The Accident

Last month, something very strange happened. My four friends and I went to a local haunted area for a scare and to kill an evening. It was about 9:00 p.m., so it was as dark as it was going to get for the night. We were arriving at the spot when it started to get extremely foggy to the point where you could hardly see in front of you, definitely the scene for a scary evening.

We started to slow down to park, and I saw a look of terror on my friend’s face, a look of terror that no one can fake. He then said “accelerate” in a tone that both intrigued and terrified me at the same time. Without really thinking, I just sped up about ten miles per hour faster than I had been going, just assuming that the spot we were in scared him a bit.

As we went farther up the road, the restlessness that he felt only proceeded to get worse. At this point I just wanted to get out of where we were, as his fear was beginning to rub off on me. As I continued to pick up speed, I saw what had scared him so bad. I had only seen it for a split second before I heard the crunches and felt the car go over a bump that no one would want to acknowledge, but was impossible to ignore.

I panicked in a way that I never had before, and stopped the car with such force that we all jerked forward into what was in front of us. Ignoring the pain with adrenaline and shock, we got out to inspect what my fear and carelessness had done, and after seeing what was there, I wish I had kept driving. The “man” was lying in a pool of blood, his chest flattened from one line of wheels, and his feet flattened from the other line. It was a sight that I knew would stick in my mind as well as my friends’ for as long as we shall all live.

After the disgust and horror we all witnessed, I convinced everyone to get back into the car. Once we all got into the car, the weather had completely cleared as if a tension in the area had been relieved. I had no choice but to take all of my friends home with the scars that I knew would haunt them for the rest of their lives. On the way home, no one spoke of the gore that we had just witnessed, and I had no problem with that.

I felt like there had been a presence following us, but I just brushed it off as shock and went on with my driving. I dropped off all of my friends, making them promise that the event would never be spoken of to anyone. I then made my way to my house to cleanse my car of the horror that it had endured. I hosed my tires and bumper off, then went into the house to take a shower.

I still had the feeling of a presence, which had begun to give me a very unsettling feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I knew that it was just guilt. Guilt is the mind’s form of karmic retribution; no one can completely get away with something. I went to bed once I got out of the shower, hoping that I could sleep this terrible night from existence. It took about 2 hours for me to finally fall asleep, but that would be the worst mistake of my life.

I woke up about 3 hours later to the worst sight of my life. At the foot of my bed, I saw the face of my accident. Sitting no more than 2 feet away from me was the personification of fear. His body was mangled. His chest was flattened along with the lower half of his legs. He sensed my being awake through my fear, and turned to look at me. He had no eyes, but the sockets showed all of the pain and anger that he felt. This was coupled, however, with a sick sense of amusement that he got from the control that he had over my sanity.

He lunged for me, getting within mere inches from my face. Even though he had no eyes, I still felt as though he could see right into my very light of existence. He then whispered in a tone of pure terror “Forever…” and crawled out of my room. I ran out of my house into my car and drove. I drove for six hours straight, well into the daytime. I don’t know what that creature was, but I do know that he will be forever with me, with me as a constant reminder of how fear and panic can ruin one’s life.

The Grinning Man

The Grinning Man

by Anonymous

I have a story to tell you, but I beg you not to read it. Please, don’t. I know it sounds stupid, but by the time you understand why, it will be too late. I know this will not deter many of you, but without this simple warning to ease my conscience, I may not be able to go through with this. And I desperately need to go through with this. Let me start at the beginning.

I have an old friend, Joe, who I’ve known since grade school. I’m in my late twenties – so is he – and he’s been my friend for at least half of that time. I’d say that we knew each other pretty well after all of that time. This may seem irrelevant and uninteresting, but I have to stress this; I know him, and I know him well. What he did was… it was nothing he ever could have done without some outside influence.

On the night of Friday, January 23, I was driving to his apartment to pick him and his roommate up; we made plans to go out, hit a couple of bars, and generally have a good start to the weekend. When I arrived, there were a number of police cars and ambulances outside the complex. I was, of course, curious, as I, like many people, rarely see such sights. As I got closer, I noticed a body covered in a bag in the street, surrounded by glass and no more than a few feet from a badly dented car.

I’m rather horrified, coming to the conclusion that someone was hit by a car and killed right outside the complex. As I finished gawking, I made my way inside and up the stairs to the third floor. That’s where my friend’s apartment is, and that’s where I found it wasn’t a simple accident.

