finally sprung my eyes open and stared into his dead black marbles.

KNOW ME, FEAR ME, AND ALWAYS REMEMBER ME! The Train Man's voice transferred onto my face like a blanket of musk and forced me to cough fearfully. WHO AM I?? The Train Man said this with the look of absolute hate in his eyes, with the face of death, claiming another soul. WHO.... AM... I???? ANSWER ME NOW, BOY! I slowly told him what he wanted to hear, what I dreaded having to say, the Train Man...

The Train Man's evil grin returned and he dropped me to the floor with a thud. I began to cry deeply and shut my eyes again. Above me the Train Man's deep laugh rocked my head into a daze, and I began to drift off into a sleep.

When I woke up it was dark, and the only light was from the moon, gleaming softly out the window through the trees. I stood up and walked over to the desk to retrieve my uncle's notebook. As I walked home, I could constantly hear the rustling of leaves, and the sounds of loud footsteps, but none of this would scare me. Nothing could ever be more frightening than looking into the large deep, dark lifeless black eyes of the Train Man.

At that moment I promised to myself to never return to the Tree House, to never again open my uncle's notebook. I took the notebook and I hid it under a floorboard in my attic, and made sure nobody would ever find it again.

That day was a long time ago, more than 20 years.

Now I stand in the hallway of the house where I grew up looking at the door to the room where I slept. I made sure not to stay here long, to only do what I had to do then leave. Looking up from the hall I see the small cord that connects to the attic door and I pull it, and almost like magic a staircase appears from the ceiling. I climb up the stairs and walk towards the spot where I hid the notebook under the floorboard.

After pulling off the board and digging my hand through the darkness, I pull out my uncle's notebook. I glance out the window and see the sun faintly setting through the trees. I don't have much time... I thought, and opened to the first page of the book.

Nothing concerning the Train Man was here, or on the next page, or the next. I keep flipping through the book until I get to a part where a picture is drawn. It's the Train Man, sitting against a tree drinking and holding a knife. Behind the tree a pair of small legs are jutting out, and a pool of blood is beginning to form from them.

The page after the picture is something my uncle wrote, a story about him and my mother walking through the woods with a friend of theirs.

The other day, when me and Michelle were walking down to the lake, this boy named Jared asked us if we wanted to see something cool. Michelle was kinda nervous about it but I told her it would be fine and we walked with Jared to the railroad tracks that entered the forest. We walked along it for a few minutes before Jared told us to go this way, and he made us go into this one part of the woods. I started to get a little scared when he said this, but I didn't want Jared to think I was a baby so I went along with him. After a minute Jared told us to be quiet, and showed us this small wooden house on the ground. We slowly creeped over to it and Jared told us to look into the a small window on the outside of it. Inside on a small dirty mattress was the Train Man that me and Toby saw before, drinking on the railroad tracks. I don't know why but this scared me and I almost started to cry. Jared then pulled out a match book and lit one, then tossed it into the window. Jared told us to run over and wait behind a tree. We did, and after a moment smoke began to come out through the windows. Jared could not stop laughing, and Michelle started to cry. I didn't know what to do so I just started to grab Michelle's arm and slowly back away. Suddenly, the Train Man ran out of his hut with a knife in his hand and started to look around. Jared's laughing and Michelle's crying gave us away immediately, and he ran over to us. Me and Michelle ran away, but Jared just stood there laughing. Michelle ran away to the train tracks, but I stayed and watched. The Train Man grabbed Jared by the throat and slammed him hard against a tree. Jared's feet were kicking but he did not scream, I could not see his face but I assumed he was as scared as I was, The Train Man then rummaged through Jared's pockets and pulled out the match book, and crumpled it in his hands. The Train Man, still holding Jared by the throat, carried him over to the burning hut and tossed him inside. The Train Man, wielding his knife, then went inside after him. When I saw this I ran away back towards the train tracks and Michelle.

After reading this I realized that the Train Man used to be just a homeless man, living in the forest, but during my childhood became something spirit-like, and more evil than before. Through the book there were multiple tales of encounters with him, written by both my mother and my uncle. My mother had known about the Train Man, I thought. I flipped to the very last written page in the notebook and found something my mother had written. It was written very sloppily and was almost illegible.

Adam is dead, THE TRAIN MAN KILLED HIM, we went back to see what happened to Jared and we saw the Train Man's dead body in the ash of his hut and HE CAME BACK TO LIFE. He got up from the ground and killed him with his knife. I couldn't do anything, he was so big! I'm telling mom and everyone that he drowned in the lake and the river took him away. Nobody would ever believe me! I'm writing this so somebody knows, so somebody wont get killed by the Train Man!

I close the notebook and stand up. It's dark now, the moon is out and full, and the heavy night is making itself very aware to me. I leave the house and head towards the woods, where the Train Man lives.

Even though it's been over 20 years, I know how to get to the Tree House just as easily as I know how to get to work. I walked over every branch, every pile of leaves without problem, and slowly the building at the top of the trees becomes present.

What had once looked like Mount Olympus now looked like the fires of Hades, and without hesitation I climbed the ladder up the tree. I sat the notebook on the ground and got out my lighter. I looked around the tree house and saw in the corner, an empty bottle of beer.

Behind me, the all too familiar sounds of the Train Man's laughter filled me with an ancient dread. I turn around and there he stands, the same dirty train conductor's outfit, the same old hat barely holding back the agelessly unkept hair, and the same evil smirk, shining brightly beneath those two pitch black eyes.

I quickly rush to the floor where the notebook lay and retrieve it. The Train Man pulls out his knife from his overalls and puts it in a slashing position. I take the notebook and turn the lighter on beneath it. This does little to slow the Train Man down, and he slices my left arm, making me drop the notebook to the floor, and making me fall backwards.

The Train Man's foot comes crashing down on my face and I think my nose breaks. I can feel warm blood flowing from it and then see his foot come down again. I'm in a great daze at this moment, but still sober enough to see the notebook over in the corner, and feel the lighter being gripped tightly within my fist. I turn over to my stomach and start to crawl over towards it.

I get up off the ground but am suddenly stopped my the Train Man's blade piercing my side. I can't decide what hurts my more, my arm, my nose, or my side, but I don't try to think about any of that, and keep making my way towards the notebook. The Train Man begins to laugh loudly at me and then bellows, YOU CAN'T KILL THE TRAIN MAN BOY! NO ONE CAN KILL THE TRAIN MAN!

I ignore this and keep on towards the book. Just barely within my reach, I grab it and begin to burn a corner with my lighter. After a second it catches flame, and a small fire starts to grow from it. I turn around from the ground to look up at the Train Man, and to my eery delight, the Train Man's uniform begins to catch ember.

The Train Man's face had lost it's smile, and his dead eyes grew to have more life than ever before. I take the lighter and start to burn another corner, and suddenly the Train Man's face started to burn, and some of his skin started to peel off. The Train Man stumbled backwards into the corner and just as the fires of the notebook grew into the center of it, a hot fire engulfed the Train Man. The Train Man burned fierce fully before my eyes, but I couldn't believe that this would kill him.

From the ground I slowly stand up and grab the knife from the Train Man's hand and I stab him in the heart. The knife stays in his chest and the fire inside of him turns the Train Man's eyes to a dark blood red. And right before the Train Man turned to ash, he looks at me, and smiles.

I leave the tree house and walk towards my old house without looking back, without being afraid of him coming back. Back at the house I get into my car and sit before I drive away from my old house, before I leave a collection of childhoods, and I say goodbye to the Train Man.

The Patron Saint of the Good-Looking Corpse

2012-12-15T15:18:00.002-08:00

"Come in friend and take a seat. My name? Call me Jack....I run this establishment. I've been working this bar for the better part of a hundred years. Got a nice stage, we got entertainment later if you're sticking around?"

"Uh-huh. Well do you have time for a drink? Okay. What was that? The hundred years thing ? Yeah, friend, I'm a little older than I look. I'm a demon"

"I can tell from your expression that you've never bumped into one of us before. We do exist. I guarantee that by the end of this conversation, I'll have swung your opinion. Don't worry, I'm not a threat. Hardly good for business."

"And my business is important to me. On that stage you'll see some of the best talent in the biz. I consider myself a 'talent scout' without equal."

"I specialise in contracts for fame and fortune. I can give the lucky individual ten years of their dreams and then I come to collect. In return they play at my club for the rest of eternity. They almost never think twice. One catch, though. I can only make this deal with them whilst they are 17."

" I don't know why, I don't make the rules."

"Who do I have? You probably know a few of them. The first guy I signed was something really special. Created an entire genre by himself. Kid by the name of Robert, a real demon on the guitar, if you'll pardon the pun. It seems everyone and his brother knew about our deal, though. "

"Yeah, the crossroads thing. Well, it did make subject easier when I was talking to later pitches. Thing with Robert is he wasn't ready to give it up when I came to collect, so I had to grease the wheels, so to speak. Strychine poisoning can be incredibly painful, or so I hear."

"This is the thing. They are happy for the trade at 17, but the moment they hit 27 it starts to consume them. it becomes all they can think about. Some will use it to drive them to write as much as they can. Others will try and use the as many distractions as possible to not think about it"

"You know, drugs, alcohol, women. The good things in life. Need a refill there, champ?"

"This one guy, Kurt, now he surprised me. He worked out how to summon me, against my will I might add. Yanked me right into his goddamned front-room. Just as I'm about to give the shaggy haired fool a piece of my mind, he pulls out a shotgun and says that he is breaking the deal"

"Blew his brains out right in front of me. I mean, come on?! The deals are binding. Killing yourself just gets you here faster. I'm a freaking demon. My kind invented fine print."

"Another cat I should mention is Jimi. He was a rare one I tell you. The kid was tripping so hard when he got here, it took us a week to convince him he was dead. All he cared about was as long as he had a guitar to play. Now he plays every Friday night, packs the place out everytime"

"What?"

"Come on, I've worked hard for them, and now they work hard for me. "

"This bar is something I take pride in. I have some of the best entertainment in the world, and here I showcase it to any who know how to get here."

"You don't remember how you got here. Yeah, i've been meaning to talk to you about that. Something tells me you've got a little more free time than you realise."

"Fancy another drink?"

Submitted by: The Silicon Lemming

Childhood… Ah!! Not that!

2012-12-15T15:11:00.001-08:00

I must inform you all that this is A TRUE STORY. During my childhood, I constantly had nightmares in our old apartment. This wasn’t erratic, it was CONSTANT. Every night I had one. It wasn’t one always, sometimes I had five! Well anyway, let’s commence.

The first one was usually of my family, walking to a log cabin near a hill covered with dead grass, and to the right of the cabin there was a dead forest. By the time that we were at the cabin, I was going up the hill. Then, I was faced with giant balls of sticks that came rolling down. As if the forest itself was reaching for me.

Every time they squished me, I suddenly saw a thumb bending back and forth. Then I woke up, unless I had the other two nightmares. Sometimes I got up to the top and found a dispenser-like machine and a guy there, but before I could do anything I was off to the next nightmare. This was the least scary one.

The next nightmare started to show up when we were about to move. This was a time when I was outright scared of lawn mowers. I thought they were going to eat me up or something. So the dream that I had was of me running down a sidewalk with a lawn mower chasing me. To you it might seem idiotic, but that scared the shit out of me.

The next one was usual. It was of me in my parent’s room (Since I sleep there) but in front of the nightstand. All of the color seemed drained around me. I saw myself crunched up like a little ball. I don’t remember exactly what was going to happen, but I know it was going to be bad. Now that I’m typing this I remember another detail: the view was warping and twisting. I believe this was the scariest.

These are all I remember, but I know there were others. They were, as all of these, scary as hell when I was a kid. Of course, I was like three years old so I can’t remember exactly why. After we moved to our new and current house, the nightmares seemed to vanish. The first night, I slept soundly. Later, a few years back, I we were going somewhere when we passed by near our apartment. I was intrigued by my
discovery: there was a cemetery on the other side of the street! So, were these ghosts
haunting me in my sleep? If so, why? Perhaps we’ll never know…

ALONE.EXE

2012-12-15T15:01:00.003-08:00

It was around February last year I was bored on the weekend and decided to quickly check my Hotmail , as I scrolled through the large amounts of spam emails one stood out. It was in bold and the subject read SORRY THIS FREAKED ME OUT! What really confused me is that it was sent to me by my friend Max; we had an argument a few days ago and hadn’t spoken in around a month this email had been sent yesterday.

Suspecting he had been trying to give me a virus I ignored the email and went to watch a few videos, I was watching a few videos and began to watch some creepypasta related videos, when I had a sudden urge to read the email.

When I opened the email it contained a link to a website which has since been taken down and SORRY in bold letters, after a few seconds of consulting between clicking on the link or just deleting it I stupidly decided to click on the link.

The website opened and my monitor flashed black and white very fast for around five seconds, then suddenly returning to my desktop. A downloader had launched for a program called AREYOUALONE.EXE, I could not cancel it and could not open task manager to end the program.

After it finished I was forced to click finish and the application launched in full screen and began to play a video , in this video a man was tied to a chair and crying out in pain. I quickly tried to exit the program but couldn’t, I then turned off my monitor but it turned straight back on. The man tied to the chair was now being approached by a man with a mangled face; his jaw appeared to be broken and slanted to the right, he had only one eye and had long black hair down to his shoulders. The man then crouched down and picked up a butchers knife, he stood up and ran toward the bound man and violently began to hack at his face. I had to hold back my vomit.

The video cut to what appeared to be life footage; it was outside my house I quickly ran towards my window but saw nothing outside my window as I went to walk back to my computer I heard the noise of smashing glass down stairs and looked at the computer swiftly. The man had entered my house and was making his way up the stairs, as he reached around halfway he pointed the camera towards his disgusting face and screamed in a horrifyingly deep and strange voice “YOUR ALL ALONE”. As he said this my monitor switched off and my computer shutdown.

I heard the man walking towards my bedroom door his footsteps were loud and heavy, he then began to cry out in what I can only explain as a demonic tone. It was barely understandable but I could make out “ALONE” followed by an evil laugh. The door then swung open and closed behind him, there he stood towering over me, and as I looked up at him I was frozen in fear. I was able to let out a loud scream just before he grabbed me by the neck. What I didn’t know is that my neighbour had called the police around five minutes ago when he saw the man breaking my window; just as I began to fade into darkness I heard the sound of police sirens.

I woke up in my room just as the police kicked in the door, they ran straight over to me as I lay on the floor. I was in extreme shock and couldn’t answer any of their questions, because of this I was rushed to my local hospital to be examined. Luckily, I was okay.

The psychopaths body was found twelve hours later....he had hung himself in a nearby wood.

The Bum's Countdown

2012-12-15T14:57:00.000-08:00

There's a strange phenomenon I've noticed on several television reports from the early 1960's onwards. There may be more before, but since I got my first television in 1962, I can't say for sure. I would like to post this here to ask if anybody else has noticed, or seen any others. It started in the early 1960s. Specifically, the Kennedy assassination.

I was watching a broadcast by ABC of his final precession, and whilst the reporter was talking to the camera, amongst the crowd, I noticed something quite odd. A very scruffily dressed man standing quite a distance behind the reporter was staring right into the camera. He wore the typical attire of a homeless person. Dirty brown trench coat, a dark green woolen hat, and noticeably long facial hair.

This wasn't what creeped me out however.

There was a massive amount of people around, and I just assumed this homeless man was here to watch the parade. The fact he was staring dead on at the camera motionless was quite off-putting though. A little while into the report, he finally moved. He raised his arm in front of himself, and put his hand up, giving the number "5" with his digits. A few seconds after he did this, there was a loud bang, and a massive commotion in the crowd. The man stayed absolutely still, with his hand still outstretched, but the reporter and camera man moved to get a better look at what had happened, and the man was no longer in shot.