The police were upstairs as well, talking to residents and taping off one of the apartments. My friend’s apartment. Panicked, I asked one of the officers what happened, why my friend’s apartment was taped off. I told him I was supposed to be meeting them for drinks, and asked if they were okay. The officer told me that it appeared that Joe had butchered his roommate with a kitchen knife and thrown himself through the plate glass sliding door into the street below.

I was a ghost, shaken so badly I could barely answer the simple questions the officer asked me upon finding that I knew the victims. My mind couldn’t process it. I knew him. He’d never do such an atrocity. It didn’t make sense.

I made my way back to my car in silence and drove home as though on autopilot. I couldn’t get the shock of it all out of my head. My wife asked me what happened and I explained it to her. She was shocked as well, but… she didn’t know him like I did. I told her I needed a bit of time and went to my room. She let me be. Lost, I found myself at my computer. I’m not really sure why I did it, but I found myself checking his email.

I know the passwords he commonly used, so it was hardly an issue to find the right one. I thought perhaps he had friends online who I needed to tell, or maybe I thought I’d find a window into what caused this. I really don’t know. If I knew then what I know now; I would’ve never done what I did.

I scrolled through his inbox, looking for familiar names. Joe, I, and several friends kept in touch online, and I instantly recognized several of those names in the last few days. The most recently opened email was what looked like a spam email with an attachment and no other information. Curiosity got the better of me and I opened it. The file itself was a picture, named nothing but a seemingly random string of numbers. It was simply a man, seemingly normal at a glance, but the longer I stared at it, the more disturbed I became.

He stood, staring, with a grin, sinister and unsettling, with eyes that were both vacant and focused at the same time. That terrible grin seemed to widen the longer I stared, and for minutes I was fixated at that horrible face, eyes burning as they stared back at me with equal intensity. Finally, I tore my gaze away to find the only other thing in the email: a single word. A word I can’t repeat. Not yet. I need to tell my story.

I couldn’t take the sight of it anymore. I had to close it. The face was still looking at me; I swear I could still feel his grinning stare. As I went to log out of his email and put that horrid thing out of my mind, I noticed the time it arrived: January 23, 5:35pm. We were supposed to meet at six. He likely saw this less than a half hour before he died.

For the next several days, I tried to get it out of my mind. I attended my friend’s funeral. I tried to go on with my life, but I kept feeling uneasy. Every time I closed my eyes, I felt like someone was watching me. At night, I started to have unsettling nightmares. I couldn’t remember much of them when I awoke, but they all had the same elements: that horrible grinning man, blood, violence, and death. I couldn’t get a good night’s sleep. I was struggling at work. I kept feeling tense and on edge. I needed to know what was going on.

It was hard to really know what to look for at first; all I had to go on was that image and the single word that accompanied it. “Grinning man” is hardly a descriptive search and “haunted grinning man” or “cursed grinning man” wasn’t really any better. Still, I did what I could with my limited resources.

I actually found a reference to it, or what I thought was it, on a website dedicated to conspiracies and paranormal things and other things I’d normally dismiss as utter bullshit. Still, this wasn’t natural, and I was willing to try to open my mind to any explanation, since this seemed to defy anything conventional. What I uncovered about this “grinning man” was that it was an image that seemed to circulate among image boards and forums a few years back. The article said the picture was harmless, if not a bit creepy (though I strongly disagree on the term “a bit”), but it seemed that something about it, when coupled with a key word that was unknown, could trigger extreme psychotic bouts, irritability, nightmares, and hallucinations.

It seemed so utterly stupid – simple text and pixels causing such harm – and yet I was sitting there, realizing that I was experiencing those same nightmares, irritability, and hallucinations. Joe obviously experienced the psychosis, evidenced by his sudden murder-suicide.

I was stunned; I thought it had to be a joke, some kind of bizarre hoax, but I knew there was more to it than that. I knew what I was feeling and I knew my friend. That picture and that word… it had to be the keyword. What triggers everything? Oh, God, was this going to happen to me, too? Was I going to kill my wife and then myself?

I started to panic, but my rational mind won over. If it was just paranoia and hallucinations… those couldn’t hurt me, right? They only had power if I gave them power. I decided that I would end this, put it out of my mind, rationalize it away each time I felt it. That would be the end of it all.

As much as my rational brain helped me through the day, it couldn’t protect me at night. My dreams continued to degrade, ending in me waking in the middle of the night, cold sweats and heart pounding. I started taking sleeping pills, though I refused to tell my wife – I didn’t want her to worry, though I knew she could tell something was wrong with me. The pills did nothing, though; in fact, they seemed to make my dreams more vivid. I could remember everything when I awoke; every horrible, bloody detail, that grinning, inhuman face. I found I started sleepwalking. The first night I woke curled in the bathtub; then in the kitchen. Three days later, with a knife in my hand and the bloodied remains of our black Lab at my feet.