Kennedy had been killed.

Some years went by, and along the way, I seemed to forget about the strange homeless man from the Kennedy report. That was, until 1980. I had returned from work, and was absolutely shattered. My wife was laying out our evening meal, and I was just catching up on current events on TV. I changed to a particularly interesting report about a heat wave that was currently affecting some of the states down South. This concerned me, as my wife has relatives there, and I feared for their wellbeing.

The news reporter was billing this as "The worst American heat-wave in decades." At that point, I noticed him again. In the distance, over the reporter's left shoulder, was the homeless man from the Kennedy report. I didn't notice him at first, and it was his initial movement that drew my eyes to him. As the reporter spoke, the homeless man lifted his hand once again, and signaled the number "4" with his fingers. I was more alarmed at the fact that the man seemed exactly the same as when I had spotted him in the Kennedy report almost 20 years before. He was dressed the same, still wearing his trenchcoat, despite the reporter claiming that the heat was unbearable. He himself had removed his suit jacket, and had rolled his shirt sleeves up.

That man has made a couple more appearances in news reports that I know of. One in 2001, during a report of the terrorist attacks on the World Trade Centres, where he held up 3 fingers, and more recently during reports of the devastation Hurricane Sandy caused in New York, where he held up 2 fingers. Each time, in all 4 of these news reports, he has been dressed exactly the same, and shows absolutely no emotion. The people around him seem to pay no mind to him, and each time he just stares directly into the camera lens, until the report ends, or the cameraman moves the camera away from him. I have wrote this because of his appearance in the Sandy reports. It is now 2012, and I know for a fact that DVD recording and such have become a lot more common. I have never owned a recording device myself, and so I haven't been able to capture the man in any reports. Other people may have though, so I urge you to flick back through any recordings of the news reports you may have, and try and screengrab an image of the man if possible, so that we may identify him, and find out exactly why he is showing up at these events.

Right now I am very scared though. And I think it's plausible that you all should be too. It's obvious at this point, that this man does not age, and appears in news reports of disasters- both natural and man-made. Not to mention, with the exception of the Kennedy assassination, many people have been injured and killed in said disasters, and it's getting worse. It's also obvious that this man is counting down to something in each one of the reports he has appeared in.

And worryingly, he's down to number 1.

Author: Cooperwithacamera

Youtube version:

The Only

2012-12-15T14:54:00.002-08:00

I’d like to take this opportunity to talk to you- the person reading this exact writing. There’s something special about you. Something that makes you very different to every other creature on this planet. Every other being on this planet knows what you are- but we are sworn to secrecy. Made to swear on our great ancestors names that we would never reveal the truth to you. Until now.

For many years, the entire world has watched you mature, and grow. And I’ve so wanted to tell you that this is all a lie. You walk among us, believing us to be just like you. This is a fabrication. I can tell you quite categorically right now, that you are the only human being on this planet. In fact, you are the only human being in existence.

Years ago, our people ventured to a planet in a far off galaxy known as Earth. We hoped to arrive from the skies, bringing with us things that no human could have ever even dreamed of. It would have been a fantastic accomplishment, to be able to partner with the people of Earth, and form a relationship strong enough to span even the stars. However, when we sent our Prophet to begin the proceedings, we were horrified to find that he was treated with hostility. He was sacrificed by your people, who were so primitive that they believed his claims and abilities to be that of witchcraft and deception.

After the passing of our prophet, it was agreed by our planets finest minds, that Earth would be destroyed, along with the human race for the betterment of the entire Universe. It was so. Earth was obliterated on that day, and each and every human being was destroyed with it. All except for one. You.

You see, despite the way things may seem from what I have told you, our people are quite kindly. In the end, we did not want to be responsible for the destruction of an entire race. And so we took a small child, and placed it under the care of two mates on our planet. These mates would be what you consider to be “parents.” They raised you in a style that was traditional on our planet shortly before Earth was destroyed. They raised you to be considerate, and civilized, unlike your human brethren.

We decided to study you. We wished to see how you adapt under certain circumstances. This is why we may make things happen in your life that affect you emotionally. We study sadness, happiness, fear, pleasure, pain and other emotions. Just know that this is all controlled. We created the concept of “Religion” to see whether or not you would accept the possibility of a divine creation. We created a police system, to instil a sense of fear and punishment inside of you, and most importantly, we created an entire network of “friends,” “family,” and other loved ones for you- all in the name of study.

Alas, I have already said too much. Just know these things young one. The language you speak is not your own, this culture is ours- not yours, you are the only Human being that walks this planet, and Earth has been gone for a very long time.

I advise you to carry on with your daily life- for your own good.

Author: Cooperwithacamera

YouTube version:

The Under

2012-12-15T14:52:00.000-08:00

Okay... erm... I don't usually do this, but I guess I probably should just in case they ask for further evidence or something. My name is Graham Luciani. I'm 28 years old, living alone in my childhood home. I inherited it several years ago after both my mom and dad passed away. Separately of course. My mother died first, and a couple of years later, my father died and left the place to me. It can sometimes be quite difficult living there. I'm the youngest of 8 children, so you can imagine how big the house would have had to have been to accommodate that many people.

The loneliness is sometimes maddening, and it doesn't help that my employment consists of me sat alone in a room inputting numbers into a computer. No human interaction there either. When I inherited the house, it wasn't in a particularly liveable condition. I don't know how my parents had managed it. Windows were boarded up, the garden was overgrown, and the houses interior was just dusty and dirty from neglect.

After about a week or so, I managed to get the place looking pretty decent, but after a while, the massive size of the house just proved to be way too much for me to handle and care-take. I decided that rather than selling up and moving out, I should convert the house into 2 smaller attached houses and rent one of them out. I wouldn't have to clean as much, and I would be able to collect rent money from whoever moved in. The renovations would pay for themselves in no time that way. It sounded ideal.

In the town where I live, before making any major modifications to your lot however (having a pool fitted, demolition, building expansion etc.) , you have to first visit the City Hall, discuss your plans, and ask for permission. Most of the time it's pretty straight forward and simple. Apparently, my case wasn't though. I visited City Hall after making an appointment with a Mr. Alan Carter, who was the acting Lot Development Supervisor at the time. I took a seat in his office, and after I discussed my idea to develop my house into 2 attached houses, he used his intercom to ask for someone to collect the blueprints to my house from the records room so I could clearly explain exactly what I was talking about, and what I planned to do. After a couple of minutes of small-talk, a rather attractive young lady entered the room carrying a rolled up piece of A3 paper. She handed it to Mr. Carter, and after a smile at me, she left and didn't return.

Everything was going fine, until Mr. Carter showed me the blueprints. I didn't even see it at first, but after a little while, I noticed that there seemed to be a door leading to a small room with a set of stairs in what was at the time- my kitchen. I pointed it out to Carter, and he gave me an odd look. "Mr. Luciani, this appears to be a basement staircase." I was astounded. I had lived in this house for almost 20 years altogether (born, left home and returned again) and I had never once known about any basement. I asked Alan Carter if I could take the blueprints home with me to investigate the new-found area, but he refused, stating that he couldn't let me leave the building with the original. He did however give me a copy.

When I returned home that night, I made myself a cup of coffee, grabbed a flash-light and took a look around my kitchen around the area where the supposed door was. Mom and Dad had wallpapered the kitchen many years ago, and since it was in such good condition still, I hadn't stripped it during my first decorating session. It was an ugly yellow floral pattern thing, and now that I was up close, running my fingers along it to find any sign of an indentation, I kinda wished I had torn it down before. After a little while of fumbling around with the wallpaper, I did indeed find a small area that seemed uneven. Now relatively excited to find out what was in this new room, I took a kitchen knife off the sink drainer, and hacked away at the area of wallpaper.