I can’t even remember the next things that happened after that. I know I cleaned up our dog, hid him in a trash bag, and said he ran off in the night and got lost. I was terrified. I had no idea what to do. I tried to medicate myself heavily. I locked up all the knives in the house. My wife knew there was something terribly wrong, but I refused to say anything. I don’t even know if I could at the time.

The only thing I can still remember clearly was the dreams. I was irate and easily spooked at the littlest of things. I thought it had to just be my nerves from all of this and lack of sleep, but… I remembered my friend, the website. I knew I was getting worse.

The thing I remember most about the dreams, aside from that horrible grinning man, is the emotions. I felt each death that was inflicted in the dream like it was real. Like it was my own hand disemboweling my friends, my family, and random strangers against my own will.

Like each death, each vision of terror he showed me, was not just a vision but my own work. Each horrible death in the dream made him grin a little wider. He wanted me to snap. He wanted me to become exactly what he was showing me. He wanted me to become him.

So, I come here to tell you this because I’m desperate. I need help. You see… I can’t bear the thought of harming my wife, the woman I love most in this world. Yet, I know it’s inevitable. He’s always there, watching and grinning, knowing I’m close to breaking, and nudging me ever closer to the edge. I know what he wants. I can’t let him have that. I don’t know any other way out.

I’m reaching out to you in hopes that he’ll leave me alone. Maybe if you, the careless reader who I warned away, will give him what he wants, he’ll let me be. I have to try. I don’t know what else to do. I’m so sorry. I hope you can forgive a man for acting in desperation.

Original Story

Two Scary Stories of the Monsters of Mental Illness

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Unwanted Company

For the latter half of my childhood, I lived in a small town called Burnsley in North East England, emigrating from London for a more peaceful lifestyle. Life was good, I made friends at school, my dad started managing a local butchers and nothing really bad happened often. However, one day at school, I got confronted by three bullies from Year 8, the year above me. They tried to pick me up and shove me in a bin nearby, but a teacher stopped them. I simply dismissed it as them showing Year 7’s dominance, but then it happened more and more and started getting more frequent as the year progressed. I was getting bruises left, right and centre. One time the oldest one cut my lip with a punch to the face. This bullying carried on into the next year.

In the year later, seemingly out of nowhere, I started hearing rumours of livestock dying from local farms, particularly one where my dad’s business gets his cattle from. The corpses appeared to be mangled beyond recognition. My family dismissed it as wolves but I felt slightly weirded out by it all. A month later and a whole wheat farm and the house on the property burned to the ground. The farm was attacked again, my dad was pissed off insanely. The bullying got worse and I found myself struggling to sleep at night, my grades dropped significantly and an incident with a meat cleaver due to drowsiness left my hand gushing blood. I was losing my mind.

Then it happened. One lonely night I was studying hard after school, desperately trying to improve my grades. When I finally left the desolate school at 9 PM, I spotted the same bullies that tormented me the year before, smoking against a wall. Thinking quickly, I ducked into a nearby wheat field and made my way carefully through the rows. That was when I heard running behind me and was knocked unconscious.

When I awoke, the three bullies were standing around me, giving me a mocking look. The oldest picked me up by the collar and slammed me up into a wall. “What are you doing out here when it’s past your bedtime on your own, you stupid twat?” he jeered. I tried to resist, but he quickly equipped a knife out of his pocket. “So you don’t have to get punished by your parents when you get home, I will do it for you,” he said. I closed my eyes, and I heard a strange growl. When I opened them, the bully at the back was gone. The oldest one still held me with one hand and was turned around staring the other one in the eye with I assume a confused expression. All of a sudden, this ‘thing’ appeared out of the sky and soared down, wings open, picked the other one up and took flight again.

The oldest bully got terrified and ran off, releasing me from his grip. I quickly hid behind a stable wall and watched what was about to happen next. The ‘thing’ obviously wasn’t intent on letting him get away, and swooped down, grabbed him and took off far away into the night. As soon as it was out of sight, I ran off through the wheat fields and to my house.

The bodies were found in an abandoned slaughterhouse a year later, stripped from flesh right down to the bone. The next night, the creature came to me in my dreams. I couldn’t take it any more. I convinced my family to move.

We relocated to a small town in the South West. One fateful day, I got a letter through the postbox. What it said will haunt me forever:

“Remember what I did for you back in Burnsley?”


HATE

We are trapped within the darkest holes of our mind. We can’t wait to be free.

My name is Jason Beckett. I’m a 17 year-old senior and the only child of Julie and Ryan Beckett. My family is an “on the road” kind of family due to constant job openings given to my father. My father became a pharmacist at the local CVS. Mom just stays at home while my dad is away. Due to my family constantly moving I never really made friends nor do I plan on making any. It’s not like I ever needed any friends.

We moved to 15 Windham Avenue in an aqua blue house in Mandan, North Dakota. It’s not much like the other houses with their fancy lawns and house decorations. I could care less what anyone thinks about us. If we’re poor, rich, middle class… we all leave anyway.

When I was a child I got into a huge fight with three teenagers who, to what I thought, were trying to kill me. I don’t know why they wanted me dead, maybe it’s because they were in a gang? It was in the middle of the street and the fight was more of me protecting myself after being threatened by them and sworn at. I was shoved backwards and I began to lose my balance. I fell and landed head first onto the sidewalk pavement.

As I lay there bleeding from my skull, everything began to fade. I noticed the three teenagers rush over to me and as I did I saw someone behind them… then I blacked out. When Mom and Dad found me on the floor bleeding out I was rushed to the emergency room where I was given a full body CAT scan. I asked mom what happened to those kids who attacked me… she told me that I was too young to hear, but something “unfortunate” had happened to them.

After the CAT scan was complete, doctors noticed something peculiar and irregular happening in my brain. They said something about my “Limbic System”, the area involving my emotions. I was asked if I hate those boys who attacked me with which I calmly replied with “no, what’s hate? If it’s something bad then no, I don’t hate them for what they did to me. They concluded that I had a rare, maybe new, form of “Psychopathic Personality Disorder” that didn’t allow me to “hate” anyone or anything.

They were fairly surprised as they didn’t know what this meant or what it was causing this since it’s weird that it would target one specific emotion. They told my parents that they shouldn’t be afraid because it only targeted “hate” which could be considered a really good thing. It was just a feeling that will never be introduced to me because of this unknown problem. But I do know that because of this same benefit from my “problem”, not being able to hate others and stay cool headed, there was also a drawback.

Every night I have reoccurring dreams. It’s a dark, almost empty pitch black world that I am thrown into. It always feels like I have never been here although I always have these dreams every night. There is someone… standing in the darkness, unmoving. I could tell there is someone there in this pitch black abyss because although everything is dark… that person was always darker.

Not even the textbook definition can fully explain how this being can even be seen. As if there is no light able to reach this mysterious person but through my presence he is as visible as a sunflower in the middle of a rose field. In these “dreams” it would always just stand there in this abyss, silent and still. It’s always in my dreams… well I say dreams because nothing bad ever really happens. Regardless, it’s an ominous vision.

Pops enrolled me into Mandan High School. I’m a senior so there really isn’t much going for my senior graduation as I share no special bond with these strangers. I usually keep to myself. I got dressed in my jean pants, red plaid shirt, and beanie hat. I grabbed my bag which only had 1 drawing note book, 5 lead pencils (Since I like to draw on my spare time), 3 notebooks, and a textbook involving the human mind that I stole from my dad.

My dad has a fascination for my psychological problem but it doesn’t bother me. I waited at my bus stop and boarded the bus. I was the new kid in town so naturally everyone just stared at me for the couple seconds I got on the bus and sat down. Then they returned back to their daily activities. They were gossiping, texting, talking, and reading like most teens do. I got to school, received my schedule from my school counselor, and headed to my first period class.

Psychology class, who would have guessed I was put in there. The teacher handed out those written on and worn out textbooks but I refused when one was handed to me. I had my fathers’ text book and viewed it more advanced and efficient than the ones offered by this school. “Infinity of the Human Mind” was the name of my… well his textbook.

It gave a lot of information regarding human emotions, knowledge, brain growth, human reactions. But, as the class started I had the urge to just take out my drawing notebook and a lead pencil. I began to draw, but I didn’t know what I was drawing… I… I just drew instinctively. As I drew, I grew tired and began to yawn. I was slowly starting to fall asleep and then knocked out unconsciously on top of my drawing notebook 25 minutes into class.

I was having the dream again. I was in the same dark place with only me and “that” person standing there. I always wondered if it had a face, but every time I got closer… it got farther. As if he, she, or it didn’t want me close. But this one was different, this manifestation of utter darkness did not move when I got closer.

I slowly walked towards it and when I got to as close as skin contact… I woke up. It was 5 minutes before class ended and I was drooling on my notebook. It was closed shut and my lead pencil was no longer in my hand, but placed on top of my notebook. The lead pencil looked worn out as the eraser was completely gone and the tip seemed burnt from use.