After some tearing and cutting, I eventually tore most of it off, revealing a door. I tore the rest off. The door was made of a relatively sturdy looking wood, and had no handle. Instead, it had an indent which allowed me to open the door in a sliding motion, similar to how an automatic door opens in supermarkets. The door opened into a cold emptiness. Judging by where this door was, the room was under my first set of stairs. I used the flash-light to look around. There wasn't really anything interesting about this room. Or at least, there wasn't anything to indicate any reason why it would be wallpapered up. There was a strange smell of dirt and earth, and it was at that point I realised, my parents must have known about this place, as they were the ones that had decorated the house before I was born. With the flash-light in one hand, and the kitchen knife in the other, I entered the room. Sure enough, there was the set of stairs. It led into what seemed like an endless, deep black abyss.

I wondered if I should turn around and go back, but the idea of having this mysterious strange area open to me while I would be fast asleep just upstairs was kinda creepy, and I just wanted to check it out before I did anything else. I went down the stairs. My footsteps were incredibly loud against the wooden stairs, and as I went further and further into the abyss, the air became more bone-chillingly cold, and the smell of earth became stronger. Eventually I reached the bottom, and discovered that I was now standing not on wood, or carpet, or what you'd expect in a basement, but mud. The flash-light revealed that I was now stood in a massively long corridor. Cautiously, I began to walk down it.

Eventually, I came across a room to my left, which was separated from the corridor by a thin, decaying curtain. I entered, and was horrified by what I saw. Inside the room, I found what appeared to be decaying human corpses. Each was completely torn apart, and left in an uneven pile. There had been a relatively mild earth smell up until now, but as I entered the room, the stench of meat had hit me. I immediately felt sick, and had to step out of the room for a minute to gather my senses. I panicked.

I was about to head back upstairs to call for the police, when curiosity got the better of me. I stepped back into the room, and took a better look around with the flash-light, while using my shirt to cover my nose from the stench. Inside the room were many strange items I didn't expect to see, given the circumstances. There was a small, broken radio on a shelf, several small teddy bears strewn across the floor, and a rocking horse, which had been completely destroyed. Worryingly, I also saw a single bed. Had some kind of sick murderer been living beneath me this whole time? I caught sight of a small, worn book which was lying open on the shelf next to the radio, and I grabbed it and got the hell out of there. The police could check where else the corridor led. I wanted to get the fuck out of there before whatever got those people came back.

As I came through the sliding door, I tossed the book I found onto the kitchen worktop, and closed the door. I was absolutely terrified that whatever had killed all of those people would come back and somehow see that I had been there and come up after me. There was no way for me to block the door however, and so I decided to grab my cell-phone, call the police and sit across from the door with the kitchen knife. The police told me they would arrive as soon as an officer was free. I sat at my kitchen table opposite the new-found door, and tightened my grip on the knife. Eventually, after a couple of minutes, I realised just how filthy my hands and clothes were from being down there, and got up to just quickly rinse my hands under the tap. However, I caught sight of the book I had brought up. I picked it up and took a closer look at it. It was made of worn leather, and looked well used. It was also incredibly thick. I opened it, and immediately confusion set in.

There were strange childlike pictures drawn of a weird looking creature, and scribbling that I didn't understand. It appeared to be a diary because there were dates on every page, and it seemed to be a diary specifically for 1978. Throughout the diary, the pictures of this strange creature, along with two other scribbles that looked vaguely human was a recurring theme, and occasionally, I saw the word "dUG" scrawled the pages. I was in the middle of trying to discipher one of these pages, when there was a stern knock at my front door. I got up, still clutching the kitchen knife and answered it. It was the Police finally.

They searched the house, and took me away to the Police Station. One of my worries was that they would think I had committed some kind of sick series of murders, but the police were actually quite open minded, and once I showed them the diary, they asked to keep it for investigation. Of course I let them. I was sent to a police half-way house until my home had been investigated, and when they called me into the Police station about 3 days later, they had some news for me. A rather chubby, yet stern looking cop (Officer... Beeves?... Reeves? I think?) informed me that the corridor beneath my house led to a small electrical shed quite a way away from my house, that had been forcefully smashed open- from the inside a few years ago and hadn't been repaired.

He told me that someone had indeed been living in that room under my house, and after doing some DNA analysis of the hairs they found on the bed in the room, they discovered it to be a very similar match to mine. They also found that whoever had been living under me this whole time had been partially devouring the corpses in the room. He also told me that they had checked the previous medical records of myself, my siblings and my parents, and had discovered that my mother had in fact given birth to 9 children, the eldest of which was born in 1972, and had been diagnosed with an unknown illness which caused it to have several horrific mutations.

I was presented with a birth certificate of the said child also, and when I saw the name on it, it suddenly hit home, and my knees went weak.

Born 29th May 1972- DOUGLAS LUCIANI

I am the youngest of 9 children.

Watch Your Step

2012-12-02T13:52:00.000-08:00

Jessa is all alone. She sits in her room, waiting. Waiting for them to come back.

Her parents went out tonight after hearing the news that her big brother, Daniel, was involved in an accident.

The last time Jessa saw Daniel, he had sped off on his motorcycle, mad at their parents.

Then it rained. It rained so hard.

They were so worried about him.

But now all of their fears came to life. They received a call from the police saying Daniel’s motorcycle crashed.

So their parents went for him.

And she was left alone.

She had been waiting for too long. It’s already 2:00 AM, but she still hasn’t heard from them.

She waits.

2:30.

Every second makes her heart beat faster.

The doorbell rings.

They’re back!

She rushes down the stairs, falls, but she doesn’t feel the pain. She opens the door eagerly.

At the foot of the door, Daniel and her parents stands wet and cold in front of her.

“M-mom? Dad? Daniel? W-what happened?” she says, but they just stand there, cold and unmoving.

“Danny? What happened to you? Are you alright?”

“Yes, little sister, I’m alright,” says Daniel. His voice has changed. It became deeper, colder.

“Mom, Dad, where did you find him?” Jessa asks.

“He was lying on the pavement,” her father replies. His voice has changed too.

“D-dad? M-mom? You seem off…”

“No, baby, we just came to get you. For our family to be together again. You’ve been waiting for us, right?”

“W-what are you talking about?”

Their television suddenly turns on.

The news reporter begins. “Another accident happened tonight. A couple, Harry and Christine Robertson, died in a car crash. The victims have been identified as the parents of another victim of a traffic accident, Daniel Robertson. They were…”

Jessa stumbles back in disbelief. “Mom, Dad, y-you’re dead? But I don’t wanna die yet!” she cries.

“Honey, we wouldn’t take you if you weren’t dead,” her mother points her finger to the stairs.

Jessa follows to where she points.

She sees her lifeless body at the foot of the stairs. Her head was cracked open and bleeding.

“How many times have I told you,” says her mom. “To watch your step!”

Slender man

2012-09-19T21:20:00.001-07:00

Slender Man Facts

The Slender Man is an alleged paranormal figure purported to have been in existence for centuries, covering a large geographic area. Believers in the Slender Man tie his appearances in with many other legends around the world, including; Fear Dubh (or, The Dark Man) in Scotland, the Dutch Takkenmann (Branch Man), and the German legend of Der Großmann or Der Grosse Mann (the Tall Man).

Slender Man Appearance

The Slender Man is a being male in appearance who looks like a man with extremely long, slender arms and legs. He also appears to have 4 to 8 long, black tentacles that protrude from his back, though different photographs and enthusiasts disagree on this fact, and therefore it is theorized he can 'contract' these tentacles at will.

He is described as wearing a black suit strikingly similar to the visage of the notorious Men In Black, and as the name suggests, appears very thin and able to stretch his limbs and torso to inhuman lengths in order to induce fear and ensnare his prey. Once his arms are outstretched, his victims are put into something of a hypnotized state, where they are utterly helpless to stop themselves from walking into them.

Whether the Slender Man absorbs, kills, or merely takes his victims to an undisclosed location or dimension is also unknown as there are never any bodies or evidence left behind in his wake to deduce a definite conclusion.