I shook the lead pencil and I heard nothing, nothing at all. All the lead was gone. Maybe someone stole all the lead? I didn’t know or care. I could always just get more. Everyone around me was just socializing or listening to music and here I am… sleepy and confused. I wonder what I was drawing before I slept, maybe I finished it.

I grabbed my notebook and flipped through the pages to notice that all the pages I’ve been flipping through so far have been empty. I was sure that when I began to draw, it was on the very first page. I would never start anywhere but the first page of a new notebook. Once I reached the last page I dropped my notebook.

My eyes widened from a sleepy gaze to that of a frightened child. It was that person, in that empty world. But… there was a white spot in the middle of where his face would be. Almost as if his/her/or its face was beginning to emerge from the shadows. The bell rang and psychology class was over. I quickly snapped out of it and slammed the notebook shut and continued to my next class. The image still burned into my psyche and pulsating strangely as if it’s something I miss, want, need, but I can’t have.

The school day was over and I no longer felt drowsy and sleepy. I headed home and that was that, nothing else happened. I told my parents, when I arrived home, what had happened to me at school and what I saw. My mom told me that it was probably just my imagination getting the best of me, my father, on the other hand, thought differently. He had me re-explain in detail what I had seen and he took notes. Shortly after the extensive questioning he walked towards the phone and dialed a number.

I can’t clearly remember what he had been saying, “I think it might… again… limbic system… the three kids… today…”

I didn’t stick around and just headed to my room since it was already 10 P.M. by the time he finished his constant questioning. As I headed to bed I questioned if I would really have that dream again after that whole ordeal at school. I always have these dreams as if they were a daily routine, well they are, to me.

So I just decided to shut my eyes… and fall asleep. Strangely enough, I didn’t have “that” dream again like every other night. Instead, I woke up… having no dream or consciousness of what I dreamed about. It was as if I closed my eyes and then opened them to the dawn of tomorrow. To be honest, I was relieved strangely. I felt like my life was going to take a turn for the better and things would finally change.

Two months had passed since what happened in psychology class and I still don’t have any dreams that relate to that event or in general. I’ve already read my dad’s book five times and learned a lot from it. One part in particular always caught my attention, “The physiology of emotion is closely linked to arousal of the nervous system with various states and strengths of arousal relating, apparently, to particular emotions.

Although those acting primarily on emotion may seem as if they are not thinking, cognition is an important aspect of emotion, particularly the interpretation of events.” Emotions are aroused in relations to certain events… Interesting. Regardless, I waited at my bus stop as usual. The same sunny yellow bus came driving by and stopped to pick me up.

I boarded the bus and sat down, unfortunately next to Zack. Zack is the senior jock who has a tendency of over-showing his dominance on others. I was no exception, he immediately told me to screw off and sit somewhere else. But there was nowhere else to go and in no condition am I getting off.

I told him to “deal with it and stop being such a meat head.” He glared me down as if he has every motive to forcefully kick me off the bus. He shoved me off the seat… I immediately got up to plant myself back on the seat. He shoved me off again and cursed my name for the entire bus to hear. All eyes were on me, I didn’t know what to do or say.

Suddenly, something rushed into me… something… weird… evil… angry… I rushed off of the bus floor and punched Zack straight in the face, seeming as if I had broken his nose. The impact was so strong that his head whiplashed on the glass of the bus window causing a crack to emerge. Zack’s dirty blonde hair and red sports jacket plummeting onto the leather green seat. He was unconscious… I didn’t know what I had done, but I felt glad that I did it.

I turned to see everyone staring at me and then I froze. I was completely petrified and in total shock from who I saw standing amongst the crowd. This “Thing” was standing right by the bus driver before the driver got up to rush to Zack and me. It seemed like more of its face was manifesting from what has happened. The skin was pale white and only appeared on 1/4 of where its face should be. 1 Black empty hole was where its eye should be and in the center of this hole… a crimson red dot just faintly glowing.

Before I could even scream I was pushed and pinned down by the bus driver. I was never the same after what happened that day… just when I thought things would be different. I slipped out of consciousness… and into “its” world.

I’m no longer referring it as my dream world, but a dark world where “it” inhabits it and forever haunts me mentally and now in reality. It stood there again… in this abyss. Its faintly glowing eye pinned straight on me. I don’t know what it wanted but I was angry for the fact that I had no control over anything.

It was that entire things fault, all of it. Every last ounce of what caused this or what has happened to me in my life, all the bad things… its fault. As I kept rummaging through all of these events being blamed towards it… a skin-like mask began growing on its face.