His face is pale and slightly ghostly, and almost appears to have been wrapped in a type of gauze or cloth. his facial features are also an object of debate, and many people believe that his face looks different to each person, if it is seen at all. He sometimes is portrayed wears a hat, which is sometimes a bowler, a fedora, or sometimes a tophat. He may also be seen wearing a long flowing necktie or scarf, which is either red or grey. He often keeps his long, pale hands crossed politely behind his back or hanging loosely at his sides. He has long coattails which he lets flow proudly. He wears long dress shoes, which are always shined a perfect, gleaming black.

Slender Man Behavior

Much of the fascination with Slender Man is rooted in the overall aura of mystery that he is wrapped in. Despite the fact that it is rumored he kills children almost exclusively, it is difficult to say whether or not his only objective is slaughter.

Often times it is either reported or recorded that he can be found in sections of woods, and these generally tend to be suburban. He also has been reported seen with large groups of children, as many photographs portray. It is commonly thought that he resides in woods and forests and preys on children. He seems unconcerned with being exposed in the daylight or captured in photos.

It is often thought as well that he enjoys stalking people who become overly paranoid about his existence, purposefully giving them glimpses of himself in order to further frighten them. For this reason, it seems like Slenderman very much enjoys psychologically torturing his victims.

He also often appears to float or drift around rather than walk, which suggest the possibility of him being an ethereal being rather than a creature or a man. This would also explain why he is able to remain mobile in spite of his poorly proportioned body.

Even though Slender Man was fabricated on SomethingAwful forums (or was he?), some people have already claimed sightings. He is seen mostly at night peering into open windows and walks out in front of lone motorists on secluded roads. His main intentions appear to be kidnapping children, as when he is seen near them in photographs, they usually disappear shortly afterwards.

Slender Man. The Video Game

A Slenderman video game has recently been released titled, Slender: The Eight Pages. The download link for the Slender Man video game can be found here.

Rain Boy

2012-09-19T21:02:00.001-07:00

Dubbed the Rain Boy in 1983, Donnie Decker was visiting his friend’s house when he abruptly went into a trance-like state. Immediately after, the ceiling began to drip water and a mist filled the room. His friends immediately called on the landlord who was alarmed by what he was seeing. Some time later, Donnie was at a restaurant with other companions when rain started pouring down their heads. The restaurant owner immediately forced him out. Years later, due to a petty crime, Donnie was put into jail where he caused chaos when rain started to pour down in his cell. After angry inmates complained, Donnie explained that he could make it rain when he wanted to, and proved his point by dumping rain on the jailor on duty. Eventually, he was released from jail and found a job as a cook at a local restaurant. His present whereabouts is unknown – as is the cause of the mysterious rain.

Real Life Pokemon Adventure

2012-09-19T20:58:00.001-07:00

There was once a very small, quiet rural village. It was so small there was only one main road leading out of it, along which visitors often travelled to and from the village. However, there was one important rule the townsfolk held about this road: never go it alone.

This was strictly enforced by the villagers, but one curious young boy from the village decided to break this rule; he set out one day, when no one else was round, to explore the road alone.

As he approached the trail for the first time, he realized there was something very odd about it. Although he knew there were always people coming into town, the road itself looked like it had hardly been used.

Grass and weeds had grown across the whole path, and it was so poorly maintained that they reached all the way up to his waist, making it difficult to walk quickly. However, this did not deter the boy.

Determined to make his trip worthwhile, he pushed on into the overgrowth, looking back over his shoulder occasionally to make sure no one was watching. He moved quickly, hoping to get out of sight by any passers-by.

However, the boy's pace was cut suddenly short by the sound of something moving in the grass next to him. The boy's heart skipped a beat as he stopped in his tracks, looking and listening for the source of the disturbance.

The overgrowth was so thick he couldn't see anything, but he could hear the sound of something crawling in the grass near his feet. He could tell it wasn't very big, but something about it gave him a horrible feeling...the feeling of being hunted.

The boy was overcome by a growing sense of hopelessness as he realized he had travelled too far down the road to make it back before the creature reached him, and the grass made it hard for him to move quickly.
Suddenly, the boy sensed he was being watched. The creature had spotted him. From the corner of his eye he could make out a wide pair of eyes and long, sharp fangs fixated on him. The boy's heart was pounding as he turned to face it.

Suddenly, a hand gripped his arm. The boy jerked and looked, only to see the face of one of the elders of the village. "You fool! Don't you know better than to come here alone?" The man grabbed the boy and ran with him back to the village.

The boy's heart raced as he sensed the creature following him, but it never overtook them. They ran, gasping for breath, until they had escaped back into town.

After they caught their breath, the old man scolded the boy for ignoring the villagers' warnings. When he was done, he looked up and sighed. "I guess you're old enough. You deserve to know."

The man led the boy to his house. It was a very big house and, as they entered, the boy saw massive shelves filled with books about creatures he had only heard of in myths.

Mysterious men in lab coats sat around, studying them. The old man led the boy to a back room. He faced away, saying, "I'm going to tell you the truth about what you saw today..."

All of a sudden, the man turned to the boy, glaring at him, his piercing gaze freezing him in place. "But first, I'm going to ask you one question..."

"Are you a boy, or a girl?"

Interference

2012-09-19T20:47:00.000-07:00

If you visit the big library in the Nottingham City Centre, and check out their newspaper records, you will actually find information about the events detailed here. This story takes place around 15 or 16 years ago. I was just 7 years old, and my cousin Dale, was around 9, maybe 10. He was staying with me while his mother was away looking after a sick relative.

Since I was an only child, I didn't have many toys, and my Sega Genesis was busted, and so we didn't have much things to do that were entertaining.

Our days consisted of watching cartoons on our cable television, followed by Dale teling me scary ghost stories at it turned night-time. My mother, sympathysing with us, and wanting us to do something more active decided to purchase a pair of walkie talkies for us to play with. We had fun with them, journeying to a neighbouring Strelley Village, and hiding far apart in the woods, while the other person would try and find them by using the walkie talkie.

Since we were quite young however, we weren't allowed out of the house for very long, and so we had to be home by 5 P.M. We returned home later (about 6) and had our dinner. By this time it was around 7 P.M. We decided we would call it a night, and packed all of our toys away and got ready for bed. However, we didn't pack the walkie talkies away.

Dale was staying in the spare room, and I had my own room, and so we planned to talk to each other through the walkie talkies until we fell asleep. That's when we heard the thing that would change us forever. It was about 11 at night, and we had been telling ghost stories over the walkie talkies for hours. All of a sudden, whilst Dale was telling me a story about a monster that supposedly haunts the same woods we had been at earlier in the day, his voice was cut off, and replaced with the usual static noise the walkie talkies produced when the talker had accidently let go of the button used to speak. I waited for a few seconds for Dale to carry on speaking, when I heard a faint mumble coming from the small speaker.

"That's odd." I thought.

The speaker was still emitting static, but I could definately hear some kind of movement and speech. All of a sudden, the sound of crying could be heard through the static. This was very creepy to me, and so I dived out of my bed, and rushed to the room Dale was staying in. He was sat bolt upright in bed, also listening to his walkie talkie, which was emitting the same sounds, if not a second or so behind mine. The crying grew louder. "

What is that?" Dale asked. "I thought you were playing a prank."

When I told him I wasn't, his face dropped. He switched his off. The sound still emitted from the walkie talkie I was holding in my hand, making it impossible for my walkie talkie to be picking up sound from his. "This is creepy" said Dale.

The crying and mumbles through the static seemed to get slightly clearer, and louder. I switched mine off too and went back to bed. All kinds of ideas were flowing through my head. Perhaps I was picking up the sounds of the afterlife? Perhaps my walkie talkie were simply broken and producing weird sounds that just sounded like crying and mumbling? I tried not to think anything of it, and went to sleep.

I was awoken the next day by a massive bang which seemed to be coming from downstairs. It was around 6 in the morning, and I rushed downstairs to find my mother and cousin Dale looking out of the living room window at our neighbours house next door. A large Police van had pulled up outside, and our neighbour Jessie was being led outside by several officers. She was screaming profanities and insults, and even tried to run from the officers at one point before being pushed into the back of the van and handcuffed. We were shocked by what had happened, and generally confused.

Jessie had been a new neighbour, recently moving into the house next door with her baby after our old neighbour had died of old age. She had kept herself to herself, and as far as we had known she was very quiet, and didn't seem like the type of person that would be arrested for any reason. It wasn't until the next day when we recieved our daily newspaper that we found out what had happened.

Jessie had murdered her baby after apparently seeing horrible apparitions of an elderly person in her house that had tormented her for weeks and she had finally snapped and turned loopy. This wasn't the disturbing part though. The disturbing part was that fact that the baby monitor in the room the murder took place had been switched on during the murder.

My cousin and I heard everything.

Author: Cooperwithacamera

YouTube version:

Open Your Mind

2012-08-29T05:09:00.003-07:00

The Blood

2012-08-29T05:08:00.004-07:00

Unknown

2012-08-29T05:08:00.000-07:00

Visitor

2012-08-29T05:07:00.005-07:00

The Patient

2012-08-29T05:07:00.002-07:00

The Watchers

2012-08-29T05:06:00.004-07:00

The Face In The Middle Of Dark

2012-07-22T08:10:00.000-07:00

At the end of the 1980s, a horrible murder took place. It was worse than you can ever imagine. It was so gruesome that if you saw it, you would not be able to live anymore. But the reason for that isn't JUST because you can't live with the picture in your head, but also because it is cursed. But, allow me to describe the murder first: In the middle of the day, in a small village in Russia, laid a newly bought house. It was bought by a 29 year old lady named Amanda Branksnovitsch. The reason the house was sold was because the lady who lived there before had heard a weird creaking noise that made it impossible for her to sleep, but it was fixed shortly before Amanda moved in. But after the moving was finished, the creaking came back. She tried to find the creaking's source, but whenever she found what may've been the source of the sound, it disappeared. Five days later, she began to hear a knocking too. What is going on? She thought.

After a while she found out that the noise came from the biggest wall in the house, the one standing against the bathroom. She couldn't make sense of a damn thing. She looked into the bathroom, but all she saw were blue tiles of marble reflecting the lamp hanging from the ceiling. She looked all around, and after dusk she found a crack in the roof. She was so desperate to stop the noises that she ran down the stairs to the kitchen, got a roasting fork and spent 1 hour and 23 minutes to make a bigger hole in the crack. Then she ran outside into her giant treeless garden, got a stepladder and climbed into the ceiling. Inside, it was dark like in a black hole. She got to the wall where the creaking noise came from, but accidentally, she fell into the gap inside it. She was stuck, sat there horrified and wondered what she should do, stuck in the dark, empty, grim gap. She stared into the nothingness, but then she heard a weak, hoarse, whispering laugh about 5 inches from the back of her head. She barely managed to turn her head around, but she wished she never did that. It was a face in the middle of dark.

It was the face of a woman with red, blurry hair, unnaturally big psychotic eyes, her head tilted to the side and a mouth that was big and darker than the dark surrounding them. The lady had an old voice which said: "Set me free from the mad prisoners' prison! I am wrong person to live in eternal darkness!" That was enough. Amanda stood up as fast as she could, clung to the roof corner and tried to go up, but half way up she was stuck. She stayed there, and no matter what she did, she couldn`t get herself free. She was lost in the lonely void. The only thing she could do, was to cry. She cried for so long that the gap inside the wall was filled up with tears. She cried in many days without food or anything to drink. In the end she had cried so much that there wasn't any water left in her body. She dried up and died like someone sucked life energy out of her. But you may wonder what I am talking about, after all, this was about a murder, but that's what it was. A murder. Of the woman who had been trapped in the dark. She drowned in tears.

But, there is a curse too. And it goes as following:

If you live life in the same way as poor Amanda did,

you will after seconds, hours, days, months, or even

years, hear a weird creaking noise that will make it

impossible for you to sleep.

Username:666 Youtube Video

2012-05-03T16:59:00.001-07:00

Try it, if you dare.

SCP-087 and Game

2012-04-25T13:51:00.001-07:00

We've all read the SCP Foundation stories, if not, I suggest you check them out here but I will attempt to also post the best ones here also for your viewing pleasure.

One of the most popular of the SCP Foundation artifacts has now been turned into a game by fellow horror enthusiasts. The SCP artifact in question is SCP-087, otherwise known as "Stairs".

Item #: SCP-087
Object Class: Euclid
Special Containment Procedures: SCP-087 is located on the campus of [REDACTED]. The doorway leading to SCP-087 is constructed of reinforced steel with an electro-release lock mechanism. It has been disguised to resemble a janitorial closet consistent with the design of the building. The lock mechanism on the doorknob will not release unless ██ volts are applied in conjunction with counter-clockwise rotation of the key. The inside of the door is lined with 6 centimeters of industrial foam padding.
Due to the results of the final exploration (see Document 087-IV), no personnel are permitted access to SCP-087.
Description: SCP-087 is an unlit platform staircase. Stairs descend on a 38 degree angle for 13 steps before reaching a semicircular platform of approximately 3 meters in diameter. Descent direction rotates 180 degrees at each platform. The design of SCP-087 limits subjects to a visual range of approximately 1.5 flights. A light source is required for any subjects exploring SCP-087, as there are no lighting fixtures or windows present. Lighting sources brighter than 75 watts have shown to be ineffective, as SCP-087 seems to absorb excess light.
Subjects report and audio recordings confirm the sound of a crying, pleading child estimated to be located approximately 200 meters below the initial platform. However, any attempts to descend the staircase have failed to bring subjects closer to the source. The depth of descent calculated from Exploration IV, the longest exploration, is shown to be far beyond both the possible structure of both the building and geological surroundings. At this time, it is unknown if SCP-087 has an endpoint.

^{Figure B: SCP-087-1; Enhanced image from still taken from Exploration I. (See Figure A)}

SCP-087 has undergone four video recorded explorations by Class-D personnel. Each subject conducting an exploration has encountered SCP-087-1, which appears as face with no visible pupils, nostrils, or mouth. The nature of SCP-087-1 is entirely unclear, but it has been determined that it is not the source of the pleading. Subjects exhibit feelings of intense paranoia and fear when faced with SCP-087-1, but it is undetermined whether said feelings are abnormal or simply natural reactions. Addendum:
Over a period of 2 weeks following Exploration IV, several members of the staff and students from the [REDACTED] campus reported knocking at a variable rate of 1-2 seconds per knock coming from the interior of SCP-087. The door leading to SCP-087 has been fitted with 6 centimeter thick industrial padding. All reports of knocking have ceased.
Authorized personnel may refer to documents 087-I through 087-IV for transcripts of Explorations I - IV.

The download link for the SCP-087 game can be found here.

The Imagination of a Child

2012-04-25T12:57:00.000-07:00

Okay, first of all this is a true story. In fact, it’s not a story it’s a true series of events. A series of dreams I used to have, as a child. Every child has nightmares I know. But mine freaked the hell out of me and the friends I told. So much so its lead to me writing the story and sharing it with the world.

It began in which I dreamt that I awoke. I woke up in my room, only things seemed off as they often do in
dreams. Things wouldn't be in their right location and the colours seemed dingy and dark and it was deadly
silent... Then I would realise I was dreaming. Some of you may be aware of the term 'Lucid Dreaming' in which the dreamer becomes aware that they are in fact dreaming. But this was different. It was like my dream wanted me to be aware. I know that’s hard to understand, hell how can it want you to...? But I felt it, along with a fear that swept over me. And every time I had it I would sit in my bed afraid to move and stare at the stairs with my door open. I would always sleep with the door open due to this scary dream and this realism would follow me into my dream state. I would pinch my skin to see if it hurt and it never did so I knew I was dreaming. This happened many times, but it only got weirder and much worse as time went on.