A second eye emerged from that being. Both eyes are now fixated onto me and it began to slowly move towards me. It was striding from left to right as if it has no sense of direction and as it headed towards me its head twisted and shook violently every step it took. All I knew was that I didn’t want it near me.

But no matter what I did, my feet were planted firmly into the darkness. I couldn’t scream or raise my voice high enough for anyone to hear, just a small shrewd whisper calling out for help as if it was all that my body could allow. It was now in arm’s length of my face… it leaned over and directed its eyes straight at mines…and then there was a blood-curdling scream… I woke up.

I was in a hospital bed covered in snow-white sheets and thin wires strapped onto my head. My head was hurting and throbbing a lot. I was in a solitary room surrounded by 1-way glass windows. I can’t see what was happening outside, but whoever was behind those windows could see me. I felt like a hamster in its cage. Was I being observed and experimented on while I was unconscious? How long have I been unconscious? My head hurts… what have they done to me? All these thoughts made me angry… just… angry.

Two doctors and three guards entered through a nearly camouflaged glass door. I asked them who they are and what they wanted. They ignored me. Instead, those three guards pinned me down onto the hospital bed while one of the doctors came towards me with a syringe. Are they trying to sedate me? Why are they doing this to me?

I was scared… then this same strange feeling rushed into me again and in that very same rush… I saw the reflections of “it” on all of the 1 way glass windows… Standing there and mocking me. They all were mocking me and they all had those same faintly glowing crimson dot eyes. I broke free from the three men and lunged for the syringe the doctor was grasping. Before he could even react I snatched it from his hand and pierced the needle into his neck close to his jugular. He landed on the floor with a loud thud and the three guards and other doctor froze in their tracks. What are they looking at? What did I just do?

Blood began to seep out of the punctured neck wound of the collapsed doctor. Did I do that? My hands began to shake and I began to chuckle. I couldn’t have… it was “it’s” fault. I moved and faced the 1-way window to see my reflection only to be greeted by those same faintly glowing crimson eyes. I was rushed with this same strange and foreign feeling again and I quickly struck the wall with my fist. Just punching and punching in hopes of it going away. Cracks appeared but no matter what I did, its eyes were always fixated on me.

I stopped the assault on the window as I heard the opening of the glass door and a rush of footsteps quickly following. The color in my vision turned into a darker hue. The white-tiled floor my feet were planted on was now dark and grey and the same casual hospital bed and its white fabric sheets were tainted with the very same darkness.

My reality was now “its” reality and as I slowly turned my head… everyone became “It” in my eyes. The only thing that was slightly normal was me in my reflection except I began to turn into that shadow. The same white pale skin began to emerge on my face and I grew those same horrendous, ominous red eyes.

I re-faced everyone who entered the room who now took the form of the very being that had haunted me ever since I was young. I walked toward them and as I did I heard the noise of tranquilizers being fired. I slowly began to fall asleep but I kept pacing towards them till I was in arms reach of one of them. I reached out with my arm and clutched one of their shirts…

“I… hate… you.”


These two stories about both creepypasta stories
Content is available under CC-BY-SA.

Unwanted Company

Hate

 

Dead Girlfriend Sends Facebook Messages from the Grave!

They had it a great relationship for 5 years until one day she was killed in an accident. It wasn’t long before he began receiving messages from her facebook account–the one he was in charge of.

Original story and story images here.

 

8 Hour Livestream Reading for Harvey and Irma Victims Today at Noon

More details to come! The stream will either be available here or on my YouTube channel. Check back soon for the links. There is no webcam on these readings, just audio. My goal is $200 but I do hope to surpass this goal. A lot of people need help down in Texas and Louisiana–including friends and family. Florida possibly as well.

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Boo! Said the Ghost – An Anonymous Creepypasta

 

It was around 3 AM, this June.

I was on Skype with this cute girl I encountered on a forum a month ago. We were discussing about strange things that happened to me recently: Doors shutting, lamps turning on and off, even objects falling from the furniture. She was talking about a ghost or a poltergeist, who might have fun with this kind of stuff. But even though I felt paranoid, being paralyzed by the slightest noise, I couldn’t believe in these stories. Well, that’s what I’ve told myself all along. Something I knew I could regret sooner or later.

I was in the dark and I felt a little uncomfortable after our long debate on the subject, I decided it was time to refresh myself.

I got up and entered my bathroom, then washed my hands to make sure the water wasn’t too cold… I stared at my reflection for a moment. After a brief hesitation I bent over and splashed water over my face. Then I felt something unusual. Like a slight airflow. I looked behind me, the door was closed.

Did I shut the door when I entered the bathroom? I couldn’t remember. I took a towel and proceed to dry my face, unable to see a thing. While doing so, I heard a knock on a glass-like object. At first I thought it was coming from the mirror, but there was nothing except my reflection staring back at me.

I put the towel back on the towel holder and opened the door, when I saw something in the corner of my eye and heard a little noise. Like something had moved behind me.

I quickly looked back at the bathroom. At first I looked at the mirror but I then noticed the towel was on the floor, right in front of the bath. I was about to pick it up but as I approached I felt more and more uncomfortable. I could not stop staring at the shower curtain. Then I heard a second knock, the same than before. But I realized it wasn’t coming from the mirror nor the bathroom.

I turned around and headed back to my room, letting the towel on the floor. Now almost back to my bed when I felt like something was watching me. I looked through the window but there was nothing unusual.

I took my computer and asked my buddy if she has heard the knocks on the glass or if it was her.

“Yes I did hear it,” she said, “you still do not believe in poltergeist stuff?”

I admitted having doubts about what I told her earlier. She then got up and said “I’ll be right back,” and left the room. She left the door slightly open, which made me uncomfortable for a moment. But then I heard this noise again, a knock on the glass of my window. I felt too paranoid at first and did not dare to take a look. I thought it was my imagination. But it knocked a second time.

I looked up from my screen only to find something was standing still, behind my window. Staring, grinning. I almost felt like it was laughing at me. My monitor being the only light source in the room, I could hardly see its face but its smile…its smile petrified me for a moment.

After a few second I heard a door open and footsteps. I could barely catch my breath when I heard: “Hey I’m back.”

I looked back at the screen and understood it only was my buddy that got back on her computer… I told her I had to show her the thing that was staring at me, but it had faded away before I could rotate my webcam. “Did it really scare you?” she said, ”I thought you didn’t believe in those things? Haha.”

Her reaction made me curious. Why was she so excited about this?

I was so lost in my reflection that I thought I imagined what she said next: “Boo said the ghost… and he disappeared.” Before I could even react, the screen went black for a moment. It soon got back to normal but something different was on the screen.

It wasn’t the excited girl’s face anymore. I saw a man sitting on his bed, facing the computer. In fact, the scene was very familiar, until I recognized it. It was my bedroom. On the verge of panic, I was still able to notice something odd. The angle from which was taken the image of my bedroom. It was as if… something was right outside of my window, filming that exact moment. I looked through the window for a second before turning around to face my screen again. The delay let me see myself stare back at me through the webcam.

The screen went back to the girl I’ve been talking to for the past month. Except this time, she was in near pitch black. She got closer to the camera and didn’t do much for a few seconds. Still frightened from what had just happened, I didn’t move, waiting for her to say something, but she remained silent. I didn’t understand what was happening. I didn’t understand, until she started grinning.

Halloween Clown Vore

Clowns. I’m afraid of the word. I never want to hear the word. On Halloween I don’t even come out of the house in fear of seeing Him–the Clown. Or any clown.

I will start by telling you that I used to love the circus growing up. I went to every circus and parade when I was a kid. You could always find me celebrating and laughing with my friends. We couldn’t help but notice there was one clown that would always be at every parade. He would do tricks like walking on stilts or juggling. We knew it was always the same clown because he had these evil deep blood red eyes and weird teeth. He wasn’t like the others and he was always there on Halloween. They were goofy and old. He was always young—maybe in his 20s. I don’t know. He could do anything and do it better than all of the rest and he always smiled at us, picking us out in the crowd.

As I grew older, I stopped going to the circus because I started to love football and sports then I went college, got a job…you know the rest. I just grew out of it. Then one Halloween day my company took us all to the circus for a company team building event. I hadn’t been to the circus in ages and had forgotten all about that evil clown. He was the last thing on my mind when I walked into the big tent.

But there he was. The clown show was first. All of the clowns doing their silly acts for the patrons, while they ignored him. They always ignored him. He was juggling knives of all things. Big, machetes. As one clown walked by him, one of the machetes came down on the clown’s arm and sliced it off. He screamed as it dropped to the ground and grabbed the shoulder socket from where it was torn. Blood spewed between his fingertips. The clown ran, screaming from the tent as his arm twitched on the ground. No one else flinched. No one noticed. Was it an illusion?