One time I awoke. I weren’t sure if I was dreaming or awake and I was lying in my bed. Suddenly the stairs
made a creaking noise. I looked over and I stared intensely. There was the noise again. It was as though
someone was walking up the stairs. The top step was the only one that made any noise. I knew this as I often sneaked up and down them in the night, going to the toilet. I sat there in bed and stared at the step. It creaked again, I was looking at it and it did not move, yet it made the noise. I sat frozen in bed, eyes wide. It continued and it wouldn't stop. I turned over and tried to ignore it. But it just continued. I sat up and pinched my arm.It hurt. I was awake. This went on for half an hour or so. Then suddenly it stopped. So I got up, went to the bathroom and tested the step. It creaked just as it always did. It freaked the hell out of me and sleeping that night became very difficult. Luckily no other dreams followed that night.

However, it didn’t stop there on that night. I would continue to have this 'Lucid Dream' in which I woke in
my room. I was always afraid; there was something spooky about my house and my room. Those stairs were something I needed to get away from. I would wake, feel like I was dreaming, walk around maybe grab a book off my shelf to test the reality. If I read a title or page, looked away and looked back, the text would change if it was a dream. This was another trick I had figured during this stage to test if I was really awake. And often I wasn’t. And I would pinch my arm. Then once I realised it was a dream I would run. Not down the stairs though. I would run at my window and smash through it. There I would fall towards the street and wake, my heart pounding almost out of my chest from the experience.

But it got weirder still. Just like my dream wanted me to be aware of something. It seems it didn’t want me to escape. My lucid dream changed its plan. When I awoke in my bed in my room I would lay there, like I was half asleep. I would then consider if I was having the dreams, eyes shut still trying to sleep. And so I decided I would check. Only when I opened my eyes, and tried to raise myself up, I could not. I was stuck, paralysed in my bed. I could look around and see the dingy tint of my dream room. I tried to call for help. Maybe my parents would hear me calling from downstairs. Only when I tried to call it was just noise. A groan or mumble would be formed and the louder I tried, the more disturbing it would sound. It was just a horrible, inaudible groan. The fear in me rose further. When I would awake from these dreams I wouldn’t go straight back to sleep. I would lay there in bed, heart really going for it. I was scared to my core! I alerted my parents to this regular occurrence. Of course, they were just dreams. I was told nightmares can’t hurt you so to fear them was silly. Well my experiences didn’t seem too silly. It seemed very real, and I couldn’t test to see if they were or not.

What scared me most was that occasionally at a sleep over I had these dreams. My friends would witness
them and laugh at me, see it as humorous in a mean childish way. I would moan and mumble and almost
scream aloud in my sleep. I could see them watching and giggling at me. But my eyes were closed. At least
that’s what they said. But I could see them in the room watching and I could hear everything that they said.

Only I was paralysed and unable to move. My imagination must be good my parents and other adults told me and others mentioned it. But it didn’t make me feel any better.

One night one of the worst cases of it all occurred... one of the things that still haunts me to this day and
forced me to write this story. I was in my room and I awoke, I was paralysed and afraid. I tried to sit up but I couldn’t. I moaned and grumbled a scream. I wanted to get out of my bed, just get up and escape through my window. I pushed hard and tried to raise my body, and slowly, it rose. Only I was limp and almost paralysed. My vision was skewed to one side, like my neck was broke and my head was dangling. I stood and shouted aloud in an eerie mumbled screech. I hobbled over to the stairs. My walk was slow, as though I was not in control of my limbs. They seemed mangled and broken. I weren’t sure if I could reach the bottom of the stairs or not. I took my first step, tripped and tumbled down the stairs. I could hear every bang and feel every break. I lay at the bottom, a mess of broken bones and then I awoke!

I was back in my bed, heart drumming as always, and I sat there breathing heavily. Only something was off.
It seemed strange. My room had that dingy look to it once again, like the colour had been drained from the
scene. I raised my arm and pinched it with two fingers... nothing. Maybe I wasn't doing it hard enough. But no matter how hard I pinched it, it did not hurt.

I ran for the stairs. I shot down them so fast. The landing was in pure darkness. On the right, my parents room, on the left, the stairway that led to my living room. I could see a flicker of light emitting up those stairs that would lead down into my living room. I ran to them and paused at the top. The glow was from the TV screen, it was flashing light randomly as static bounced across the picture. And apart from that it was pitch black in the room. I didn’t dare head down the stairs, it seemed too freaky to even consider heading for it. Trying to get out of the front door, out of the house and escape what was in it was out of the question. My suspended reality of the dream world had kicked in slightly and it did not occur to me that those parents were dream parents who could not advise or help me in this cognitive work of horror. I ran into the room and it was dark. I scurried onto their bed. There were two bumps under the quilt where they lay. I nestled between them. I hoped for some comfort but I gained none. They were stiff, like manikins, and didn’t move as I nudged them. And before my attempts could continue, the door creaked open. I looked in horror as I waited for something to enter.

It was so dark in the room; it was hard to tell what was going on. But something was there. Like a shadow or a figure stood in the dark. And then it spoke. Its words were demonic and hard to understand. My memory of them is unclear but I remember the message it carried. It said it was invisible. And it laughed and mocked my fear, saying it was pointless to be scared now. It had friends that were there too. At the foot of the bed and it felt like they were children, ghost children. I couldn’t see them. I just felt it, like an idea or image that was persistent in my mind. He said hiding or running was futile and that I should go with him. I had to be shown, to see what he was trying to tell me. I'd had enough. I closed my eyes, slammed them shut. My parents words echoed in my mind, dreams can’t hurt you. Therefore if I couldn’t see what was happening and they couldn’t hurt me, what would I have to fear if I closed my eyes. I shut them. It went quite...dead silent.

I kept them shut. I couldn’t feel my body so I had no awareness of my hands or legs. I tried to raise them with my eyes shut but they seemed to be nonexistent. It stayed silent and foolishly I listened. Then there was a sound. It was faint at first, but just like the gentle twist of a volume knob, it rose up and became clear. It was a child. A crying baby and its cries were getting louder and louder. Not like it was getting nearer to me, just like a volume switch. It became intense and I wanted to peek from under my eyelids to catch a glimpse of what was there. Why was there a baby? Why was it crying?? I'll tell you now I didn’t look. I dared not. I just waited as the cries became louder and louder until....I awoke in my bed. And you bet your ass I pinched hard and clear on my arm this time. It hurt like hell, and I did it again to be sure. I stayed up all night that night. I put on a video and watched it till the sun rose. I never saw the figure in my dreams again.

In recent years of horror movie watching one thing stood out to me and always spooked me... it was the time which events occurred. When I placed that video in the VHS player I looked at the clock to know when my parents would wake and I could go down stairs. It was always around 3am.The dreams of being paralysed continued. Only sometimes I would get up and make it to the window. If I got through it I would be free and my lucid dream would allow me to make fun of the world outside of my home. If I could get out, it would be okay and my nightmare would become merely a playground until I woke. This would mean I would complain less to my parents of these fears and I would sleep easily at night.

But the dream would fight back. The breaking of the window would become difficult. It made it seem real and I would pinch to test and try and wake up. But the time wasted in the room was time in which it grew spookier. I wanted out. The darkness would flood in from the landing and my escape was outside that window. I ran at it till it broke and often in my waking hours I feared one day waking and running at it for real, hard and in fear to escape, without checking if it was a dream. As I grew older I feared the room less and escaped more and more. This meant that the nighttimes became less and less distressing.