As I stood and stared, the evil clown looked up in my direction and winked at me. He read my screaming mind. It was impossible! His smile turned into a razor sharp grin with teeth as jagged as hunting knives–just like when I was young. No one else noticed, they all laughed the clowns and how they tripped and entertained. No one saw the evil one staring at ME. A bit queasy, I sat down and pondered on this thought: HOW??? How in the hell was this guy still young? He was already 20 years my senior when I was 10. It had to be the make up, but there he was doing the same flips and jumps that he did years ago and still picking me out in the crowd with those evil eyes.

My stomach churned like I was going to hurl. On weak legs I stood and made my way through the laughing crowd, hoping to make it to the exit before I passed out. As the fresh air filled my lungs when I exited, I felt a little better–at least enough to get curious. I looked around and saw him. Only him, making his way to a smaller tent. Sadly, curiosity got the best of me and I followed. When he reached his tent he opened the flap and turned to look at me. With one hand he motioned for me to come inside.

I could have said anything but yes, but I didn’t. My mind raced with fear and anticipation as I stepped into the tent. It looked way bigger inside than it did outside. There were rooms and strange moaning noises coming from the rooms. It had to be an illusion of some sort.

“Come, sit. Would you like some tea?” he pulled a chair out from the table. The center piece was a small pumpkin carved in a clown’s face and glowing with a hypnotizing fire. An almost black fire.

Reluctantly, I nodded. I assumed the caffeine would clear my head a little so I didn’t say no. He came back a few minutes later with some mint flavored tea and told his story.

“I am old. Older than you know. Everything here is an illusion and no one but you and your friends can see me. You created me out of your feeble little mind.”

“How can I be sitting here, drinking this tea, if I created you?”

“Only you can answer that.” he laughed.

“Then where am I right now?” I started to grow really tired and my eyelids began to shut. I tried to focus on the glowing light of the tiny jack-o-lantern before me, but it just made the fatigue worse.

“You’re right here with me.” he smirked and continued. “No one can see you, you’re like a figment of their imagination right now.”

I felt my chin drop to my chest then as I came to, everything was bigger. The smell of mint tea flooded my senses as I realized I was in the tea cup I was drinking. Heavy footsteps padded the ground and the chair I was in squeaked beside me. That hideous, razor sharp grin now blocked my view of the tapered tent’s top.

I think I screamed, I’m not sure. He raised the cup to his lips and as the liquid started to pour into his mouth, I went with it. My fingers slipped as I tried to grab onto the side of the cup. My ass hit his pursed lips and I tried to grab those too, but they were too supple. I tried to grab at his teeth, but only screamed as one of my fingers bounced across my view when his jagged tooth cut into it and sliced it off. I wrapped my arms around the tip of his tongue, watching the liquid fall down the dark tube of death as he swallowed the tea.

“Hmmm…” the sound of his voice was loud inside his mouth. He shook his tongue back and forth until I lose my grasp on the slimy muscle and fell onto the soft pads of his saliva glands. There was so much spit in his mouth, and even more as my limbs flailed and activated them. The tip of his tongue pushed underneath me and prodded me to the top of his thick muscle. The bastard was toying with me–pushing me up against the roof of his mouth and making me bounce up and down on his tongue like a trampoline.

“Please let me go!” I screamed. “I’ll do anything! What do you want?”

His laugh echoed in my ears as he began to tilt his head backward and swallow. I made one last attempt to grab at his disgusting uvula and wrapped my body around it. He didn’t gag or choke like I expected, he just shook his head violently until I slid down the slippery organ and into his throat. I could feel the muscles of his esophagus working around me, pushing me down in to the pit of hell where I knew I would be mashed by stomach muscles while being eaten away by acid.

I cried as my body bounced down into the humid, smelly pit of his gut. It was dark and hot. I stood and the little bit of tea he swallowed swarmed around my ankles. I pounded on his stomach walls screaming to let me out as a large, smelly gas bubble swept by me and exited through the top. I heard him burp and then felt warmth squirting out at my clothes as they seemed to melt off of my body then it stopped. It was silent. My skin was burned with stomach acid where the clothes didn’t protect me. The heat of the pit made me sleepy despite the pain in my skin. I sunk down in defeat into the hot tea and acid mix, feeling my skin begin to burn and drift away.

I suddenly awoke in my bed, sweating and screaming with my cell phone blaring in my ear. My maniacal laugh was probably heard throughout my apartment building. “It was all a dream.”

I grabbed the phone and stared at the unknown number. Before answering I looked down at my legs. There were red burn marks in my skin on my ankles and I was wearing pajamas I didn’t recognize. To my horror, my index finger was cut up and wrapped in bandages.

I slowly pressed the button to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Hello, Steven!” The clown’s cheery voice danced in my head. “Let’s do it again next Halloween.”

**
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