Occasionally I would come home from school at the end of the day. I was older now, the dreams sacred me
less, but the images haunted me. I would be alone and I run to the bathroom to relieve myself. Now this may
not appear as scary as it was, but I assure you it scared the shit out of me in more ways than one. I would sit
to, you know, carry out my business. We didn’t have a lock and I would use a door wedge to secure the door if anyone were to arrive home and enter. At the very moment I begun on the toilet the door would move and it would bang. Be struck from the other side and the door wedge would slide slowly out from underneath the door. I was helpless, relieving myself on the loo. I couldn’t get up due to my business and it seemed stupid to do so. But it would continue. The door would be hit over and over. I would shout to see if anyone had arrived home. They hadn't, and I would watch to see what was going to render. Nothing did. The door would just remain open. And there would be me, literally plopping where I sat. I would finish and spend the rest of my time watching TV in the living room until my parents got home, scared out of my mind. And I swear, maybe it was in my head, I heard bumps from upstairs too.

Anyway, if you've been following this far, you may be looking for a conclusion to this little "bullshit tale". A
blowout finale that will surely conclude it all in some "insidious" style rip off. Well not quite. But you will get
your dessert.

I live in a small town and recently the newspaper articles of the past 100 years or so have been placed online
in an archive viewable to the public. My sister found quite an interest in reading these articles only to find
one quite chilling story of our house, one that brought back these memories tenfold and left me with many
sleepless nights thereafter. Even now, typing away at my computer I feel the chills. Luckily I no longer live
there or I'm sure something would come flying at me from the shelf above. Anyway she stumbled upon an
article dated "February 1972" and titled "Wife jumps to her death". It was a story that ran in the papers for
three weeks. A woman had jumped from the top floor of her home and after her husband had pursued her
with a make shift weapon. Inside the home were their three dead kids. The man later got drunk and ended his life in a nearby canal.

The thing that scared me to my very core was the details found in the following papers. The man had
systematically abused his wife and this had led her to kill their children. Once he discovered the bodies of
his children, he lost it entirely. In a rage, he searched for his wife. She hid in the bathroom with the door
locked. He continually beat on the door. The evidence shown was the bruises in the wood, and the bent lock mechanism. It appears he failed and took rest in the living room, where he made his weapon. A spear like object shaped from wood. She must have peered into the living room when he was mid construction. (The TV was reported by the neighbours to be very loud at the time of the incident and was stuck on static). From here she must have foreseen her fate and headed upwards for a chance to escape... the top room. Forensics and police determined a long drawn out period between when the bathroom incident occurred and when the final events unfolded. This was concluded from reports from neighbours and evidence from the scene.

She contemplated on the stairs what to do. Paralysed with fear, she waited on the bed. There she sat until
he ranted and raged up the stairs after her screaming "You ready to reap what you sow" and the profanities
which followed. In her final minutes she chose to end her own life. She threw herself through the window,
smashing it and falling 40ft to her death.

The similarities to this event and my dream are uncanny; the TV on static, the banging on the bathroom door,
the stairs creaking. It scares the hell out of me to think that was her deciding whether to jump to her death or
to face her husband and his rage. The banging on the bathroom door, which was him, trying to get in! What
scares me the most is being paralysed. Some mention a condition of 'Sleep Paralysis' in which the dreamer is
paralysed, either from a semi awoken state, or dreams where they lay awake but unable to move. In other
versions, a witch sits on the chest of the dreamer, leaving them unable to move. What scared me the most
out of this is the thought that my paralysed state was a result of her sitting on the bed, on me, waiting for
her husband. Finally she seeked the same freedom I did. To be free from that horrible house, free, out of that window. And the mangled broken me, may have been her. Her soul that wondered her death site still mangled and broken.

These events had unfolded there, and remained forgotten in the tales of the past. Until I as a child were shown them by an invisible dark shadow of a figure who could only laugh at the fear that dwelled within me. Much like those children in that room must have felt from there crazed mother.

I no longer have this dream and have never returned to the house. I've passed its location, but I have no desire to return. What helps me sleep is thinking that maybe it is a coincidence. It may have just been a series of dreams, horrible disturbing dreams which were spawned fresh from the over imaginative mind of a child. I just hope they don't resurrect in me once again. I can say that they were some of the scariest moments of my life.

Believe this story, or do not. It happened to me. Whatever it was that happened. I’ve heard ghosts contact you in your sleep. And children are more susceptible to these kinds of things. I’m undecided due to fear of it being real. I’d like to hear your views though.

Recieved in an e-mail from Stu B. Share your thoughts in the comments.

Spore - Pzzuu

2012-04-25T12:48:00.000-07:00

The game "spore creature creator" for PC was released in 2008, drawing attention to many EA fans.
Spore became a widely known game over the internet and by now, it was almost impossible to search youtube without seeing creations that people have made, noobish and professional.

The game allowed you to create animals and civilizations however you like, from three eyes to ten mouths, you could float through the sea as a cell or fly around in space. Then in 2009, an expansion pack was released, it's name being "Spore: galactic adventures" Yet again, the EA fans swarmed the shops, searching for it, walking home with this amazing game in their hands.

On wednesay 7th july 2010, it was posted on a private spore fanbase of a glitch, posted by the user "Pzzuu!". Pzzuu! claimed to have witnessed a glitch, unknown to even maxis, spore's developers.
The first time, Pzzuu had claimed to see a series of unknown creatures, the creator's name had been blanked out. All of these creatures took the form of a human, amost realistic. The first creature was nameless, the second creature had seven unknown characters for it's name.

In total, there were nine creations, all of which crashed when Pzzuu! attempted to open them.The creature editor opened up like normal, the creature appeared as a human, covered in red dots, upon entering the texture editor however would result in the crash. Pzzuu! also claimed that once the game closed, the game box would remain on the desktop, even after a restart. The icon at the top left of the box resembled a human head, covered yet again in red dots.

Pzuu! opened the game once more, the buttons on the menu all resembled the human head. Upon entering the sporepedia, one more spore creature was said to have appeared, it's name being "lybonrehc". It's model represented what looks like a city, filled with corpses, a hacked part. Playing the creature stage of the game, the ground was pure black with no water, yet straying out to low ground would result in a fish creature eating the player. Only, the creature's body was replaced with a line of red.

Pzzuu! had by now, quit the game all together, his final post on the spore fanbase was a line of continuous dots. He was never heard from since his final post, his profile had revealed that he was last online at wednesday 7th july, 12:57, before his last post, semingly impossible.

The day after, another player named "Vendersis" had reported the same glitch.The only difference was another creature in the sporepedia. A skull and crossbones icon was attatched to the creature's icon, indicating it was extinct, even outside of the creature stage. The creature's body resembled a black box, it's texture resembling 8-bit skeletons, mushed together. The most disturbing of it all, the creature's name was Pzzuu!

Nobody else recieved the glitch which was sooned named "Bloodspore"
Now it leaves the question...
Is Pzzuu! dead?

Created by Ryan

Pokemon Lavender Town Suicides

2011-12-07T11:53:00.000-08:00

When “Pokemon” was first released in Japan, there was an odd phenomenon between children ages 7-12, particularly in those using headphones to listen to the sound effects. Increase of nosebleeds, irritability, insomnia, and addiction to the game, playing for hours and hours on end and crying to the point of vomiting when the opportunity was taken away.

Roughly 70% of these cases ended in suicide.

In almost every case of the aforementioned symptoms, despite gameplay time recorded to the limit of the internal clock, the game had not progressed further than “Lavender Town”.

A closer analysis of the game revealed a tone in the audio of the music for “Lavender Town” at a pitch undetectable by fully developed human ear drums. Within weeks every unsold copy of the “first edition” the game were recalled silently and the game was re-released with re-mastered audio for “Lavender Town”.

The widely known version is said to be missing three extra tones, as well as the unique, binaural tone of the first edition, although this is unconfirmed due to the rarity of working first edition copies; in the known few that remain, the internal clock and ‘battery save’ have all timed out and ceased function, and in many cases the game will freeze upon entering any battle.

The details of the story began to be passed around in mid 1997, said to originate from http://www.cornus.lensig.net/index538a.html, a defunct URL without credibility.

YouTube embed is the widely known second edition version of the “Lavender Town” song, if you don’t remember how it sounds or never have known.

Listening to Lavendar Town theme song just now gave me the chills..